#we'll call it love

[superblysubpar]

I Think I Only Want You, Under My Mistletoe:

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

3.6k words

summary: Meeting The Harrington's, an office Christmas party, seeing Steve's big, hard d- Desk. Get your mind out of the gutter. // The prompts: [mistletoe] - a playful or romantic kiss under a mistletoe // [BEND OVER] - one muse bends the other over a table/couch/etc. 

warnings: THIS HAS BIG SPOILERS FOR MY SERIES WE’LL CALL IT LOVE ( #a we’ll call it love blurb // we’ll call it love masterlist) - this blurb takes place only a few short weeks after the end of chapter 5: Getting Older, and before the Epilogue. | slight description of reader worrying about her appearance/comparison and anxiety about what people think of it | slight angst with Harrington parent disapproval and judgement | alcohol consumption | SMUT: semi-public (steve's office) teasing, calling Steve Mr. Harrington and sir, illusions to unprotected PIV intercourse

day 1 of 12 days of superbly subpar writing // requested by @palmtreesx3 - thank you for requesting and continuing to encourage WCIL nonsense. Hope you love it babe! 💛

Steve: You found a dress right? You: Nah, I was thinking I’d just show up in my period sweats and that sweatshirt with the stain on it.  Steve: Honey, seriously, I need confirmation.  You: 🙄 You: yes steve. I got a dress. Relax. 

You tossed more popcorn in your mouth, trying to squash the nerves he wasn’t making any better by harassing you for the last week about the dress. 

Like it wasn’t enough to have a boyfriend after swearing off love. The boyfriend you now had after confessing all dramatic and movie-like that you were falling for the guy despite thinking he was engaged. The engagement he called off because of you, much to his parents' fury. The parents you were going to meet at this party. The party at the office he had just put his notice in to quit, again because of you. 

What was there to be nervous about?

The phone next to you lit up and Robin glanced at it, and you caught the name ‘Dingus’ as she  cleared her throat and locked it. Her voice strained to sound nonchalant. 

“Can I see what you’re wearing to the party tomorrow?”

An annoyed huff and strangled cry left your mouth. “That’s it! I’m not going! I’m not!”

You stomped to the kitchen and poured more of the white wine they brought as Nancy failed to cover her smile, coughing over her laugh. 

Robin sat up on her knees, green clay mask beginning to harden on her face, so only her bright blue eyes could convey her feelings. “Just let us see it so we can tell him he has nothing to worry about and he can relax.”

Your head shook, laughing despite being unamused. “Does he think I don’t know how to dress myself? Does he think I’m gonna actually show up in something disgusting? Does he think-”

“You haven’t met the Harrington's.” Robin interrupts, her voice far more serious than you cared for. 

Stomping off to the bathroom, you scrubbed the mask off your face, splashing cold water against your cheeks and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach. She’s right. You hadn’t met the Harrington's. You’d heard all about them, and you weren’t sure you’d like to meet them under normal circumstances, let alone these complicated, messy ones. 

“Are you-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” You interrupted Robin’s call down the hallway, closing the door to your room and stared at the wine colored fabric with your arms crossed. 

Slipping it on with resentment and nausea fluttering throughout your body, you ran your hands over the velvet material, tilting your head to the side in the mirror as you exhaled. Turning on your heel before you could find all the ways you hated the dress you once were confident about, you stepped out of the room. Nancy and Robin’s mouths dropped in tandem when you stepped into the light of the living room. 

“What?” You squeaked, hands crossing and curling around your waist. “It’s bad? Is the slit okay? I thought…”

Robin started typing on her phone furiously and Nancy held up her hand as you trailed off, “You are so good. Furthest thing from bad. Don’t worry.”

Your shoulders released their tension, but the crease over your brows deepened as Robin smirked down at her phone. “What are you telling him?”

She hummed, “Don’t worry about it. Relax.”

Relax.

Easy for her to say. 

You: steven. You did NOT send a limo.  Steve: 🤷🏻‍♂️ You: you think you’re so cute, huh? Steve: I think *you* think I’m cute.

He clicked at his desktop more, glasses falling down the slope of his nose as he tried to finish work. He felt awful that not only were you nervous, but he was already here, you had to arrive alone, and he still hadn’t seen your dress. His phone vibrated and he looked down to see a picture of you, in the back of the limo, holding up an entire bottle of champagne just for you, and much to his dismay, a coat covering your dress.

You: you know what won’t be cute? When I down this entire bottle of champagne and puke from nerves all over your parents six thousand dollar shoes harrington Steve: they’ll buy new ones You: 🙄

He continued to work on his computer, people calling into his office and asking if he was coming downstairs to which he nodded and said soon to, until the lights started to turn off and it was just him. Hand running through his hair as he flipped back to his conversation with Robin last night.

Robin: DUDE Robin: You’re gonna go into cardiac arrest when you see her Steve: you’re not helping Robin: your mom will love her, you know she will Robin: Well, eventually. I did. Sort of. Steve: Again, NOT helping Robin: honestly your dad is gonna try to sleep with her Steve: you’re sick, you know that? Robin: The way she looks in this dress is sick steve Robin: ILLEGAL Robin: wow. You have wonderful taste in women Steve: YOU HAVE TO STOP 

Despite already having been to Steve’s office, the sight of it tonight still has your jaw going slack. When the limo stops and the door opens for you, the vast and towering skyscraper shimmering with snow swirling around it seems more intimidating than ever. As you push into the warm lobby, the two story Christmas tree steals your breath further. Decorated in golds, silvers, and crimson, two staircases curling on either side of it. 

You make your way up slowly, admiring the decor, hand gliding over the banister and reeling from the noise coming out of the transformed large ballroom. The space was used for a variety of events for the company, anywhere from big convention type conferences, parties, presentations and more. Steve had told you they’d put in a bar, a dance floor and stage, claiming this year’s Christmas party to be the biggest yet. 

Lucky you.

The room overflows out into the hallway with loud chatter, a jazz band playing familiar holiday songs. Boisterous laughter exploding each time the doors open and close, no doubt louder and more easily flowing from the contents inside the glasses you can hear clinking together and the pops of corks. 

You know you’re supposed to text Steve that you’re here, he said he’d come out and walk in with you, that he had been pulled in by his soon to be former boss. The thought of just going in by yourself is somehow easier though. Perhaps no one will even spare you a glance, not when you don’t have him next to you.

The room is even louder once you’re inside. The air smells like leather and cigars, champagne and scotch, stiff and overpowering floral perfume. It drips in luxury - mahogany tables, three Christmas trees, silver and gold candlesticks over burgundy table runners. 

Your feet carry you inside cautiously, and you spot the bar on the other side of the room and head towards it, ignoring the heat of strangers' stares. Feeling like every woman around you is eyeing you from head to toe, their judgment pushing up their chins and noses, rolling their eyes. Their dresses far more expensive and their makeup and hair done professionally. This was worse than the first time you went to Steve’s apartment. 

This was a big, big, massive mistake. 

When you make it to the bar, you order champagne that you can see already being prepped, hoping it’s comped or on the lower end, mentally preparing yourself for Steve insisting he’ll pay for it despite the zeros. The sharp bubbles slip over your tongue as you try to sip it slowly, eyes roaming over the crowd in search of Steve. 

“You look lost,” a deep voice comes from beside you. 

Turning, you find a man in a three piece navy suit that costs more than your rent. His hand holds a glass with three fingers of amber liquid over ice, a silver watch on his wrist that glints. His other is deep in his pocket, his posture nonchalant and lazy yet oozing with the confidence of a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. His jawline is familiar, clean and sharp, leading to soft brown eyes that roam over your face. He has two freckles next to his ear, and dark brown hair that’s just starting to gray. 

Your swallow is louder than the saxophone solo coming from the far end of the room as he removes his hand from his pocket, extends it to you, and says, “John.”

Fuck. 

“Mr. Harrington, it’s so nice to meet you,” your voice is calm, hand shaking his firmly while the inside of you screams, alarms inside your brain going off, shouting abort, abort, abort!

His lips twitch in a far too familiar way and he cocks his head, “Now, how do you know me and I don’t know you?”

You’re certain that everyone in this room knows who John Harrington is, and he knows it too. You squash the nerves inside of you, taking a deep breath. 

“Well, uh, Mr. Harrington-”

“Please, call me John.” He smiles, encouraging, and you nod, plastering on a bigger smile. 

“Right, Jo-John. I’m-”

“Honey, you don’t recognize her?” A softer, sweeter voice comes up behind him and her warm smile makes a little bit of your nerves disappear. That is until she says your name, and then:

“This is Steve’s friend.”

Friend. Friend. Friend. 

“Oh!” He snaps. “I forgot he decided to bring someone after all.”

Your lungs deflate, your stomach churns, you hear the way your heart cracks, chest aching from the pressure. 

Steve’s mom sticks out her hand, “Vivian.”

Introducing yourself far less confident, voice barely a murmur, cracking as you push out, “It’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“So,” John has a cigar in his mouth now, patting at his pockets for a lighter, frowning when Vivian takes it from between his lips, but he continues, “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you take a larger gulp of champagne before finishing, “I’m an assistant right now. But I hope to-”

“I’m sorry, what?” John interrupts you, his brows furrowed. Mrs. Harrington’s hand squeezes his bicep sharply, a smile plastered on her face. But he keeps going, “An assistant? How old are you? Your parents can’t be thrilled with-”

“Dad.” His voice is ice, a protective hand on the small of your back, appearing out of nowhere.  

You’ve heard Steve’s end of phone conversations with his dad, you’ve seen the way the people in this room acted just passing by him in the last few minutes, so you are shocked beyond belief when John Harrington closes his mouth at Steve’s singular warning. 

Vivian’s smile relaxes, her voice warm and syrupy, “Hi honey.” She hugs him and he only returns the gesture with one arm, the other keeping a firm grip on your waist as she pulls away and smiles, “We were just getting to know your friend-”

“Girlfriend,” he corrects quickly, strong, and nods at the bartender. You watch as the man behind the wood bar grabs a bottle from the very top shelf, pours two fingers, neat unlike his father, and Steve grabs the drink he didn’t have to order. Despite the last few moments, the tone and action has your thighs pushing together and you clear your throat as Steve’s thumb swipes over your spine. 

Vivian smiles, quietly correcting, “Right, girlfriend. She was just telling us what she does, right sweetheart?” Vivian pinches John’s arm again and he straightens, forcing a closed-lip smile. “So, an assistant, that’s…exciting?”

“I think we’re gonna go dance actually, we’ll talk to you later.” Steve’s voice leaves no room for argument. 

He starts to pull you away and you call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you.”

Steve pulls you through the crowd, his shoulders tense and the scotch tipped to his lips in one sip. He sets the empty glass on a passing tray, grabbing your champagne flute from your fingers as well. He stops in the shadow of one of the trees, his hands finding both of yours as he turns. 

“Honey, I think we have a real problem.”

Your heart and stomach drop even more, voice frail and small as you ask, “We do?”

He nods, face solemn, though his lips seem to be fighting a smile as sighs, “I’m afraid I can’t let you out of my sight all night in a dress like this.”

Relaxation floods over your veins, soothing your nerves as it feels like you finally exhale a breath you’ve been holding since last night. Still a little frazzled from the interaction, but a smile twitches your lips up slightly, forcing a light tone. 

“It’s okay? Up to the Harrington standards despite the girl inside it failing miserably?”

Steve hums, leaning in close, spice and stinging scotch on his breath as his nose traces yours. “I think the dress and the girl surpass all Harrington standards. They rearrange the meaning of the word babe.”

Your eyes roll, but your shoulders hunch again, hands smoothing over the lapels of his tux. “That’s a nice sentiment Mr. Harrington, but I think your parents would disagree on the matter.”

Steve’s eyes flash at the use of Mr. Harrington and your eyebrows raise, curious if it’s the authority of the name or the potential of you being a missus, but he’s too quick for you to investigate, bold and something in his eyes hungry. “Fuck my parents and their obnoxious standards. Every other person in this room wants to be you or be inside of you.”

“Steve.” Your head ducks at the forward compliment, “God, how much of that scotch have you had already?” 

“First glass.” His lips part, tongue licking over his top lip as he smirks, “I think you liked it though.”

“The comment or the way you ordered the drink?”

Steve, breathes into your lips as you tilt easily for him, mouth parting as he says, “Both.”

His hands press to your spine, a barely there kiss, when his name is called. He sighs, spinning to shake someone’s hand. The rest of the evening is spent with men clapping on his back and saying they’ll miss him. He holds your hand as he introduces you to co-workers he seems to genuinely like, flagging down servers and getting you glasses of champagne before they’re empty. Shushing you and kissing your temple when you ask how much it is. Maybe it’s the bubbles in your system, the pink flush to Steve’s cheeks when he stares at you, your name on his lips when he introduces you as his girlfriend, but the interaction with John and Vivian is long forgotten. 

All you can think about now, is how tonight has shown you a side of Steve you hadn’t seen before, and he looks good. He holds his drink that keeps being refilled without being ordered, slipping bills in waiters hands almost imperceptibly, their quiet ‘thank you Mr. Harrington.’ even more so if you weren’t listening. His suit is tailored to his body nicely, pieces of his hair falling over his forehead when he laughs in a charming and confident way. Steve is also handsy, and has been since he pulled you away from his parents. Squeezing your hip, running up your spine in the keyhole along it, pads of his fingers following the straps that hang off your shoulders back and forth, back and forth. Each touch of his skin to yours sparking like frayed wires. 

You excuse yourself quietly in the middle of a conversation about trading and something or other you can’t be bothered to listen to and Steve grabs your wrist, cocking his head in a silent question. You call out a little too loudly, maybe a little too flirty, “I’ll be right back, Mr. Harrington.”

The men around him smirk into their glasses and Steve watches you walk away, the color long gone from his eyes as his pupils take over. You feel the presence of his stare on your back as you make your way to the bar, only turning around when you have another glass in your hand. 

Steve’s still across the room, and you watch the path his eyes take over your body, heat rising to the surface of your skin in their trail like he’s physically touching you. He tracks you as you make your way to the exit, starting on your ankle, up your calf, then thigh. You’re almost able to feel his fingers sliding over the velvet, tracing the slit that exposes the skin. The cinch of merlot fabric on your hips and the way his hands would pause there and squeeze. You take another sip as they travel over the curve of your sweetheart neckline that shows off maybe a little too much. Tracing the path his lips could take over the straps, up your collarbones and neck, and they finally meet your eyes. 

His jaw is tight, tongue wetting his lips and gulping. His eyes narrow as you smile and you glance up at the familiar green holiday leaves hanging above the door, dropping your head and forming a fake pout. 

It takes Steve less than thirty seconds to cross the room, the now empty glass on a tray as he passes yet again, freeing his hands to grab onto your waist as he leans in. You let your bottom lip slip between the two of his, teasing and innocent. 

Steve groans as you bump the door open with your hip, letting your fingers linger on his chest, sighing, eyes wide, “Oh, I bet the view of the city is so beautiful on the 65th floor. You have a big, fancy office don’t you? Do you think I could see it, sir?”

He’s a man possessed. His mouth and hands haven’t stopped moving since the elevator closed. Clumsy lips and your name leaving him breathlessly as he pushed you into the railing as the floors climbed higher and higher. 

“Look too good, illegal, she was right,” he mouthed at your neck, slipping lower into your cleavage enough to make you laugh. 

“Wh-who was right?” 

He growled something that sounded like Robin’s name which made you laugh harder, stopping only when his mouth found yours. 

Steve shushed your giggles, leading you down the dark floor to the office at the corner, pulling the door closed and clicking the lock. 

A brown leather couch, gold lamps, a bookshelf and a cart full of bottles of fancy liquors and sparkling glasses. A giant, wood desk with a tall leather chair. A name plate that glinted and said Steve Harrington with a pair of wire rimmed glasses. 

You’d seen it before, but not on a night like tonight. Not with all the lights off, snow falling lazily across the skyline. Not with champagne in your system, not with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who had confidence and charm, who commanded respect and attention. Who stood up to his parents for you, for what he wanted.

Steve stood behind you, hands on your hips again as he led you towards the desk. Sucking a bruise under your ear, tongue soothing the way his teeth scraped down your neck. He was wrecked, gone, could cum in his slacks right then and there with the view of you in his office in this dress. Would he miss being in charge at a place like this? Sure. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he was a boss. 

His voice was strong, cinnamon and scotch on his breath as he commanded, “Bend over, baby.”

You laughed, arching over his desk slowly. Looking over your shoulder as you spread your legs and pouted, “Kind of bossy, Steve, not gonna even say please?”

Steve watched under heavy lids as you kept your gaze on his fingers moving over his buckle, the way your chest moved up and down quicker as he freed himself. He knelt behind you, pushing up the fabric of your dress. Kissing up your calves, your thighs, nipping at the curve of your ass and smirking when you yelped. 

He stood, hands landing on the desk on either side of yours, mouth a ghost over your ear, heaving chest pressed along your spine, and his hard erection pressing into your ass. 

“You think you’re cute, huh?”

A shiver ran through you at his tone, the way his breath hit your cheek and fingers overtook yours on the desk. 

You gasped out, parroting your conversation earlier, “I think you think I’m cute, Harrington.”

Steve’s nose skimmed the curve of your ear, tutting, “No more mister already? Where’d your manners go baby?”

He slid his tip against your clit, circles to it until your head fell forward in a gasp, slick coating his cock with barely anything to prompt it. 

Steve finally moved lower, his lips on your neck and his tip nudging at your entrance but pausing as he laughed, smirk pressed to your skin. “You are cute, though, honey. Prettiest,” he kissed your shoulder, “Sexiest,” a kiss below your ear, “Cutest thing here tonight.”

He kept his tip pressed to your entrance, waiting until your hips squirmed, till your fingers twitched below his. Breath warm on your jaw as he kept his voice even, confident, pulling himself back up to your clit and starting all over again as he spoke. 

“Know what’s even cuter though?”

You whimpered, head empty, nerves buzzing, and stomach burning as his lips brushed against your jaw with each word, head circling your clit and tapping again. 

“You’re about to be begging for me.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bros before Ho(oh my god is that Hanguang-Jun?)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[somegrumpynerd]

When you find out years later that you accidentally named one of your henchmen

Image ID: A multi-panel comic featuring au sanses. Panel 1: In Killer's original universe. A dark figure stands in the foreground while Killer is sitting back in the snow, covered in blood. Killer says "wh-what are you?" Panel 2: The dark figure is Nightmare but only his smile is visible. He says "I am Nightmare, guardian of all negativity in the multiverse ...and I have a proposition for you, Sans." Panel 3: Nightmare's hand is outstreched, he says "Come with me willingly and I'll take you out of this desolate and barren universe and let you loose on many others." Panel 4: Killer is looking back at Nightmare warily, a thought bubble shows he is thinking "other universes...?". He says "...in exchange for what? What do you want with me?" Panel 5: Nightmare's tentacles are reaching out towards Killer. He says "I feed off the fear and misery and hatred in this world, stirring these up will keep me powerful enough to fight against the guardian of positivity. In short," Panel 6: Nightmare is looming over Killer now, his tentacles surrounding him. He says "I just need you to be a good little killer." The word killer is in red text. Panel 7: Killer is grasping Nightmare's hand, having accepted his offer. Panel 8: Now in a different au, Nightmare stands beside Killer as he taunts Dream, who is out of frame. He says "You're outnumbered now Dream, I have a killer with me this time." The word killer is in red text again. Panel 9: Dream is lying on the ground looking hurt and ruffed up. Killer is standing in the background, looking ready to continue beating Dream up. Nightmare says from out of frame "You should know better than to turn your back on a killer by now." The word killer is in red text again. Panel 10: Nightmare is standing by Killer again, looking smug. He says to Dream, who is not shown "You'll need more than that pathetic bow next time you meet with my killer here." The word killer is in red text again. Killer is looking towards Nightmare, pleased with this. Panel 11: We are now in Nightmare's castle, present day. It is revealed to be Killer telling these events to Dust, who looks bored. Killer says "-and the name stuck, so that's why I'm called Killer now." Dust says very quietly "did I ask" Panel 12: Nightmare is standing in the corner behind them, he looks very surprised and concerned after hearing all this. Text with an arrow pointing to him reads "Didn't realise he had done this." Killer from out of frame says "he doesn't really call me his killer anymore tho" with a frowny face. Dust, also out of frame, says "that's nice now shut up" End ID.

[hamartia-grander]

This definitely won't happen but it would be so fucking funny if they arrive at the planet Thrawn and Ezra were stranded on and it turns out that these two are best friends now and Thrawn is completely on Ezra's side. Morgan Elsbeth pleads for Thrawn to return and reignite the Empire and he's just like "those bitches? Fuck em. Ezzie and I started a band, we play Jizz music on Wednesdays. Here's my wallet pictures of us hanging out."

[reineydraws]

wanted: marine hunter takanome mihawk

[crocchompers]

A little finished drawing for @dumblittlejay's new Toyland AU!

[kaybzzart]

Oh We are SOOO BACK

[54625]

I know we're all quite disappointed, now, about all of the things QSMP had going that will likely never happen. So I'm curious; what things can you think of, big or small, did we never get to see? A big arc planned, character growth that never occurred, a build never started or finished, a plot point that went nowhere, a question that was never answered, people who never reunited or met, even just a person reacting to/ seeing something.

Feel free to list as many as you can think of, or rant to your heart's content. We could all do with getting some of that grief of missed potential of our chests.

[heademptie]

More Comms!Reader Ghoap thoughts

You are so right.

Okay a bit of retcon.

Soap gets hit on, yada yada, reader is confused, yada yada, eventually they make the open relationship comment.

Ghost, initally caught off guard, doesnt say anything and just glares at reader. And he continues to glare in silence, so reader in their confusion and nervousness starts to ramble an explaination and Ghost just cuts them off.

"Shut up, not another fucking word."

Its not a yell, the order is clear and reader does as they're told, it sounds almost like a threat. Then there's just a tense silence at the table and reader purposefully avoids looking at Ghost. Maybe they even shuffle away from him a bit. Then Soap leaves and reader can't help but look over to Ghost once hes out the door. Except Ghost looks utterly furious, they think his jaw looks tight under the balaclava. Ever the people pleaser, reader tries to apologise to him.

"Listen, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to-"

But violating an order from Ghost isn't the smartest thing to do. Next thing they know, reader is outside, practically being dragged by the scruff of their neck by Ghost back to base. Reader knows, hopes anyways, that Ghost wouldn't actually kill them, but right now they don't like their chances.

They don't make it back to base. He must be too angry, because he pulls reader infront of him and speaks lowly. The way reader has heard in the recordings, the way Ghost speaks during an interrogation, the way he speaks when his team is threatened. And they realise just how scared those who incur his wrath get.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut." "I really didn't-" "You think you're clever?" "I just thought-" "Thought what?"

Reader shuts up then, realises that silence is best here. Ghost continues into them, lashing and snarling and picking out things to say that will hurt. Hes angry, obviously, but as he carries on, reader realsies that its because they hit a nerve. Oh. Oh.

Ghost and Soap weren't together. But Ghost wanted to be.

So they take his wrath, his cutting words and vague threats all with a blank expression. Then Ghost calms down, or atleast he lets go of reader and takes a breather. As reader stands there and rubs the back of their neck, easing the redding skin from his tight grip, they just stare at him.

"What are you staring at?"

Reader has the mind to look around the area, glancing around Ghost to ensure they were alone. Once they're satisfied with the sweep, much to Ghosts exasperation, they lean in slightly and lower their voice.

"You really care about him."

Ghost is ready to kill reader right then, he opens his mouth, but reader beats him to it.

"And just so you know, he cares about you."

Reader walks away then, moving a bit quicker then normal while Ghost stands stock still. Still glaring at them, muscles still coiled to attack, but he lets them go.

Ghost decides that there is more to reader then he originally thought. And that he'll figure it out, to keep his team safe of course. Keep Johnny safe, not that he'd say that. And no other reason, none what so ever.

[takkamek]

one thing that seems to prevalent in almost any lestappen fanfic is that ferrari doesn't care about charles, and that fred especially is made to be this villain, and its just... maybe people just don't know because they weren't around in 2022, or maybe they just forgot, but things were bad in ferrari in 2022 to the point where charles threatened to leave because of the bad management--and ferrari scrambled to keep him. they fired binotto (the tp) and a bunch of the staff (like head strategist) because of charles, they got fred because he and charles were on good terms, the team is literally being build around charles.

i don't immediately dislike the fanfic if ferrari is the antagonist of the story (but some reason rbr isn't lmao), i just think it's strange that ferrari is always the big bad guy

[aalghul]

first mention from a bat character of sheila betraying jason ever??? would love to get some more

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

4.2k words | This is an 18+ NSFW series

epilogue warnings: see that fun little e word? yeah you're missing a whole bunch, and I strongly encourage you to head to the masterlist linked above and read their story! I had fun writing it (most days), I hope you have fun reading it | there's a hint to a lovely little thing @rebelfell wrote for Eddie on Halloween Party night and I am not only incredibly touched that something I wrote inspired her to write, but I am grateful for the blessing to leave his story open for more exploration using her story 💛 | mentions of the holiday Christmas being celebrated by reader | minor descriptions of PIV smut, but ultimately it's some good old fade to black movie shit

Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world. 

“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips. 

Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath. 

“You liked it.” 

And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower. 

The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love. 

Eddie’s nose presses into your navel, fingers adjusting on your hips as you squirm. 

“Eddie!”

“Hold still!” He laughs, your green plastic shamrock hanging from your neck knocks against his forehead as his arms move to wrap around the back of your thighs. 

“We’re on the other side!” Robin screams into her phone. A boy with a jug full of nauseating lime colored liquid brushes up against her, smiling with green tinged lips. She wrinkles her nose as he hiccups, liquor and kool-aid sloshing from the jug out onto the sidewalk and narrowly missing her shoes. 

“I can see-Fuck!” You shout, arm raising to wave but body hunching, falling over Eddie’s head as he adjusts and almost drops you. 

Fingers grip his curls at the sudden balance issues, eliciting a quiet “Ow,” from him and a soft “Sorry,” from you. 

Robin huffs into the phone, craning her neck and hand hovering behind your back like she alone could prevent Eddie dropping you over the railing and into the river. “I’m wearing green - well light green!”

Eddie snorts a laugh into your hip as he pushes you higher, your fingers wrap around the cement and you pull yourself up, waving your arms wildly to bring attention to your group as Eddie holds your lower half up, bracing his back against the railing.  

Just on the other side of the bridge, you see him clinging to a light pole, body slowly circling it, head swiveling in all directions with the phone pressed to his ear. His hair has gotten darker from the lack of sun, longer too, and it curls slightly behind his ears and at the nape of his neck, blowing in the light breeze. 

When he makes his final turn, he sees you as your arms drop. His grin widens, bright even from this far. You watch his mouth move as he speaks into the phone without taking his eyes off of you. 

Robin calls up, rolling her eyes, “He says you’re really pretty.”

Your head throws back in a deep laugh, the movement causing Eddie to panic and adjust his hands holding your legs and you both topple to the ground, taking Robin with you as your leg bangs against the cement railing at just the right angle, hard.

The people of Chicago simply walk around the three of you, as you lay on the cold and dirty sidewalk moaning. 

“Your foot is in my spleen Edward, get off,” Robin whines, shoving at his shoulders.

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m not the one who decided to fall!” He rolls, but freezes as you wince.

You sit up, rubbing at your knee, closing your eyes with a choked off whimper, willing the tears that want to spring out from the sharp pain away. 

“Shit, uh, ice? I can go see if someone has ice?” Robin asks, eyes wide and blinking down at you when you open yours.

Eddie’s nose scrunches, head tilting as he asks, “Why would anyone have ice just walking around?”

“I don’t know, it’s St. Patrick’s Day, people need it for their drinks! Oh! I can call Nancy, she’s still sleeping, but-”

“Robin,” you laugh, cutting her off, “I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”

As you press your palms to the cement and brace yourself to stand, you wince again and his voice is suddenly right in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop.” 

Looking up, Steve is crouching down, hands reaching toward your leg. Light jeans and a deep, hunter green sweatshirt revealed to you under his now open gray peacoat. Dark strands of hair fall over his forehead, slightly covering the lines of worry deepening as he frowns at your knee. Something inside your chest swells, like thousands of butterflies are waking up and migrating to your stomach and causing dumb and unfiltered words to fall out of your mouth. 

“Do you have a band-aid? I think I scraped my knee falling for you.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, eyes bright, the sweater making the moss in them outshine the brown as he looks at you with amusement. Robin and Eddie boo in tandem behind your shoulders.

Steve’s hand curls around your ankle, gold ring on his middle finger glinting as his thumb brushes the skin under your pant leg as he shakes his head, “Honey, I’m gone for two days and look at you. How am I gonna be able to leave for three months?”

“They said yes?!” Forgetting your pain, you lean forward, hands grabbing his cheeks as he nods, bottom lip fitting between yours as he kisses you with a sigh. 

Steve's hand curls around your neck, thumb sliding down along your jaw as he kisses you like you are very much not in public, your stomach swooping as his tongue traces the curve of your top lip. 

“You're both sick,” Eddie gags.

“May I remind you,” Robin starts as Steve and you part, breathless, his eyes rolling and mouth fighting a smile as she keeps going, “That the sidewalk is probably covered in piss and puke and who knows what else and we are not that far from the spot where Dave Matthews literally dumped shi-”

“We know!” The three of you call out in tandem, interrupting the story you all could recite with the same inflections and punchlines she does. 

“Steve, I'm so happy for you. Those kids are gonna have the best time,” speaking quietly to him, your fingers curl the hair around his ear that's turning pink and he dips his head, bashful. 

“I hope so. I think it's cool that these players are gonna take breaks in their schedule and donate their time to teach them. I mean, they're gonna get experiences and lessons that they would never have gotten if not for this program and…sorry.” He shakes his head, biting back his excitement.

You lift his chin and give him another soft, and chaste kiss. The thundering of your heartbeat in your ears is worse than it’s ever been, the words sit ready on your tongue, but just don't come out. 

His eyes bounce between yours, like he’s waiting, before he finally looks down, clearing his throat as he gestures to your knee. “Can I?”

Feeling warm from the missed moment and under his concern, all you can do is nod silently. Steve’s thumbs slide over the sides of your kneecap, pressing gently and you wince. He tilts his head, fingers moving up to prod at the spot again and you grab his wrist with a whimper. 

“Well, I think bar hopping all day is out of the question,” Steve smiles sadly at you, “I think we should get some ice and heat on it. Prop it up.”

“But-” you start to protest and Robin interrupts.

“Already called an Uber, we can head to Nance and I's, have a chill day and then head to Murray's later tonight like originally planned.”

Sighing because you know you'll never win against the two of them teamed up, you nod. Steve’s arm curls around your waist as he helps you stand, both of you looking around with a frown.

“Where's Eddie?” You ask, head swiveling. 

Robin shrugs, gesturing behind you. “I don't know, he just took off running across the bridge when he got this look on his face. He was gone before I could ask.” She punches Steve’s shoulder, smiling, “Congrats Dingus.”

He smiles and lets you go, fingers slipping from your side as his arms wrap around her in a tight hug. As they squeeze each other, you take the opportunity to glance up at the circular, familiar towers. The stream of green clad people entering and exiting the House of Blues and you smile to yourself, thinking about the first time you were here and how far you’ve all come in just a year. 

Eddie rounds the corner, coming off the bridge then. His hands shoved in his leather jacket’s pockets, dirty sneaker dragging and kicking a pebble as he shakes his head, shoulders dropping in disappointment. 

“What’s the matter, tough guy?” You pout, tilting your head.

He waves it away, shrugging, “Nothing,” and your eyes narrow as he claps Steve on the shoulder, “Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” They both hit each other’s shoulders in a hug and you make eye contact with Eddie over Steve’s shoulder, arms crossing and eyebrows raised at him. 

He rolls his eyes, knowing you know it isn’t nothing and he will not be able to run from you. 

“Uber’s here!” 

Steve’s nose buries itself deeper into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling even with deep breaths. You brush the hair from his forehead and kiss his temple. 

Smiling against his skin, you look up to see Eddie staring at the two of you. A deep frown pulls his lips down, his thumbs dragging against the label of the beer in his hands, shredding it slowly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, hoping the sudden movement of your chest and noise of your voice doesn’t wake Steve. “I just missed him. I know the PDA is gross.”

“Hmm?” Eddie hums, like he didn’t really hear you, blinking at you confused. 

Gesturing with your free arm to him you explain, “You look kind of upset about our cuddling. And you were all grumpy at the river.”

He was fairly silent during the ride to Nancy and Robin’s, letting you prop your leg up on his thighs with your back against Steve’s chest as he stared out the window. Robin disappeared into their bedroom an hour ago, claiming to go wake Nancy who’d gotten in after midnight from chasing a story on the east coast, but you’re certain she’s asleep next to her. Steve had helped you to the couch, gingerly rolling your jeans up, mumbling his diagnosis around a wince at the sight of your swollen knee. He set you up with ice and a pillow, and you couldn’t blame him for also falling asleep after his busy weekend of meetings and flights. 

And Eddie was silent through it all, the only sound in the apartment being Charlie running around on screen trying to catch a Leprechaun in an episode of It’s Always Sunny. He just shakes his head, avoiding the question. 

“Come on Eddie, spill the beans. Open the door.” Prodding him with a smile and a small shrug of your shoulders. 

He smiles around a sip of beer, but shakes his head again. Eddie stands, punching the mantle lightly, before he turns and looks at Steve, then you as he blurts, “How’d you do it?”

Your brows pinch together as you question, “How’d I do what?”

“Fall in love again after…after being so hurt. What was the first step?”

His question surprises you, palms sweating as your skin prickles from a familiar burn. Glancing down at Steve before you stumble over a response, “We’re not…I’m not…I haven’t…”

Eddie gives you a look of disbelief, like you’re really trying to lie to him and he sits down on your other side. His eyebrows furrow under his bangs as he looks out the window seeming to be looking at something much further away.

“Okay, fine, easier question. Do you believe in soul mates?”

“What?” Blinking at him and wondering where he is going with all of this, your body squirming under the weight of Steve growing heavier. 

Eddie waves his hand around, searching for the words. “You know destiny. Help from the universe. A plan for everything. Fate and shit.”

Cocking your head to the side, you ponder his words. Steve’s arm sits curled around your waist and a soft snore leaves him, breath hitting your chest and you smile. “Yeah, I think I do. Never used to…but I don’t know. I think it’s nice to believe in those kinds of things sometimes.”

Eddie nods, the last of the label ripping and he swallows harshly before looking back up at you. His big, brown eyes blink at you seriously, full of more hope than you’ve ever seen in a person before. 

“Do you think you’re not supposed to meet them until you get your shit together? Like you’re meant to meet them at the right time? And how do you know it’s the right time? What if the right time passes you by?”

“I think,” you start, careful with your words as they come out. Your fingers brush through Steve’s hair carefully, whispering your answer as you stare at his cheek, “I think that sure, when you know, you know about someone. But that doesn’t mean admitting it to yourself, or anyone else for that matter, is easy. And maybe there is a plan, a person for everyone, but it’s up to you to decide when the time is right. Because,” you laugh quietly and Steve adjusts against you, his legs sandwiching your thigh and you look at Eddie, “Your shit is never gonna be together without that person, if they really are the one, right? Because wouldn’t your life not be perfect, whatever that means…or not on the right track, without them? Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” he smiles sadly at his bottle, brows furrowing even deeper, “Yeah it does. Thanks.”

He looks at Steve and then back at you, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you really haven’t told him?”

Swallowing loudly, your heartbeat picks up as your mouth parts to blurt out an excuse. Eddie only raises his empty beer bottle with a smirk, and stands, leaving you alone with Steve. 

It’s just not that simple. 

You’ve wanted to say it so many times over the last year, but the words never come out. Despite the work you’ve put in with yourself and your relationship, despite knowing it’s better to say it than spend your life wondering what if, saying that is still scary. 

Love is a powerful emotion and word not to be thrown around, but you also know the words are never just going to come out on their own. You will have to actively decide to say them, to take the leap into the unknown and leave your heart open even more for Steve. 

“Oh no,” Robin laughs around a moan. 

Nancy and your shot glasses hit the table, tart lime releasing over your tongue to counter some of the sting of the tequila flowing down your throat. Robin shakes her head and gestures to the stage and a cackling laugh leaves you as Steve winks at the table, tossing the microphone in the air from his spot waiting on deck for karaoke. 

“Oh, god, we need more tequila,” Nancy laughs, fingers covering her smile as she hiccups. 

Robin points at her. “No more tequila.”

“But, babe, this is going to be bad,” Nancy whines, “You’ve heard him-”

“Oh no.” You bury your head in your arms on the sticky table as the name of his song choice flashes on the screen. 

Robin starts laughing uncontrollably and Steve clears his throat, looking directly at you where you peek out from behind your hands. “This is for you baby.” He points to you as the beginning notes of Rocketman by Elton John begin to drift from the speakers and the crowd cheers and whistles. 

“Here, you’re gonna need this when he hits the falsetto,” Eddie hands you a beer, distributing more drinks around the table, shaking his head. 

You can’t help but have a smile so wide that your cheeks hurt as Steve sings to you, dramatic facial expressions and pressing his hand to his chest, winking at you as he declares he’s a rocket man. You can’t help but cheer, and feel hot under his stare, can’t help but think about saying those words right then and there, what if you just screamed them across the bar for everyone to hear. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie sputters on his beer next to you. 

“What?” You turn, confused, worried you actually did blurt them out. 

“She’s…she’s here. I thought I saw her at the river, that’s where I went, and l lost her, and she’s here. She’s…”

“Who, what?” You step closer to him, leaning in and he spins your shoulders and points to a girl at the bar.

“I met her at that disastrous Halloween party a year ago and she was perfect and awesome and you and Steve had to go and pretend like you weren’t in love and fuck it all up.”

“We weren’t-”

“Please, who shows up in a couples costume accidentally. Boy loved you then and he loves you now. But none of that matters because she’s here.” His cheeks are pink, staring at her and gulping. “That’s a sign right? What do I do?”

“Go get her.” You shove his shoulder with a smile and his eyes widen, but he nods, taking a step towards the bar. 

He pauses, and you wonder if it’s his moment, his what if, his leap. You smile as he squares his shoulders and keeps going, stopping in front of the girl who looks at him surprised. She smiles as he extends his hand, ears red and talking nonstop. She takes it, shaking it and nodding. 

Steve is bowing to cheering from Robin and Nancy as he approaches the table and Murray clears his throat in the microphone. 

“Well, uh, that sure was somethin’ huh?” He frowns at Steve and deadpans to the crowd, “We’re gonna take a break now.”

You hide your laughter into the beer as Steve drums on the table, smiling at you, leaning in close. Lips brushing over your ear as he teases, “I cannot believe you have a thing for Elton John.”

Your head throws back in a laugh as he kisses under your ear, his smile sticking to your skin as you nod. “You got me, Harrington.”

Steve and you stand close together and he smiles at something over your shoulder and clears his throat, “Hey, um, how’s your knee? Feel like sitting for a little?”

His fingers tangle with yours, his voice soft, and something in you melts under his gaze as you nod.

“Great,” he kisses you lightly, pulling away and guiding you across the room, coming to a stop in front of the vintage photo booth. “I think we should try this again.”

As he pulls the red curtain back and sits, this time, you don’t hesitate when he pats his thigh. Your heart hammers inside of your chest, the metal armor around it clatters to the floor with one final knock. 

Steve’s arms wrap around your waist easily, fingers slipping together as he clears his throat and leans forward, looking at you as he asks with a smile, “Ready?”

In that moment, you wish there was a photobooth to capture every moment of the last year - every memory. 

You nod, the machine whirring to life as you smile at each other for the first photo. As the flash happens, Steve lets out a shaky breath, your hands moving up to his jaw without really thinking about it. Your fingertips trace over his face, eyebrows, his nose, the pair of freckles on his cheek and his cupid’s bow as his hands squeeze up your waist and sides. 

You wish there had been a camera when Steve surprised you with dinner that first week together. Your favorite food, a bottle of wine, and then he slow danced with you to ‘It Had To Be You’ in his living room. You could have said it then, a week of barely dating, but it felt so easy. 

Steve leans into your touch as the second flash happens. You twist in his lap, breath coming sharper as you straddle him, your nose brushing up his as you smile. 

If only there had been a camera when Steve came over to your apartment and found you crying over your phone screen, the animal shelter page was brought up and he went with you the next day. Why didn’t you blurt it out then, when back at his place, he was on all fours, a small black lab’s head tilted at him curiously. Steve held a plush sword and whispered in a terrible voice “Your name is Inigo Montoya, I killed your father, I’m prepared to die,” and pretended to be impaled by the sword when the rescued puppy pounced on him. 

Steve’s hand moves up your spine slowly, his other cupping your jaw as your lips just brush when the third flash goes off. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, it’s been an active fight to not say those three little words to him since Christmas. You had a fight, and of course it was about money. How you had seen the package with European stamps and he said it was a present for you and you yelled about how he can’t just buy expensive things because he can and what were you supposed to do, how were you supposed to get him a gift of equal value. That’s when he ripped open the brown shipping package, lifting out of packing peanuts, a glass blue dish - just like the one that shattered. He held it carefully, shaking his head, apologizing for breaking the original, for knowing that he couldn’t replace it, but he searched and searched and found this one. Nobody had a camera, and you didn’t say it, because that’s when you knew. That’s when it got really scary and really real. 

Steve’s lips press to yours as the fourth flash happens, your stomach dropping like a roller coaster as his breath exhales into your inhale. 

Easier than breathing. 

“Will you move in with me?”

“I love you.”

Both questions asked in sync and you blink, shocked. Steve keeps going, eyes closed as he speaks, “I know it’s a big step, but I think we’re ready and…”

“Yes.”

“Wait, what did you say?”

Steve’s eyes shoot open, your response and his question leaving you both at the same time again. 

Your eyes are full of tears, laughing as you cup his cheeks and exhale, repeating the words. 

“I love you.”

The fifth flash goes off as Steve smiles, thumb holding your chin as he gulps around the words. “I love you too.”

Steve’s fingers fumble with his keys, refusing to separate his lips from yours until you’re speaking into them, an ache in your gut as your fingers scratch at the back of his head.

“Baby, hurry.”

He whimpers into your lips, “Not fair.”

It’s a mess of keys hitting the floor and shoes and coats ripped off, easy laughter as he attacks your neck with hot presses of his lips, frantic as he speaks around them, “Fast enough for you, huh?”

“Steve,” you stutter over your laugh, toes curling against the carpet as he sucks on that spot he found just below your ear.  

He’s smug, speaking into your neck as his hands on your hips guide you backwards until your knees hit his bed. He gasps out a desperate plea as you both fall. 

“Say it again.”

Your fingers curl the hair around his ears, swallowed whole by the forest in his eyes, you want to be buried there as you raise your head from the sheets. 

“I.” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Love.” He exhales as your lips skim over his jaw. 

“You.” Lips dragging over the two moles on his neck and he melts against you. 

He lifts himself, palms pressed to the mattress next to your head, saying it right back like it’s a promise. 

“I love you.”

He unbuckles your jeans, carefully removing them. Kissing your ankle, your knee, and then the crease of your thigh as he murmurs into your skin, “I love how you slap my shoulder when the colors in a sunset change. And that you mouth along the words to your favorite movies.”

His fingers drag up your shirt, lips and nose grazing up your stomach as you squirm beneath him. 

“I love the way you dance in the kitchen as you burn anything you touch and sing so off key into your shampoo bottle in the shower.”

He keeps going, telling you every little thing he’s grown to love about you, only stopping when you start to interrupt him and do the same. Soft touches and lingering kisses between words whispered to each other that replace your breaths, because it’s not easier than doing so, it’s what gives you the ability to be able to. 

When his hand flexes on your waist, a slow thrust in and your back arches, his head dips into your neck and he pauses his movements. Steve’s nose drags along the gold chain that rests between your collarbones. He props himself up, free hand grazing up your side as your hips roll once slowly, and he lifts the little gold ‘S’ hanging from it. 

“Mine,” he whispers.

You nod, body shivering with the word and the gentle tug he gives the necklace. 

“Yours.”

Lips meet desperately, as your bodies melt together, declarations of devotion spoken between sweet kisses and praise. Steve’s fingers lace with yours as you both climb higher and higher. Gripping each other’s hands, pushed above your head and into the mattress, as planets align, euphoria breaks over you like waves crashing, flames burning hotter, stars exploding, and you finally meet each other where you’ve always been meant to - calling it love. 

WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Replenishing the Nonfiction Stack; or, We're Calling the Book Buying Ban a Wash, Officially.

I am not, apparently, immune to coupons for niche nonfiction that's directly up my alley (octopus minds and RUSSIAN OWLS, hello??? Thanks, bookshop!).

I thought perhaps the BURGLAR'S GUIDE would also be covered under said coupon, since it was publisher-specific (alas: it was Not, but we might as well bundle for shipping purposes). And then while I was shopping IRL for gifties I found a copy of ROOM, which has been on my list for...ever? So! Hopefully these will hold me over on the nonfiction front for a minute!

[essektheylyss]

hi hello hi I need to scream for a sec but I HAVE A SHORT STORY IN A PRINT ANTHOLOGY! like a real actual physical book!!! the anthology as a whole is about resource scarcity and specifically the moment a resource runs out, and true to form I wrote a funky thing about time and grief and messy familial relationships and gardening. cuz what is there to do when something ends other than to keep maintaining your plants.

this isn't even to say you should totally buy this thing but if you do want to check it out, it's available for preorder

[r7inyz]

YOU CANT HIDE

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I'm a brand new follower, so please forgive me if this has already been asked.

I found your page because of your short story The Blue Key. It was SO captivating from start to finish! There's plenty of debate about what's behind the door in the comments, and I'm happy to continue speculating along!

I want to be sure of something first: Is there a sequel? Or any kind of continuation?

I'm a writer myself, so I know that it can be very unsatisfying for YOU when a reader to ask for specificity when you have created a beautiful ending that is *deliberately* ambiguous. So I want to be clear- that's not what I'm asking!

I would just love to know if there are any other stories on your page that contribute to the *😈Lore😈* of it all.

Even if there isn't, is there a certain post you could point me to where I can find more of your short stories?

Thanks SO MUCH for your time and for sharing your talent!

Much love! Rock on!

Thank you!

No, there isn't a sequel or continuation. That was the intended ending :) (The Blue Key is here). I don't have anything really detailing the intended lore - it's based of the fairytale 'Bluebeard' and others like it, which are referenced in the story.

Other stories:

The Gallery of Broken Things (Frankenstein inspired)

Half Sick of Shadows (fey, wild hunt-esque)

The Art of Turning 30 (kinda Dorian Gray inspired)

And so they all lived happily ever after

My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose (mortal antagonises Aphrodite)

Microfiction about a fey and their human lover

Those five are all ones that I'd consider complete and were constructed in a way more similar to The Blue Key, i.e they weren't written as a writing snippet or scene. The Blue Key is my personal favourite though.

I also have a novel out; The God Key. (Though that's not fairytale based).

My page is also full of snippets and story scenes if you like enemies to lovers or fantasy. I'm also very slowly working on a fairytale-inspired collection, which includes The Blue Key.

I hope this helps!