#// not that he minds he's actually quite eager to learn about himself

[rpgchoices]

About Davrin and his past (from the banter with Bellara) and more (SPOILERS)

Spoilers for the whole game!!

Davrin being the kind of person who believes he has an expiration death and should not get attached, only flirting and having flings, quick to start the flirting romance (one flirting choice and he already has the heart in the description)

"Thrill of the chase"

who calls himself a blade and believes he is ready to die at any moment and desperate for purpose

The way Davrin comes off is isolated, with purpose, slightly suicidal and harsh. In the banter with Bellara she asks a lot of questions about his Dalish clan (which he left because he felt constrained) and if he regrets leaving it:

and

(I promise I will make a compilation video of all the dalish banter)

So the core of Davrin's character is purpose and he chose the hunter + grey warden because of it. This banter feels quite lonely, if I have to be honest, and in another banter scene he also says (if I remember correctly) that he does not visit his dalish clan (a part from his uncle). It almost feels like a sunk-cost-fallacy. From his first quest we know that he left his clan, ended up broke and could not go back so he started hunting monsters but he needed purpose.

The second core of Davrin's storyline is that sometimes when he talks about Assan he is talking about himself. Assan is, in his mind, a sharped blade (arrow) who needs to quickly learn how to fight to survive (and in some cutscenes Davrin brings as justification the fact that this is how he learnt as well, on his own and out of necessity). So the whole dialogue about "can the nature of something change" is essentially about him as well.

It starts to change with Assan of course, we see him actually get attached to ONE thing for the first time ever. How do we know? First of all, he did not seem particularly attached to the two trainers, but second, he also says so in his romance dialogue:

And when Davrin is about to die (archdemon) the one thing he thinks about is Assan ("Give Assan a hug for me"). So yes, "The thril of the chase" was just that. He was flirting, he wanted to keep things casual and then "his nature" (or more like: the nature related to the purpose he had given himself) started to change.

His character arc goes from a sharpened blade with no attachment and eager to die for a bigger purpose, to someone who does not want to die anymore, who literally wants domestic bliss.

Which is even more tragic because he is one of the two characters who can die (and will die depending on your choices), which lead you to this scene where he says:

Also I am pretty sure all the other romances say "I love you" during the game (I think Emmrich during his personal quest), or during the romance scene pre-final fight. Let me know if I am wrong! Davrin's "I love you" scene instead is the literal last scene before the final battle (the one after you rescue Neve/Bellara).

Davrin's last cutscene pre-fight instead is pretty explicit (i think the most explicit one after Taash) and is mainly a reassurance about surviving the battle and the future.

So YES I love Davrin. Great romance, A+, wish it had more scenes in the middle, wish we knew more about his Dalish clan, but at least there is enough space between the lines and work on fanfics!!

[pomefioredove]

um um. the nbc boys with a reader thats smart and learns easily but has trouble keeping up with the school system(? for lack of better words). they get distracted and bored easily, forget about homework, doodle on their papers and stare out the window, etc. they get great test scores and do exceptionally well when they are interested in what they’re learning, but otherwise get burned out really quick. i don’t know much about your nbc but it seems like the system is pretty fast paced and doesn’t really leave room for mistakes! 🫶🫶 i love your designs for nbc so far. can already tell the readers gonna have a blast (and a migraine)

my first ever noble bell oc request... rubs my hands together evilly

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ no room for mistakes (noble bell college)

inspired by my AU

type of post: headcanons characters: rollo, original characters; pierrot, bou, phoenix, clodio additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Rollo Flamme will arrange a precise time to study with you every day, whether you ask him or not. it's within his best interest that you succeed at Noble Bell (heavens forbid you're shipped off to a lesser, simpler arcane academy like that terrible Night Raven College), and so there will be no room for mistakes. this isn't something you should take for granted, either; Rollo is a very busy man, and to have an hour of his time for him to tutor you is a privilege. at least, that's what everyone else will tell you

to Rollo, this is nothing. he would make his whole weekend for you, if you asked. perhaps his whole life

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pierrot Gregoire is probably the last person you should be going to for help. yes, he's exceptionally intelligent in the ways of history and literature, and yes, he could lecture you for hours longer than your actual professor does, but I doubt you would actually get anything but a headache out of it. he's a poet, not a tutor, and he has a tendency to talk himself in circles, go on tangents, anecdote about his personal life... yeah. it would take a special sort of mind to keep up with him, otherwise, you're probably better off trying to make sense of his unorganized class notes... which are just as full of doodles and daydreams as yours

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Bou de Neige is known for making harsh judgments about his peers... which are often accurate. and so he can tell, by the way you talk and articulate and express, that you're not a blithering idiot. you only lack the discipline that the typical Noble Bell College student has. and if it weren't for Rollo's faith in you, and his own damned pity, Bou would have been happy to let you fail...

...but he doesn't. he sits next to you in classes and pinches your arm when you're dozing off, or not paying attention to something important. he leers over you and corrects the mistakes on your homework before you turn it in. he begins carrying clean paper for you to doodle on, and insists it's nothing (it's so over for him)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Phoenix Bussiere is not what I would call a trustworthy tutor. he's not even a trustworthy student. oh, but don't think he wouldn't love to waste a few hours every week "helping you study" while he vandalizes 500 year old wood desks and falls asleep in the library. he's way too eager to volunteer. and how can you say no? his attention is highly valuable; the jealous glares of other students make that obvious. and perhaps you wouldn't have minded working alone, without anyone breathing down your neck... except he doesn't let you. he couldn't care less about the homework, but he'll ask you a thousand questions about yourself

...you can never quite tell if he actually cares, or if he's just passing the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if you think Clodio LeFou would be the worst of the group, you'd be very wrong. is it chaotic? yes. but he'll teach you Latin while hanging upside down (and he's really quite good at it). he's managed to get by at Noble Bell without raising any eyebrows, after all, and his grades certainly reflect that. he'll act out your history lessons and critique your writing assignments like a professional. he'll make a puppet just to teach you math. it's unconventional, especially for Noble Bell, but it's much better than the dry lectures from your professors. you'll take what you can get

[hellguarded-moved]

canon ig: born with bright, magenta-hued eyes that darkened into his usual crimson in adulthood modern ig: born with dark brown eyes that brightened into his usual crimson in adulthood

[beelmons]

How to shut a genius up.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

cw: face riding, i think that's it?

Spencer is, gently put, annoying.

But well, aren't we all at times? At least, he's annoying for all the right reasons. Rampant mind eager to share an endless stream of knowledge, well-deserved validation of his own extraordinary skills, pinkish lips that spoke their mind without concern, words were a tool he used for good, never with an ounce of malice.

It seemed to you that talking was all he knew. No matter how much you rubbed your hand on his thigh at the bar the team went to, or that asked him for his shower after a drunk man dropped an entire yard of beer on your clothes, or the fact that you were standing in his livingroom with only a towel wrapped around your body, and how you were paying no mind to whatever he was saying and your eyes were fixed on his mouth, the same mouth you had been craving for quite a while now.

"...and that's why, although I'm not a fan of digital encyclopedias, Wikipedia can actually be considered a reliable source of information. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the referenciation of other related concepts makes it the most efficient learning tool of the century."

Little did you know, he had begun his little rant in an attempt to keep himself distracted from your nudeness beneath the fabric that covered you. Trying to keep the blood from flowing too much to the south.

"You talk too much." you blurted out.

"Sorry?" he asked in confusion "What are you—?"

Your actions, as was your wording, were automatic. You took a couple of steps forward and faintly heard his inquiring voice in the background, but you didn't quite care. You were aiming for a goal: to make him shut up. Your lips attached to his in a frustrated kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.

He was dubfounded to a point where his movements also became clumsy, he stepped on a random book that was misplaced and lost his balance. His hands had gripped onto your sides, so you couldn't help but to fall onto the ground along with him.

The rucks caused him to wince in discomfort, a sensation the only lasted about the three seconds that took him to open his eyes. Due to the angle, you had given an extra step and fallen a couple more centimeteres forward, your towel spread open, and your stomach at the same level of his eyes.

While you yourself figured out what was going on, a sudden rush of embarassment overtook you. Logically, since you were now bare naked hovering over your crush.

"Shit!" you yelled out as you were on your knees and palms on the ground "I'm so sorry, Spencer, I don't know what took over me!"

Beridden by anguish, instead of taking the sensible action of rolling off of him, you tried to crawl your way forward. What you didn't see coming, however, was the fact that, as your knees pressed next to his head when you tried to drag yourself from his sight, his hands would press against your thighs to stop you.

Your core was now loitering over his face, out in the open for his eyes to devour. For once, he had found himself amiss of words. You, on your part, were hot to your face with shyness. This had not been what you planned when you decided to kiss him, certainly. Although, such train of thought would be shortly stopped by Spencer himself.

His arms curled around your thighs instead and gently tugged them down; by the time to were 'sitting' on his face, his tongue was already out. The feeling of his muscle entering you caused a loud, startled gasp from you, and before you could get used to the sensation, it traveled further up to your clit.

"Spencer..." you whimpered slightly at the pleasure he was giving you.

You decided to straighten your back to be fully sitting, and in this new position you were in control of your own hips, same that began to rock back and forth against his lips. On his part, single grunts of delight could be heard, his hands positioned themselves at your buttocks, helping you push your body against his face.

His mouth was eager to taste more of you, you could feel the entirety of it working it's way around your pussy, his lips slurping the juices that dripped from you out of arousal. Your hands curled on his hair to prevent you from falling to the side, given that your legs were about close to giving in.

His nose and chin did their part as well, touching nerves that would be otherwise unattended in any other position. The rubbing and moiture of his abused face were sending waves of intense pleasure through out your body, in fact, at some point you sort of forgot he was there, eyes tight shut, just using him to get yourself off.

Hence, why when you finally reached your climax, you came without restraint all over him. His tongue didn't start working inspite of your body falling limp forward, he was set on cleaning the mess he had created.

You whined in complaint at the slight overstimulation, and he took it as a sign to push you off, causing you to roll over as you should initially have. Instead of moving away from you, his face was buried between your legs the instead he was on his stomach, hardworking tongue lazily tasting around your entrance.

"You finally shut up." your back arched as you breathed out, bracing yourself of the next round you quickly understood was coming.

"I have an enough good reason to."

[charliehoennam]

sweet stranger

A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading

Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

part two

"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.

You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.

The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.

You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.

Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.

Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.

Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.

After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.

The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.

The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.

Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.

You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.

Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.

The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.

It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.

"You must be Mr. Solomons."

"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."

His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.

"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."

"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.

Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.

Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.

"May I take your coat, love?"

"Yes, please."

You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavish decoration of the suite never fails to impress.

Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.

Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.

But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.

Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.

If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.

The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.

Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.

Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.

He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.

It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.

"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"

"Not often. Clouds the mind."

"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.

"Wine is my favorite."

"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."

Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.

You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.

After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.

You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.

No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.

As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"

"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."

It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.

"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."

With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.

The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.

You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.

"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."

Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.

"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."

He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.

You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.

A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.

"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."

He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.

You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.

"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.

"No, love. Just flesh."

"Fortunately."

Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.

Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.

"How is that, sir? More pressure?"

"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."

"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.

Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.

The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.

Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.

"Is this alright?" You whisper.

"More than alright."

"I can go lower if you'd like me to."

He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.

"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."

You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.

You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.

"Would you like me to touch you?"

You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.

You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.

Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.

As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.

The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.

"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.

He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.

"L-love, you feel so good."

You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.

"You're fucking beautiful, sir."

"Oh, you think so, yeah?"

You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.

"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.

He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.

"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"

His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.

"May I?"

You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.

His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.

"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.

The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.

You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.

Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.

The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.

"It's gonna be a long night."

[grassyhorizon45]

Could you do a fic where y/n has did, but it doubting themselves and convincing themselves they don't have it? Or just more fics with did. I love reading them but I can't find very many

ok.. so this rotted my brain a little and ended up becoming maybe quite long :D srry in advanced for all the DID terms and such :3 pt 2 will come soon I promise.

Help.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

Marauders x Y/n but she realises something a little different about herself and the insecurity starts to build.

Warnings: A small bit of yelling, mostly fluff...and a few big words :D

Words: 718

It was subtle at first…

“H-Huh? What do you mean potion class was yesterday?”

“How did I end up here again?”

Then the voices, occasional laughs no one else could hear—

“Siri, I'm h-hearing things again…”

Remus heard from across the room. “Again bunny?”  “That's not good, maybe we should talk to a professor about it?” Sirius suggested.

Y/n refused…… refused to alert the professors of her anomaly, refused to admit it was hindering her ability to function—

Refused to admit it bothered her a lot.

“I told you about the party three times already… What do you mean ‘I never mentioned anything about a party’??!”  James put a hand on Sirius's shoulder at the sight of Y/n tensing up. “Calm down Pads, there's no need to yell. 

Sirius took a deep breath, “I just… d-don't understand, love.” 

……I don't understand either. 

* * *

“I think I found an answer,” Remus said when they were hanging out in the boys’ room one day. 

“An answer?” asked James.  “To Y/n’s sudden… forgetfulness.”

“And the voices?” Y/n couldn't stop herself from blurting.  Remus smiled to himself proudly, “And the voices, bunny.” 

“You found the cause, Moons?” Sirius walked over to the boy whose nose was deep into his book, ruffling Remus’ light brown hair. 

“It's called Dissociative Identity Disorder…” 

“Disso- Wh-What?” Y/n couldn't catch the word. 

“A character in this book has it… He's very detached sometimes and he tends to forget events he and his friends witnessed; so kind of like you, bunny.” 

“D-Detached? D-Do I-?” James nodded at Y/n’s question. “Sometimes, baby.” 

“He talks to himself occasionally too,” Remus added about the character’s description. “The protagonist thinks it's schizophrenia, but the narrator says it's cause of the voices in his head–” 

“Imma stop you there, Moony,” Sirius butt-in as he saw the slight panic growing in Y/n's eyes.  “For one, how do we know if this ‘identity disorder’ thing isn’t something the author made up, and two, if our bunny actually has it. Additionally if so, what do we do about it?”

Sirius made a valid point, yet all Y/n's mind could cling on to was how accurate Remy’s fictional character resembled the things she was experiencing. 

“Baby, you okay?” James put a steady hand around her waist. 

Y/n blinked a few times, bringing herself back to the present. 

“Y-Yeah, I'm good,” she assured her three worried looking boyfriends. “C-Can you write the d-disorder down for me Remy? I think I'll hit the library.” 

“Why don't we pay the library a visit together? I'm down to crack this case,” said Sirius, eager to get started. 

“Sirius Orion Black wanting to visit the library?” James gasped sarcastically. “Never heard of it,” beamed Remus. 

Y/n giggled, “Okay, okay. You guys can come too.” 

* * *

Digging deeper into this so-called ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder’, there were subdiagnoses like OSDD: Other Specified Dissociative Disorder or just amnesia itself could be a possibility. 

Y/n's boyfriends all had their heads wrapped around learning things like multiple personalities, dissociative amnesia, headspace theory, and even causes of DID. 

“I d-don't even have ‘alters’......"

"Guys, it's not so important, we can just let it slide you know…” Y/n mumbled, hating the silence of endless research. 

“Plus Jamie, you have a match against Hufflepuff tomorrow… Shouldn't you practice?” 

“You're right,” James remembered. “I do have a match…” 

Remus shrugged, “Go ahead Prongs, we don't mind.” 

James said a quick thanks before hurrying off. Y/n turned to look at Sirius. The black haired was sprawled on the library table, snoring softly. 

Was never a bookworm that man, unlike Remus. 

“Rem, I think we should leave it,” Y/n said to him as he asked yet another ‘are you experiencing this’ question. 

“We just wanna help you figure this out bunny…” 

“I know… But it's not really a big deal and it's probably just me being forgetful and a touch of sleep deprivation anyways. Look, even Siri’s fast asleep… At least take a break, love?” 

“Alright.” 

It wasn't that Y/n didn't trust her significant others, nor was it really because she was tired. All she wanted was to shut off all possibilities that she could actually be mentally unstable, to make sure she wasn't being a walking ‘waste of time’.

Yet...

She couldn't shake the bugging thought that this whole thing was somehow a facade......

A trick her mind had orchestrated for attention...

...what?

[koji-haru]

Swap AU Part: 4

[One last update before I no longer have free time aaahhh]

It was yet another perfect day in Eden. Bright blue skies spotted with fluffy white clouds, midday rays warming up the inhabitants of the garden. Michael sat on a rock by the lake basking in the sun’s relaxing warmth, his lunch for today in a small woven basket beside him. The basket was filled with mangoes. Yellow mangoes. The soft, sweet and juicy kind, not those sour green ones Adam had given him before. Ever since Adam’s little trick on him, Michael had become more careful and observant of the fruits Adam offered him. He actually found it quite interesting to learn about the plants in the garden. To think that there were multiple variations of the same fruit, each differing in texture, smell and flavour. How despite their similarities, some require widely different conditions in order to grow and flourish. He was starting to see why Lucifer was always eager to explore the garden. 

Michael bit into the ripe mango he was holding, its sweet juices a pleasant wash on his taste buds. The food in Eden was good and unique in its own ways, the environment had this atmosphere that seemed to always drain stress and fatigue away, and the animals were all so beautiful and playful. Those things made Eden a place worth visiting, but… Michael looked on towards the lake, loud splashes and carefree laughter could be heard not too far from him. Somehow, Adam had managed to drag a lion in the lake to play with him and the fishes. Michael let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of the scene in front of him. The first man’s sunny and adventurous disposition, including his mischievous antics, had certainly caused the angel to become quite fond of him. The garden itself was definitely something worth visiting, but Adam kept him coming back. 

Heavy wet fur dragged itself across the lake towards the rock Michael was on. He could hear Adam’s whines begging the feline to stay longer in the water with him as he clung onto it, his weight of no effect to the large, clearly fed up, animal. Michael scooched away from the approaching pair, careful not to wet his robes, as they approached the rock. The lion dropped Adam onto the rock before it dragged itself towards the grass to shake the water off its coat. For all his whining and begging the lion to stay in the water, Adam himself looked exhausted as he remained prone on his spot, limp and barely moving. Michael poked his head with a mango and Adam turned his head to face the angel.

“Peel it for me?,” Adam asked using his, as he called it, ‘puppy dog eyes’.

How bold. The first man had been becoming more and more brazen towards him these past few days, though Michael hadn’t put much effort to prevent it. He couldn’t help it, he had come to care for this fragile human. And so, he peeled the mango before handing it over to Adam, who simply opened his mouth as he continued lying on the rock. 

Michael paused, pulling the fruit away. “Adam, you’re not a baby.”

“But I’m tiiiired,” whined Adam. “I can’t move my limbs.”

Michael simply looked at him with an unsmiling, blank face before slowly moving the mango towards his mouth ready to take a bite.

“Ah noo!,” Adam suddenly got up from his spot, one hand reaching out for the mango.

“See?,” Michael said as he stopped himself from eating the fruit and placed it on Adam's hand. “You’re not that tired.”

Adam took the fruit placed in his hands a small pout on his lips. “How merciless,” he huffed. 

“Yes yes, I’m Michael the merciless warrior of God,” Michael smiled. 

The smile on his face quickly faded though, once a thought crossed his mind. Back up in Heaven, he remembered overhearing some angels’ talk about their concerns about Adam and Lilith’s progress. How they had waited so long, and yet, they had nothing to show for it. 

“How long has it been?,” one angel asked.

“Too long as far as I know,” another answered. 

“I think I heard they don’t even get along well.”

“At this point, we might as well consider it a failure.”

Michael frowned. There was no way someone like Adam was a failure. True, his relationship with Lilith was rocky at best, and he had been having some difficulties, but Michael was sure it was something that could be mended in due time. In fact, Adam was already doing way better than when he first took the duty to care for him. Still, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give the first man a little push. Just to ease the concerns up in Heaven. 

Michael cleared his throat, requesting Adam’s attention. “Adam, I know I said I wouldn’t force you to tell me anything but,” he inched a little closer to the human. “Heaven is a little concerned about humanity’s progress.”

The way Adam shifted and looked away from him told him that the man still wasn’t willing to tell him anything. What could it be that he was so adamant to keep quiet about?

“If you divulge to me what caused your rift with Lilith, then I might be able to help,” he continued. “Only if you wish of course.”

After a few moments of silence, Adam finally turned to face him, but still not looking into his eyes. Instead he focused on the mango on his hand, fiddling with it. He took a peek at Michael, who tried to make himself look as benign as possible. The angel had been nothing but kind to him, and so far had kept his words, evident by his continued visits and lack of other angels prying into his business. With a deep sigh, he finally spoke, “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I promise,” Michael quickly answered.

Adam turned his whole body to face the angel fully, his golden eyes hardened with seriousness. “Not like that. You have to truly promise! Swear that you won’t tell anyone else!”

Had Michael been negligent? Was it actually more serious than he initially thought? Now he was unsure if he had handled the situation properly. He knew he shouldn’t agree to Adam’s terms. If it was something important, then Heaven had to be informed. It was just the way things were.

Sensing his reluctance, Adam sat back down away from Michael, a frown on his face. “Otherwise, I won’t tell you anything.”

Well, he couldn’t have that. But to keep some things hidden from Heaven didn’t sit well with him. It almost felt like going behind their back in some way. He leaned back a bit, a hand on his chin, blue eyes in an ocean of thoughts. If he thought carefully about it… He was part of Heaven, one of its highest ranking angels, in fact. So if Adam talked to him about it, it would just be like telling Heaven about it. He was also involved in this Eden project, he had authority, the only difference would be that not everyone would know. And they didn’t have to. Yeah, that still sounded wrong to the upright angel. But, if he could solve it, then the others wouldn’t even need to know. Michael nodded to himself, trying very hard to convince himself to agree to Adam’s terms. 

Having convinced himself, Michael focused back on Adam. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this decision. With a hand over his chest, he finally responded, “Alright. I swear as an angel that I won’t reveal to anyone else what you are about to tell me.”

Adam let out a sigh of relief, his body visibly relaxing as he let his previous unease drain away. He was glad that Michael was willing to compromise for him. With a deep breath, he finally revealed what he had been holding back, “Lilith and Lucifer are…together.”

…

“What?” 

Did Michael hear him wrong? Did he just hear Adam say that his brother was with the first woman?

Adam shifted awkwardly on his seat. “They admitted it to me,” he continued with a bit of difficulty. His voice trembled a little, after having spent time away from them, he thought he would find it easier to digest, but apparently not. He had come to terms with it in his mind, but talking about it out loud was a different ordeal. His throat felt dry and it was as if there was a lump in his throat. Still, he managed to continue, “That’s why I couldn’t bear to be with them anymore.”

To say that he was shocked would be an understatement. Michael appalled. His very own brother, the one who was supposed to be the main caretaker of the garden and its inhabitants, the one who was supposed to guide the first humans, was also the one to have brought ruin to their relationship. This was not something to be taken lightly. Lucifer had committed a transgression towards Heaven. 

“Adam, this can’t continue. They cannot get away with infidelity. They must face the consequences,” Michael told Adam as he got ready to confront both Lucifer and Lilith. 

“No!,” Adam exclaimed. His hands were immediately on the angel’s shoulders urging him to back down. “You promised!”

“I promised not to tell anyone, but I can still give out their punishment myself,” Michael stated. 

“Michael, please.” Adam looked at him with desperate sad eyes that looked about to burst. “They’ve hurt me, I know, but I still care for them,” he paused, taking one of Michael’s hands into his, grasping it firmly as he begged for both Lucifer and Lilith’s well being. “I don’t wish harm on them.”

Michael looked down on the tanned hands that desperately grasped onto his. Now what? With Lucifer in the picture, humanity couldn’t really progress from here. He could just ignore Adam’s pleading and punish both Lucifer and Lilith, maybe even salvage the project in the process. But he couldn’t just do that, could he? Adam’s hands still held Michael’s, still trying to stop the mighty angel, knowing fully well that he couldn’t do anything if Michael decided to go anyway. How could his heart ache for those who have betrayed him like that? Where did he find the space in his heart to still worry for them? Again, this was something Michael would like to correct Adam about. It was great to be kind as one should be, but that didn’t mean you should allow others to escape the consequences of their misdeeds. Adam was kind, too kind to the point that it was blinding him. But then it seemed that Michael himself was also too kind to Adam, and was willing to be blind this time. 

He didn’t know what to do, but perhaps all of Heaven would soon notice the obvious lack of progress in Eden and come up with a solution themselves. He supposed he could just…wait it out. 

Michael took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. He really truly didn’t want to do this but…he had been blinded. 

“Do you know how long they had been going behind your back?,” Michael asked.

Adam looked up from where he still held the angel’s hand, a little confused by the sudden change. “Um…f-for about half a year.”

Michael winced. How cruel. To do that to someone so innocent. “Once I see Lucifer again…” Michael thought to himself. While he would spare Lucifer punishment, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t confront him about what he did. He was being too kind already.

“Well, since I already know, do you want to talk about it?”

“Um.”

“Just what you’re willing to share.”

Adam nodded at that. And so, he spilled his heart out to Michael. How he was trying so hard to fix his relationship with Lilith and how Lucifer seemed willing to help, only for the two of them to reveal their betrayal the following day. How he felt that all those moments he spent with them in those six months they were going behind his back felt like a lie. How his friendship with Lucifer didn’t feel real anymore. 

“Sometimes, I wonder, was I the problem?,” Adam sniffled. “Was something wrong with me? Lilith never seemed to truly like me, while even someone as nice as Lucifer still deceived me.” He was told on the day he was made that he was God’s most perfect creation, but sometimes he didn’t think it was true. 

Michael stretched out his wings and covered Adam with them, pushing the first man towards him in a comforting hug. The coolness of his wings were a solace to Adam’s pain like a protective shield against any further heartache. It was difficult for Michael to comfort someone, he wasn’t exactly the best when it came to these kinds of situations. Oftentimes, he wasn’t sure what to do and simply asked others to help him out or to do it in his stead. But Adam had no one else to seek comfort from except Michael, so despite being unsure of what to do, he would try his best anyway. 

“How could there be something wrong with you?,” he said as he gazed sincerely into Adam’s beautiful golden eyes. “You have done nothing but followed God’s commands. You remain pure and perfect, still God’s most perfect creation, alright?”

Adam didn’t know what it was. Whether it was the soft embrace of Michael’s wings around him or the way streaks of sunlight peeked through the feathers, shining speckles of golden light on the angel’s handsome face under the darkness of their cover. But for a brief moment, he could feel his own heart beating erratically as it pumped blood towards his face, warming it up. Adam quickly turned away, his cheeks flushed pink. Why was he nervous so suddenly? 

With his face still turned away, Adam nodded, “A-alright, thank you.” He turned his face slightly to glimpse at Michael. With an earnest smile on his lips, he continued, “Really. Thank you for listening to me. It’s like you’ve lifted a heavy burden off my shoulders.”

“I’m glad to help, and I’ll always be glad to help.” Seeing Adam so relieved and happy like this filled Michael with contentment. He supposed it was worth postponing Lucifer and Lilith’s punishment if it resulted in easing Adam’s burdens.

Part 3

Part 5

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter three

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: You and Eddie go to a party.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 5.4k+

TAG LIST: @emma77645, @aliciabb17, @gracieluvthemoon, @kellsck, @figmentofquinn, @mediocredreams

—

Parked on the crowded street a block away from Chrissy Cunningham’s massive Loch Nora home, Eddie sat fidgeting with his hands in his lap. The van was idled. He made no attempts to unbuckle himself, so you turned in your seat to assess him.

Down the road, the yard was full of teenagers, the party seemingly having spilled over from the house to the entire property. Eddie was observing the attendants with a narrowed gaze, almost suspiciously.

You were starting to feel bad for dragging him along.

“Eddie, you don’t have to come in. I’ll just go say hi to Chrissy, and then we can go do something else, if you want,” you suggested, voice soft.

He very much wanted that.

But he knew you were hoping to spend some time around your best friend, and with how often you babysat for Olly nowadays, Eddie assumed you hadn’t had much availability for a social life lately.

He didn’t want to be the reason you missed an opportunity to have fun.

He briefly thought of telling you he was just going to head back to the trailer and for you to enjoy your time at the party, but you’d invited him, and you’d seemed so ecstatic when he’d agreed.

And truthfully, the idea of ditching you there gave him the same uneasy feelings that going inside the party gave him.

It seemed to be a lose/lose situation.

Tired of battling with himself, Eddie decided he was going to go with the option that allowed him to spend more time with you. Otherwise, he’d have to sulk back to Forest Hills and spend the night overthinking about what you were up to. And who you were talking to.

Eddie wasn’t used to the feeling of possession that curled in his stomach at the thought of other guys trying to get with you.

For a brief moment, he let his doubts swirl freely in his mind, his badgering inner voice reminding him that he was no rich jock with a full ride to an Ivy League and was instead just a drug dealing super, super senior who did nothing for his professional future except dream of one day making it big with his music.

But from the fervid patience you were awaiting his answer with, Eddie had to shake his head clear of self-deprecation, recalling your earlier conversation where you had said you actually liked spending time with him, and had told him you wanted to attend the party with him – not Andy or Patrick or any of Jason Carver’s other rich boy cronies.

Who was he to deny you your wildest, most incomprehensible wishes?

“No, no, let’s go,” Eddie finally said, turning off the van. He shot you a grin, full of false bravado. “Really, I wanna go.” He didn’t, but he was going to fake it ‘till he make’d it.

You returned the grin without hesitation, eyes filling with relief. For a moment there, you’d half expected Eddie to bail on you. And really, you wouldn't have blamed him, considering being put in this social situation was clearly wreaking havoc in his brain.

Eddie clicked the van locked and pocketed the keys as you tried to sweeten the deal for him, wanting to ease as much worry as you could. You didn’t bring him here to stress him out, you brought him here so you could both have a good time, drinking and laughing without the obligation of watching a six-year-old.

“I think Steve might be here,” you offered, knowing the pair had become quite close.

If Eddie were to be honest, hearing Harrington might also be there did make him feel better.

Dustin had introduced them to one another the year prior. While they didn’t mesh at first, essentially polar opposites, the two bonded when they’d both impromptu taken edibles together.

It happened one movie night at Nancy Wheeler’s.

Eddie brought his own brownie stash and had accidentally left them out on the kitchen counter. Steve, thinking Mrs. Wheeler had baked the goods for the get-together, had eaten two before Eddie caught him. He spent the first part of the night talking Steve down out of a panic attack, and then they spent the second part of the night laughing their asses off, laying in Nancy’s pool fully clothed, floating on almost airless rafts.

They’d been friends ever since.

Something else also made Eddie feel better about heading into the party.

You had grabbed his hand in yours at some point as you made your way up the driveway, your warm fingers interlocking with his own.

For the second time that night, you made him feel invincible.

Like nothing could go wrong.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You hadn’t been inside the house two minutes before Chrissy’s voice rang out in the midst of the crowd.

“You made it!” the girl practically yelled, weaving her small frame through the sea of bodies that packed the usually spacious foyer. When she finally made her way to you and Eddie, she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, drunkenly swaying side to side and giggling. When Chrissy pulled away, she looked to your side, spotting your companion. “And Eddie! Hi, Eddie!”

Eddie couldn’t help but crack a smile at the bubbly blonde’s welcome. She, like you, had been a rarity at Hawkins High School.

Whereas most of the popular students had either avidly avoided the likes of Eddie or chose to interact with him solely to make his life a living hell, you and Chrissy never negatively singled anyone out. Instead, the two of you would do things like volunteer to be partners with the quietest kids in class for a project, or you’d both sit with new students during lunch until they found their own cliques.

Eddie never understood why either of you willingly chose to spend your free time with the likes of Jason and the rest of the Hawkins sports roster. He chalked it up to you both just playing your predestined roles. Once you fit a certain mold or stereotype in Hawkins, it was pretty hard to branch out from it. Eddie of all people could understand that.

“Hey, Chris,” he greeted, happy she didn’t go to hug him as well. The last thing Eddie needed was Carver thinking he was making moves on his girlfriend.

Actually, the quicker he got away from her, the better. He liked Chrissy, he truly did, but wherever she was, her loverboy was soon to follow, and Eddie didn’t feel like being instigated into a fight right now.

His eyes flitted around the expanse of the house, eventually spotting Steve by the sliding glass back door, standing with Nancy and Jonathan.

Your gaze followed Eddie’s. You hadn’t been totally sure Steve would be there, so you inwardly thanked the universe for small miracles. Now that Eddie could relax in like-minded company, you didn’t feel so bad parting ways with him for a little while. Of course, you wouldn’t have minded if Eddie tagged along by your side the whole night, but you knew he’d dread every minute of having to be around Jason and his buddies, who unfortunately came with the Chrissy package.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” you lightly nudged Eddie’s shoulder with yours, smiling up at him. “I’ll come find you in a little bit.”

Eddie’s chocolate hues dropped to you, a grateful expression on his face at your suggestion. “Don’t leave me hangin’ for too long, sweetheart,” he teased, although he really wasn’t joking at all. “I dunno how long I’ll last around all these big, scary basketball players without my Princess to protect me.” After a dramatic bow, Eddie vanished into the crowd.

Chrissy, beyond inebriated, hadn’t paid much attention to the exchange. With Eddie gone, she pulled on your arm, tugging you away, slurring, “C’mon! Y’have so many shots to drink t’catch up with me!”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You really had not planned on getting drunk.

Tipsy, yeah, sure. A few beers, maybe a shot or two of some expensive spirit Mrs. Cunningham had imported from Europe.

But glassy-eyed and giggly, your skin flushed warm, an alcohol-induced pink blush sprouted over the apples of your cheeks?

No, that was not in tonight’s itinerary.

But Chrissy knew you’d been slaving away with work the past few months, hardly finding time in your busy schedule to come see your best friend cheer or link up and spend too much money at Starcourt Mall like you both used to.

You, although the same age as Chrissy, had gotten your diploma a year early, and hadn’t stopped working toward your goal of getting the hell out of Hawkins from the moment you walked across the stage at graduation. At job after job, you would often work overtime and weekends, trying to save up as much as you could.

It was admirable, but there had to be balance, something you were never good at finding on your own.

Damn Chrissy Cunningham for being so persuasive and persistent, wanting her best friend to let loose again and join her on a drunken tirade, similar to those you’d indulged in throughout your time together in high school.

Chrissy had begrudgingly disappeared several minutes earlier after Jason had swept her away. She didn’t want to leave you yet, wanted to spend as much time with you as she could, but she didn’t want to disappoint Jason either. You could see the struggle in her eyes, so you made the decision for her, promising you’d catch up more later in the week.

Plus, while you loved your best friend dearly, right now you felt a drumming deep within you – a desperate sensation. The tequila you’d downed urged you to find Eddie. You wanted to curl up into his side and breathe him in, wanted the aroma of his strawberry blunt wraps and tea-tree mint shampoo to fill your senses.

The party had dwindled down some, but there was still an impressive amount of people stationed all over the house, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where your long-haired target was hiding out. There was no double vision yet, but you blinked a few times and took a breath to stabilize yourself anyway, not wanting to stumble drunkenly as you walked.

You’d made it as far as the kitchen when two arms branched out around either side of you, a letterman jacket coming into view as your lower back was pressed against the marble of the island counter. A tall male with dark hair and dark eyes smirked down at you, a predator satisfied he’d cornered his prey.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi, Chance,” you answered, not appreciating the personal space he was impeding on. You attempted to move out of his barrier, but he just repositioned his weight, keeping you caged in between his arms.

His breath was hot on your cheek, the smell of beer wafting from him strongly. Everything about him was making your stomach turn. “What’re you doin’ all by yourself?” he asked. “Heard you came with Munson,” pause for a scoff, “but I knew that must’ve been a fucking joke.”

“Why would that be a joke?” you countered, brows furrowed. “I did come here with him.” You moved your gaze from the annoying presence in front of you to scan the room, trying again to find Eddie. “Actually, d’you know where he is?”

“Oh yeah, saw him drawing a pentagram on the sidewalk out front. Think it was in virgin’s blood. He was speaking some other language, too.”

You rolled your eyes, your patience running very thin. You were so sick of people making assumptions and passing judgments just because someone else was different than they were.

You had half a mind to make a snide remark about how the whole town knew Chance Deely’s mom had an affair on his dad with the pastor from the Presbyterian church, and did that mean she must have been worshiping demons too since she did something so immoral and uncouth?

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, trying again to duck away from his arms.

You took in a sharp breath when you felt Chance’s hand move to grip your waist, pulling your body to his.

“Come on, babe,” he said, the pads of his fingers digging uncomfortably into your clothed skin. “Lemme take you home. I know your daddy likes me. I’m sure I can convince him to let me stay the night…”

What a clueless moron. He didn’t even know you hadn’t lived with your parents for the past year now. But you’d let him keep thinking that, finding solace in the fact that he didn’t know where to find you if the creep ever decided to try and stalk you out one night.

“And do what?” you asked, now emboldened both by your intoxication and the nerve this idiot had cornering you like this. “Have a sleepover with him? I don’t want you, Chance.”

His jaw ticked, his features hardening, undoubtedly in an attempt to make you feel small and scared. You felt neither.

“Get off of me, Deely. I mean it.”

“Or what, huh? You gonna sic your vampire boyfriend on me?”

“No, I’ll fucking bite you myself.”

His eyes flashed and his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip as he considered you, humming in approval.

“Yeah, I’d like to get that mouth on me…”

You rolled her eyes again, so hard this time you wondered if they’d stick. “In your wet dreams, douchebag. Now get. Off.” You tried prying yourself away from him once more, swatting at the hand he had on your waist.

It just made Chance double down, pressing his center against you crudely. “I’m trying to get off, baby,” he said, giving a disgusting pout. “You won’t let me.”

“Do you not know what ‘no’ means, Deely?” a familiar voice interjected from behind Chance.

Your heart swelled as you raised your gaze to find Eddie’s dark eyes glaring daggers at the boy who’d had you cornered. You smiled wide at him, an odd juxtaposition when mixed with Eddie’s beyond irritated expression and Chance’s feeble attempts at seduction (which were more harassments than anything else).

You were so relieved to have this Bambi-eyed boy come to your rescue.

“What I do know is that nobody asked you, Munson,” Chance countered. He still kept his body turned towards yours, much to your dismay. “Why don’t you go and fuck a corpse or something, freak? Leave me –”

But his words were cut off when you brought your knee up to budge as hard as you could in between his legs.

Chance whined loudly, falling to the ground, clutching his hopefully bruised balls in his hands.

The partygoers had been distracted with their own conversations up until that point, but with Chance Deely crying out on the floor, writhing around pathetically, everyone’s attention was on you and Eddie.

“The fuck’s going on in here?” came Jason Carver’s voice over the other loud mumblings in the crowd.

“That's our cue to leave, Princess,” Eddie alerted, grasping your wrist in his hand as he pulled you from the Cunningham residence with haste.

You tossed your head back and laughed, hurriedly following Eddie out.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

The ride from Chrissy’s place to yours wasn’t long at all. Five minutes, tops.

While Eddie was focused on the road ahead of him, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel at the thought of Chance Deely’s roaming hands, you were staring intently at your getaway driver.

You watched as his jaw clenched and relaxed, then clenched and relaxed again. He wasn’t doing anything special, just sitting there stewing in inner turmoil, but he was still so, so handsome. Handsome and heroic.

Although you were the one to administer the knee to Chance’s most prized possessions, you knew Eddie wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same and maybe even more to defend you. You thought back to the hateful look in his eyes as he stared the back of Chance’s head down, fists ready to make contact with the stupid fuck’s face if need be.

Eddie’s eagerness to be of service to you, for you, turned you on more than you thought it would. The fuzzy feelings from the alcohol helped loosen your inhibitions, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together for some sort of friction as Eddie pulled up in front of your apartment.

You watched as he took a deep breath in, eyes shutting momentarily before exhaling and turning his attention to you.

He softened his face, forcing his mouth to curve into a smile. Underneath it all, you could tell he was still buzzing with anger and adrenaline.

“Would you please walk me inside?” you asked, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. You were trying to appear inconspicuous. “They might know where I live. I’d feel safer if you came up with me.”

‘They’ meant Jason and his friends.

It maybe was a bit of overkill on your part to pull the damsel in distress card. You weren’t afraid of Carver or Deely. For the most part, they were all talk.

It also helped your sense of security that your neighbor across the hall was a police officer, something which Jason was aware of. He’d almost gotten arrested for banging on your door at one in the morning to try to get to Chrissy after the couple had one of their explosive arguments.

Chrissy had found refuge at your apartment a handful of times over the past year, leading Jason to look your address up so he always knew where to find his girlfriend when she ran off.

Each time he came pounding, Officer Hammond would swing open his door and dangle a pair of cuffs in Jason’s direction. It had the blonde boy scurrying away, the fear of an arrest that would hurt his chances at a basketball scholarship dominating his caveman impulse to steal Chrissy away.

Technically, you weren’t lying to Eddie. Although you weren’t scared of Carver and his friends, you would feel safer with Eddie around. Just because.

And fortunately for you, Eddie would never pass up the chance to play protector, especially when it was you who was asking him so nicely.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

“I can’t believe you kneed him in the nuts, that was fucking hilarious,” Eddie laughed, following you up the stairs to your third-floor apartment.

“I should have twisted them off, but then I would’ve had to touch him.” As an afterthought, you added, “Which, gross.”

“So gross,” Eddie agreed.

Stepping inside your apartment, you immediately kicked off your shoes. Eddie’s eyes dropped to the ground, following your movements, and he noted that you were wearing those cute white ankle socks with the pretty lace ruffle at the top. Those were the kind he remembered you wearing all the time at school, complete with your green, white, and yellow cheer outfit.

The memory of you in that uniform, bouncing up at down at one of the school rallies, had Eddie trying to secretly adjust himself in his jeans.

He he hung back in the doorway, ready to leave.

Eddie’d noticed the rousing stare you’d been giving him in the van. It was a look he’d often shot your way, when he was sure you weren’t paying attention. Full of want and yearning. He hadn’t missed the sight of your thighs pressing together either.

But you’d been drinking. That probably explained away the actions. You just weren’t thinking straight.

Eddie didn’t want to overstep or take advantage, so his plan was to be a gentleman and escort you up, then head back to his van and jerk off to the thought of you begging him to touch you.

You had other ideas.

You reached your hand out and bunched your fingers into his black Iron Maiden band tee, trying to tug him toward you. It wasn’t enough to physically move him, but enough so that he’d get the gist of what you wanted.

“What’re you still doing out there?” you asked, tilting your head down to look up at him through your lashes. Your expression was coy. “You can come inside, Eddie.”

A double entendre if he’d ever heard one. He had to force back a groan as his imagination went wild.

“I shouldn’t,” he tried, hand moving down to grasp yours in an attempt to loosen your grip. Eddie didn’t really want you to let go, though. He wished you’d grab him harder, not give him a choice, pull him inside and have your way with him. Gentleman, gentleman, gentleman, he had to remind himself in his head. “I was just making sure you got up here safe. I should, uh, probably get going… it’s kinda late…”

The pretty pout you shot at him further loosened his resolve to leave, and he felt glued to the spot in your entranceway. “I’m a big girl, Eddie, I don’t have a bedtime. You don’t wanna hang out more?” you asked, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. “Y’know, I wasn’t serious about being afraid of Jason and his boyfriends… it was just a big ploy to get you to come up here with me.” You bit at your lip in an effort to hide a grin, trying to keep the innocent facade playing on your face. “Thought maybe I could show you where I live, since I’m always at yours… and I just rented the new Texas Chainsaw movie. Haven’t watched it yet.”

Eddie found it was getting increasingly harder to say no to you, with your hands on him, pulling him gently toward you. Each word you spoke sounded like it was being sung by a siren.

A movie seemed… safe.

His eyes drifted past you to your living room, where he assumed you’d want to watch it. He was satisfied with the size of the couch. He’d be able to put enough space between the two of you to keep it friendly, because that’s probably what you really wanted, just to be friendly, but the buzz you were still feeling maybe had you thinking you wanted to be a little more than just friendly.

In the morning, Eddie figured you’d probably regret anything you may have ended up trying to do. He promised himself he wouldn’t let you get that far. He figured he’d be able to limit any physical contact by positioning himself at whatever far end of the couch you weren’t on.

He really, really did want to be around you. He just couldn’t for the life of him believe or understand why you were saying you wanted the same thing. Must’ve been the booze.

But he could take advantage of this moment, couldn’t he? Without taking advantage of you? He would just make sure things stayed PG.

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess,” he conceded, giving in and walking inside. He clicked the door shut behind him, happy to have your hand still clinging needy to his shirt. “I can’t say no to a pretty girl who wants to watch Tobe Hooper with me. There’s just one thing that’d make this night even better…”

You rose an inquisitive brow at him. You could think of many, many things that would make this night better, and they all ended with you so fucked out that you couldn’t remember your name and could only remember Eddie’s.

Maybe he was about to finally give you both what you wanted – or, well, what you wanted, and what you had only hoped Eddie wanted, too.

You leaned closer to him, waiting for his suggestion.

“Got any popcorn?”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You’d been on the couch with Texas Chainsaw Massacre playing in the background for the past half hour.

While you had ulterior motives and didn’t plan on strictly watching the entire time, Eddie was acting as if this was the greatest movie to have ever been written, his wide eyes almost unblinking as he focused on nothing but the television.

And even though he was also seated on the couch, he still seemed far away, having chosen to sit at the end furthest from you.

You didn’t want to encroach on his personal space, fearful maybe you’d been reading every sign you’d ever thought he’d given you wrong and he in fact wasn’t interested. Had you known for certain he wanted you like you wanted him, you would have been in his lap the second he sat down.

You had to play it a little safer first. Test the waters.

This is how your socked foot ended up in Eddie’s lap.

Totally safe.

The empty bowl of popcorn, which had been resting on one of Eddie’s knees, clattered to the floor when he felt your heel weighed down on his thigh.

Eddie had been forcing his attention to stay focused on the movie, not daring to drift his eyesight to you sprawled out beside him, your tight sundress so far up your legs he knew he’d be able to see your panties if he looked.

His gaze finally shot over to you when you’d made the contact, but you were now the one pretending to be engrossed in the gory horror movie. Eddie could have sworn he saw an uptick in the corner of your mouth when the bowl clattered to the ground, but it was dark and he couldn’t be sure.

Swallowing hard, his eyes dropped down to his lap, watching as your foot flexed and relaxed repeatedly.

The crotch of his jeans felt tight, his heartbeat picking up pace at the thought of you possibly feeling how hard he was growing right now. If you’d just move your foot over one or two more inches, he’d feel the solid warmth of you where he wanted to feel you the most.

How would you react? Would you freak out? You wouldn’t, right? You were playing footsies with his fucking lap, for Christ’s sake. This wasn’t innocent, was it? It couldn’t have been.

“You don’t mind, right?” you asked him, attention still on the TV, forcing nonchalance into your tone. “Feels good to stretch like this. And you’re so warm.”

He was about to respond, was about to say he didn’t mind, not at all; fuck, he’d be anything for you — a footrest, a heater, a guard dog, a servant, a total fucking fool. But when your foot finally met with the bulge forming under his denim, Eddie inhaled harshly, a hand coming up to wrap around your ankle, stopping you.

When he turned to look at you this time, you were staring right back at him.

You were propped up on your elbows now and he could feel you trying to wiggle your foot free.

“Let me, Eddie,” you urged. “Please.”

His grip faltered on your ankle at your pleading, and you took the chance to weasel it out of his hand. You wasted no time tracing the thick outline of him over his jeans with the ball of your foot, the bite of the zipper pressing into his sensitive length causing him to hiss.

You brought your other foot up to join in, using your toes to curl around the girth of him, kneading back and forth.

Those fucking socks, fuck. Eddie already had his fair share of dirty fantasies of you in your cheer uniform – the whole ensemble, head to toe – and he knew he’d now never be able to look at a pair of lacy frilled socks normally ever again.

Eddie groaned, his head falling back against the couch. His eyes fluttered shut but only momentarily before they found you again. You didn’t bother containing your wide grin, your teeth sunk into the softness at the center of your bottom lip.

“Put your hands on them, pet,” he gave another groan at the nickname, “so you can make yourself feel good.”

Eddie’s brain was clouded with desire, and he could feel his face warming at your request.

“I don’t – I mean, um… you’re drunk…” he was stumbling over his words because your feet wouldn’t stop, rubbing and pressing in all the right places.

Your head dipped back with a little laugh. “Not really,” you lied. You were definitely still feeling the effects of a forgotten number of mixed drinks, but that didn’t change the fact that you’d been hoping this was where the night would lead five hours ago. Or even five months ago. Very pre-drunkenness. “And even if I was…” you trailed off momentarily, giving your heel another ground down against his lap. “Was I drunk when I held your hand at the party? Or when I told you earlier how much I liked being around you?”

Eddie thought for a moment before shaking his head. No, you weren’t. Holy shit, so he had read all your signs right. You were interested in him. He wasn’t just imagining all of it.

Okay, fuck. He could work with that. He probably shouldn’t, probably should have stuck to his guns and told you to wait until tomorrow when you were for sure sobered up.

But Eddie was typically an act now, deal with it later type of guy. And right now, he was finding it very hard to be any different.

He’d never done anything like this before, had never even gotten much further than just making out, but Eddie didn’t let his self-doubt rule at the forefront of his mind for once.

Not tonight.

Not with your feet in his lap and your voice telling him the dirty things you wanted him to do. Not when his upstairs brain was closing up shop, tossing the keys to his confined cock.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” he said, hands finding your ankles again. He didn’t halt their movements this time. Now he encouraged them to move, slowly beginning to rock his hips up into the soles of your feet.

With that admission, you realized you weren’t just projecting your own desires when you’d catch him staring at you through the kitchen window while you played with Olly out front; when he’d put his hands on your waist as he passed by you in the trailer’s cramped hallway; when he’d lick his lips and watch your own as you talked to him about some minor detail from your day.

Eddie wanted you, too.

And with how fucking hard he was, you realized he wanted you bad.

Your head lolled to one side as you observed him. “I wanna watch you use me ‘till you’re about to come.” The TV wasn’t too far away, and with the relatively bright scene on the screen at the moment, you could tell he was hanging off of your every word. You could feel him tightening his grip around the width of your feet, pulling them down harder against him. “If you’re a good boy and stop before you get all messy, then maybe I’ll let you make me feel good, too.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed in equal parts desire and disbelief at your words, his parted lips forming the shape of an ‘O’. It was all he could do to nod wordlessly, feeling dumb in the best kind of way, his eyes not wavering from yours once as he got to work.

[etheries1015]

Sorry, I overread it (It's currently 10pm where I live, I've been up since 4am, and my anxiety is kicking. Requesting things from people I never requested before is hard >.<)

May I request Riddle, Kalim, Idia and Malleus reacting to finding out their crush is trans-masc? Either by reader telling them or them finding out by accident

Never apologize for asking questions and sending asks! Please take care of yourself, get lots of rest, water, and sustenance <3

Finding out you're trans-masc

Featuring: Riddle, Kalim, Idia, Malleus

WARNINGS (please read): I'm a cis woman and I CANNOT stress enough that I may not be able to portray this as well as someone who actually identifies as such! I did do research ahead of time to make sure I try my very best to capture the essence of someone who identifies as trans-masc, but everyone's experiences are different. If I, in ANY way shape, or form, used incorrect terminology/representation or mistakenly offended anyone, please educate me so that I become more knowledgeable and can build my understanding. Other than that, I hope I did well in writing this for you to enjoy <3 Thank you for your time and for the request <3

Riddle

The topic came up during the first time you had gone to an Unbirthday party. Being misgendered by Riddle, you spoke up gently to inform him of your disposition.

"I'm...well, I don't use She/her pronouns." You shrugged. Riddle pursed his lips in frustration at his own confusion, he hadn't met someone falling under the LGBTQ umbrella before, he was incredibly sheltered and closed-minded for a long time due to his mother's teachings.

"I see..." Riddle nodded, "Then, please explain it to me so that I may not make the same mistake twice." He was eager to learn more about people and their experiences, especially learning about someone he found himself becoming more and more attached to.

Spends an entire night reading upon such topics- he was very quick to adapt and correct people around you whenever he found they did not address you properly.

"Does it bother you?" You had asked him once out of pure curiosity, and his response was with furrowed eyebrows and confusion.

"And why should it? It does not matter what you identify as. You are still (y/n). You are not your gender, and not your sex. You are..." He blushed deeply, you smiling to urge him on. You knew about his crush on you, of course, yet he seemed to be far too shy to admit it yet.

"You're..." He hesitated, "failing this class. G-get back to studying! quit getting distracted with silly questions or it's off with your head!"

You loved seeing him open his mind to many different concepts and treat you no differently than anyone else (minus some favoritism, hehe <3)

Kalim

It was actually Jamil who brought it up in conversation. The topic of "LGBTQ" came up, of course, Kalim understood the basics of people who identified as gay, however when the term "trans-masc" came up in regards to you, he was incredibly eager to learn more.

"Trans-masc? I thought they were (y/n)?"

"Kalim- no-"

It didn't take long for him to easily come around to the new terminology. You maybe gave him a 10 minute crash course before he accepted it face value.

"I see...so one day you're going to be by my side not as a queen, but as my royal spouse!" You were flabbergasted at his brazen comment. With a red face, you hadn't time to react before his hands were already around you in a deep hug.

"Haha! Oh, right! The pop club has a new song, wanna listen to it?"

He loves you no matter what. The most understanding and unconditionally in love person to exist, the definition of sunshine

Might overshare sometimes. He will bring it up sometimes to other people (if they misgender you) and give THEM a crash course on it! You love that he is so passionate about you, though. xoxo

Idia

He knew. He is chronically online, he knows all about it. When he first met you, he even asked what your preferred pronouns were.

I don't really know what else to say for Idia, he honestly doesn't care who you identify as. You play video games with him and give him love, that's enough for him!!

Can take it incredibly seriously If someone misgenders you or tries to bully you about your identity, his hair turns a fiery red and he turns gives them a whole one hour lesson while belittling that person calling them as intelligent as a soggy piece of bread.

The other person is crying by the end of it, but honestly nobody deserves to be treated disrespectfully like that.

actually how he confessed his crush to you, lol. In a fit of rage to someone who wasn't being very kind... "How dare you treat the one I love like that, you stupid normie piece of-" Realizes his mistake, face turns red, turns to you (whos face is also red)

"ummm.....Nevermind!" He runs away, but there was no getting away from you heuheu

even though he can be shy and kind of tsundere in public, he can be really passionate and will defend you at a moments notice and educate other people who are, as he puts, less than him.

In private? Sitting in his lap playing video games

Malleus

Actually, learned this from Idia. It was during class when the topic of LGBTQ came up, and when speaking among the students he over heard Idia telling ortho about your disposition as trans-masc.

Immediately came to you

"Child of man, what is 'trans-masc' and why did Idia use this term to describe you? Could you elaborate?" You two decided to take a stroll around the forest where you spent hours talking about all sorts of different people and the terms they used, explaining to him about dysphoria and how you discovered that the pronouns you were born with just didn't sit right with you.

Nods in understanding, but ends up purchasing a bunch of books Idia and Lilia recommended to him to increase his understanding.

Even though there are indeed things he will never be able to sympathize with properly and understand, such as the effects of dysphoria, but he will respect you full heartedly and not treat you any different despite still growing to learn about such topics.

All in all, it does not matter what you identify as. He finds himself completely enamored with you, loving how you teach him new things about anything and everything with humans- he will treat you the same as you treat him- impartial due to status, class, gender, pronouns, human or fae. He knew you were the one he wanted to rule Briar Valley next to one day- as his lovely spouse.

~~

I hope I was able to answer your request satisfyingly <3 Please let me know if anything needs to be changed and I shall update accordingly, I myself am always learning and growing every day! Please be kind <3

[curlyangelsblog]

✿ Yandere!Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader ✿

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

( Hello ! I wanna start a new Yandere series and here is a little sneak preview of it ;) please if you want tell me what you think so far and tell me what you wanna see in it and please leave request for more series and shorts I’d appreciate. I wanna be more Active on here and find mutuals. Hope you all have nice holidays. <3)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

„Aww come on ten ten don’t be such a sore loser“ you giggled into his headphones.

„yeah whatever“ was all he mumbled back with a blush on his cheeks which you couldn’t see. You and Tomura, or Tenko as he introduced himself to you, have been gaming together for 2-3 months now. You guys met in some sort of chat room and have been hitting it off ever since. You not only game together but also talk on the phone for hours on end about Friends and Family , personal stuff and obviously gaming. Well you more then him. He love listening to you ramble. Your cute voice and addicting laugh.

„It’s getting kind of late ten ten (you’re the only person that gets to call him that) I have work early in the morning but it was nice talking to you“ you giggled. It really was you always felt like he was the only person that understood you. And he felt the same maybe even more but he wasn’t ready to admit that.

„Sleep well ten ten !“

„You too“

Was all he said and that was enough for you. You always knew what he was intending on saying and what he meant.

—————— next day—————————————————

From [y/n] : Hey Tenko you ready to play r/g (random Game) again ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა♡ ?

To [y/n] : sure

You were actually really good also a reason why he liked playing with you besides your cute voice. It was getting kind of frustrating that you were so good. Not to mention you were enjoying yourself quit a bit and making little remarks about how bad he was.

„Ok now your not THAT good“ he said

„I only won four times in a row didn’t I“ you said cheekily.

„Yeah yeah whatever“

„Well maybe you can learn a couple of things from me if you would watch me play“

What did you mean watch you play. Did you stream ? You guys have been talking about all lot of stuff but jobs and other hobbies have never really been topic. You did send him pictures before so he kinda knew what you looked like. You were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. But all he said that he didn’t need to watch you.

„Here is the link to my channel if you ever change your mind“

Tomura could feel how his heart sped up and a blush was creeping on his skin. He had to suppress the urge to click on the link and watch you stream. He had recordings of your voice which he listens to every night and the pictures you send him which he looked at when he felt down or when he did other things… But it wasn’t his fault that he got hard looking at you. You were just so beautiful to him.

„Buuut let’s finish this round I’m getting kind of tired ten ten“

„This time I’m gonna beat ya“ he said chuckling. The excitement and the images of you streaming shot right to his member. He wondered if you were one of those who wore slutty clothes and took money from old men. He was gritting his teeth trying not to make a sound. It excited him being able to see you more often it wasn’t enough to just see your pictures anymore he needed more. He won the round and he let out an excited “yes!” Which made him blush a little bit he was still a little awkward about showing so much emotions. You like it tho it was cute the way he got excited. You grumbled in response to loosing against.

“Well I can’t lie that was pretty good ten ten”

You guys logged off for the night. And as soon as the call ended Tomura clicked on the link as fast as possible. The link led him to your stream account it was as he imagined all pastel and pinky it was so you . The brightness stung in his eyes but he was too eager to look away. You were at almost 350k follows how has he never seen you. Well looking through you content you did play games you two liked to play but the majority of you content was games he wasn’t too familiar with. He clicked on one of your videos. The latest one of your streams. You greeted you viewers with a little wave and that cute smile of yours. He couldn’t look away. He had to have you…

[alxtiny]

An Art Gallery could never be as unique as you | Kang Yeosang x Reader

Synopsis: where yeosang finds a masterpiece in an art gallery

Pairing: kang yeosang x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities

Notes: hi :) hehe

masterlist

Yeosang took a deep breath as he stepped into the art gallery, his steps carrying him through the serene atmosphere of creativity. The soft hum of murmured conversations and the occasional click of a camera shutter filled the air, but it was a comforting background noise to him, far removed from the usual chaos of his life as an idol.

He had been waiting for a while for this particular expo to open. He had come across it while looking for something new to add to the empty walls in his room. What fascinated him was the way each piece had been described on their website, as if it were a conversation or a story.

Dressed in minimalistic clothing, a bucket hat pulled low over his eyes and a mask securely covering his face, he hoped to blend in with the crowd and avoid any encounters with fans. Don’t get him wrong he loved his fans but sometimes it could get a bit too much, especially when he didn’t have the others to help him. Today was meant to be his quiet day, he took this as chance to indulge in something he wouldn’t generally look for.

As he wandered through the gallery, his eyes flitted over the carefully arranged paintings and sculptures, each having its own story, which he would read about in the complimentary catalogues. Walking deeper into the vivid space his eyes were drawn to one particular painting, tucked away in a corner. It stood out amongst the others, its presence demanding attention even from a distance. As if it called out to him, Yeosang made his way towards it, his curiosity piqued.

It was different from the others. Unlike the others from a distance it looked devoid of colour. The painting was that of a face, whose expression was mostly obscured, hidden behind a veil of distorted lines and smudges. Yet, despite the chaos surrounding them, there was a hint of emotion beneath the surface – something that wasn’t so easy to decipher. There was a slightly unsettling way the face in the painting smiled, it looked almost like it was mocking the viewer.

And then there was the heart-shaped mark at the corner of the lips, furious red against the monochrome backdrop. It was a small detail, but to Yeosang it felt eerily familiar.

Yeosang found himself captivated by the artwork, his gaze lingering on the details of the piece. He was drawn to it but couldn’t understand why. He flipped through the catalogue, eager to learn more about the artist's intentions but discovered not much explaining the thought process behind it. He wondered what story the painting wished to tell.

Lost in thought, Yeosang stalled in front of the painting, the rest of the world fading away, until a voice broke him out of his reverie, “Do you like it that much? You’ve been staring for quite a while.”

Yeosang blinked in surprise as you approached him, your question bringing back the chatter in the background. He turned to face you, ready to defend the artist and justify his lingering. As he looked at your face, he felt a shiver go up his spine. To him the painting had come to life, and it was standing beside him.

A soft smile graced your lips, so different from the one in the artwork. As he recovered from the initial shock, Yeosang's gaze shifted from you to the painting and back again, his mind racing to make sense of the connection.

Then, his eyes fell on the birthmark next to your lips, red like smudged lipstick, somewhat in the shape of a heart, the same as his own birthmark next to his left eye. The resemblance freaked him out a little if he was being honest. He pointed at you and then at the painting, silently questioning the similarity.

You laughed gently, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yes, that's me. I painted that piece, actually. It's a self-portrait."

Yeosang's eyes widened in astonishment, a mix of disbelief and wonder washing over him. As the realization sank in, An embarrassed flush crept up his neck. He couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that he had been gawking at a painting of the very person standing near him for god knows how long.

It's quite a rare chance to meet the artist of a painting, that has you allured, out of the blue. This was certainly far from the uneventful day Yeosang had wished for, but since fate wanted its way then who's he to deny it.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, eager to learn more about the reason behind the style you chose for the painting and the emotions that had fueled its creation, Yeosang blurted out, “Why did you make this?”, a look of confusion flashed across your face.

Yeosang, realising how blunt and rude that sounded, immediately covered his mouth and let out a muffled gasp. His eyes widened, knowing that he offended you, until an amused smile made its way to your lips as you nodded at him to continue.

Slowly he moved his hands away, “S-Sorry”, he stuttered “I meant what was the inspiration behind it, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” he continued slowly, his gaze downcast.

“Mhmm, I thought as much. Well there’s a long story behind it but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” you replied.

“No no I asked I want to know,” he said nodding eagerly

“Alright,” you sighed, before flashing a soft smile his way, “but let's not talk here, how about we go to that cafe across the street, I heard it’s really good,”

Yeosang, happy that you agreed to share what seemed like a vulnerable memory with just a stranger like him, quickly agreed, he didn’t understand it yet but he wanted to know everything about you.

Leaving the gallery you walked to the cafe, Yeosang blinked as he saw the familiar café come into view, he came here quite frequently with the guys. “I like it here, its perfect when I’m in need of some inspiration,” you whispered, noticing his reaction.

“I can’t believe we’ve never come across before, I like to come here too, sometimes with company,” he responded shyly.

You chuckled at his bashfulness, as you both walked up to the counter to give your orders, that Yeosang, being a gentleman, sneakily paid for when you were retrieving your wallet, chuckling at your insistence on paying him back.

You took your drinks and headed to one of the farther off tables of the cafe near the windows. You sighed deeply as you settled into the plush chair, deeply inhaling the scent of your bicerin, feeling completely at peace.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you looked up at Yeosang who was watching your actions carefully, his own glass of iced americano sitting untouched, dripping condensation onto the table. He gazed at you expectantly, eyes silently urging you to start speaking. The silence wasn’t awkward or unbearable rather it was comforting, yet you began talking.

“You asked why I made this painting, a valid question…but I don’t think I have a proper answer for it. I guess it was a ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, it’s a rather old piece, from a time when it wasn’t all that great for me. You see this,” you paused, pointing to your birthmark, Yeosang nodded.

“It wasn’t always something I wanted people to see, I usually covered it up somehow, feeling burdened by its presence but later, much later in life I realised it wasn’t something to be so concerned about, it is a part of me and people will talk and talk, so why should i care.”

You went on, Yeosang listened intently, hanging onto your every word. He could feel the overwhelming pain in your voice, the intense emotions behind sharing such a personal experience.

“The painting was a rebellion against those ugly thoughts, I guess around then i stopped covering it up,” you explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“But you are beautiful,” Yeosang suddenly whispered with a frown on his face, “You shouldn’t hide just cause some people said so, they were probably jealous,” a small pout formed on his lips. Your face flushed at his words, a shy smile gracing your lips, “Yeah, so I’ve learned.”

“I have one too, right here,” Yeosang pointed to his left eye, pushing back his hair a little. You noticed the pink smudge, surprised you hadn’t seen it earlier.

“It looks like mine,” you whispered in awe, reaching out to gently trace the discolouration with your fingers. His skin flushes around where your fingertips come in contact.

“I was like you too and I too found people who appreciated me and loved me, we may be similar in that aspect.” Yeosang said with a bitter chuckle. He remembered the time when he himself had experienced moments of self-doubt and insecurity, times when he felt like he wasn't enough. But like you, he had grown and evolved, finding strength in the support of those around him.

Nodding in understanding, you shared a small smile, as comfortable silence fell again. “Thank you for listening to me, Yeosang. I really needed this,” You spoke up with a wide smile.

Yeosang looked up from his coffee, opening his mouth to speak, but he paused, eyes widening in surprise as you mentioned his name. "Wait, how did you know my name?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I know who you are, Yeosang. It's not every day you see an idol wandering around an art gallery in disguise," you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

He blinked, a mix of astonishment and amusement crossing his features. "I guess I'm not as inconspicuous as I thought," he mused, running a hand through his hair sheepishly.

You shrugged, smiling. "It's okay, it's refreshing to see idols enjoying normal things like art exhibits. Plus, it gave me the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with you," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

Yeosang couldn't help but laugh at your candidness. "Well, I'm glad you did. This has turned out to be a much more interesting day than I anticipated," he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips.

The two of you continued to chat, your conversation meandering from art to music to random anecdotes about your lives. Despite the initial awkwardness, Yeosang found himself enjoying your company immensely. There was something about your easygoing nature and genuine warmth that put him at ease.

As the afternoon wore on and the cafe began to empty out, you glanced at the time and let out a small gasp. "Wow, I didn't realize how late it's gotten. I should probably start heading home," you said, gathering your things.

As you both gathered your things and prepared to leave the cafe, Yeosang felt a rush of nervousness tingling in his chest. He shifted on his feet, feeling the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Um, hey," he begins, his voice a little shaky. "I was thinking... would you maybe want to go out on an official date sometime? I'd really like to get to know you more."

He looks up at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment but his eyes earnest and hopeful. He can't help but feel a surge of vulnerability, unsure of how you'll respond to his daring question.

You pause, a smile playing on your lips as you meet his gaze. "You know what, I would really love that," you reply, your voice warm and sincere. "I've had a great time getting to know you today, and I'd definitely like to spend more time with you."

Relief floods over Yeosang, the tension in his body easing away and a wide grin spreading across his face. "Really? That's great!" he exclaims hands clasping together, unable to contain his excitement. "I'll make sure to plan something really special for us."

You nod and laugh, returning his smile. "I look forward to it," you say, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your stomach at the thought of your upcoming date.

With plans made, numbers exchanged and hearts aflutter, the two of you bid each other farewell, already counting down the days until your next meeting. And as Yeosang walks home, a spark of excitement fills his chest, he feels a rush in his head, knowing that he's found someone special to share his time with.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

Send an ask or a message to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist:

[ipostdumbthings]

Romantic Headcanons for Sorcerer Reader with BG3 Companions

Astarion

Well of course he attempts to seduce you, magic is so deep inside you, there’s no telling the scope of things you could be capable of, especially when directed towards his own interests. Expect him to initially try to manipulate in the early stages, and he may get a little frustrated if you don’t fall for it. It’s not personal, of course, he has to insure his own safety. In some ways, it’s a compliment. You’re useful.

The thing that strikes him first about you, is watching you cast your magic. The effortless way it flows from you is like poetry in motion, and he’s nothing if not a man that can appreciate beauty in its various forms.

He’s a bit hesitant in confiding in you, you’re a person of considerable power, and that’s a concern for him. He doesn’t want to find himself again at the whims of a powerful person, so it’s extremely important you treat him as an equal and show that you have deep respect for his abilities.

When you do, he finds himself more comfortable than he expected in confiding in you. Afterall, you can actually help him, you can protect him if the need arises. Something he’s just so eager to return the favor on.

Shadowheart

While she respects your privacy if you don’t wish to discuss it, Shadowheart can’t help but be curious about you. Where does your magic come from? It’s an interesting mystery, that she’ll have fun hypothesizing on her own if you don’t or can’t supply her with answers. It’s more a fun thing for her to think about as opposed to something she’s determined to get to the bottom of, but the idea of being impacted by some magical being through ancestry, happenstance, or mishap deeply resonates with her.

That makes conversations with her frequent and pleasant. You’ll find yourselves initially scratching the surface on such matters, fun little chats about that and the members of the group. She enjoys these moments quite a bit, and it won’t take long before you’re having much deeper conversations.

Because you aren’t necessarily attached to a deity, she finds it a lot easier to talk about her faith with you than she may be with others. You’ll be able to learn her deep held philosophies and personal beliefs, and your status as an outsider means you might have the unbiased insight that may help reaffirm and challenge them.

She’s very fond of your magic, and the way you cast it, she swears that it feels differently when you do it. 

Gale

If you’re the sort of sorcerer that looks at Wizards with reverence and respect, you’ll find that you and Gale buddy up almost immediately. In fact it becomes a bit of a running joke amongst the group (mostly from Astarion) that the two of you have formed a club for magic nerds.

Oh how dear you become to him quickly, the bond is soft and affectionate, a meeting of two like-minds and equals. He has the utmost respect for your talents and has complete trust in your abilities. 

You may even become a source of inspiration for him in the form of pushing his magic or even his poetry. Your relationship is forged first on that mutual respect and adoration, it is deep and emotionally passionate.

If you’re the other sort of Sorcerer, however, the sort that likes to be snarky/smug/condescending towards Wizards, you’ll find that energy met in kind by Gale. It’ll start out sincere too, a genuinely discontentment for your dismissal of his talents. Make no mistake, he’ll serve the snark and condescension back, and he’s an expert in both.

But when you prove you're devoted to the cause, and that you’re capable and willing to help your teammates, that dynamic will start to move from mildly antagonistic to genuinely playful. Which ignites a connection of a different sort. The sexual tension is palpable.

It doesn’t mean he’s going to act on it any faster, but no one can miss the chemistry between the two of you. The emotional connection will deepen as you two navigate that dynamic, because he won’t pursue anything with anyone that he only has a physical connection with. 

Lae’zel

Lae’zel is very quickly enamored with you. You naturally have skills that people spend decades honing, and you wield them with the same precision and accuracy that she wields her blade. That’s no small feat. It makes you a most attractive candidate for a partner.

You can expect her to approach you quite often for sex, she’ll take any excuse to wear you out. Especially after you do something particularly impressive.

It surprises her how much she finds herself liking your charm and charisma. The way you can guide conversations or have the force of will required to navigate any situation is what makes her start thinking of you as more than partner in sex. That doesn’t mean she wants you to try putting those moves on her by any stretch of the imagination, but she has to admit it’s impressive to witness you do it to others.

You’re one of the few humans who’s lead she will gladly follow. She respects you, and in an interesting turn of events she didn’t expect, she trusts you. You might even manage to get her to start having some deep conversations with her much sooner than most do.

Wyll

In some ways Wyll envies you, and he’ll admit to as much in his charming way. It’s hard not to wonder what his life would’ve looked like had he been born into magic instead of the path he took to it. He doesn’t say it to make you feel bad for him, but merely to express how much he respects your capabilities.

You’ll find him responsive and sensitive when you confide in him the struggles being a sorcerer can provide. He doesn’t assume your life has been easier than his, and he’s empathetic and compassionate to your history.

Respect between the two of you is like second nature, you have a sense of mutuality that many other relationships may struggle with. It’s a genuine connection between two people on equal footing, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

He does romanticize the story you share together, but it’s not cheesy or whitewashed. It reflects the genuine and grand feelings he has for you, the sense of beauty in the world you spark for him. 

Karlach

Karlach isn’t as impressed by your magic as some of the others are, don’t get her wrong, it’s really nifty you can do that stuff, but Karlach is much more moved by actions and content of character rather than fancy things like who can cast the shiniest spell. There are a few exceptions to this, of course.

She does simply adore it when you cast the fun spells though. The first time you decide to host a little light show in camp, she is absolutely delighted. She insists that you need to do that at a party with music so she can properly dance to it.

She also quickly gets fond of yelling at you to polymorph some arseholes who fancy themselves impressive right in the middle of their monologues. You can hear her cheers for a mile if you actually interrupt some evil idiot by doing it.

The magic doesn’t make the connection you two share anymore meaningful to her, true, but it can be an amazing source of fun for her, and she desperately craves those moments after spending so long miserable.

You may find her wondering if you can cast a spell while she tosses you into a fight, like, if you cast burning hands after having been properly yeeted, would you be able to spray it across the battlefield as you went? Expect a lot of those hypotheticals. It’s one of her favorite ways to spend time with you.

Halsin

Halsin considers you proof of the powerful and wonderful capability of nature, regardless of what sort of magic you favor. After all, you are what happens when magic and man entwine completely, and you should expect him to have a romanticized idea of what that means.

He sees your casting as part of the very fabric of who you are, and he takes great pleasure in watching you cast and perform your talents. He’s just as delighted to listen to your experience and views on magic and nature.

He, probably more than anyone else in camp, is very aware of just how… delicate people of your skills can be. Not that he doesn’t think you’re capable, but is very much aware of how much he needs to to stand in front of you as a bear when danger is nearby. He often tries to position himself to make it easy to step in front of you when tension runs high.

He’s also very quick to check in with you after a fight to make sure you aren’t seriously injured. He’s quick to heal you if you need it, and will definitely carry you to safety if the need arises. 

[ryuichirou]

Do you have any headcanons for dynamics between Ortho and the other first years?

Sorry for the late reply, Anon! I really love it when Ortho is grouped with the first years, I am still so happy that he is officially a student now lol

Here are some thoughts…

Ace performs card tricks for Ortho. Well, he does it for everyone whenever he feels like it, but Ortho is always very excited for those; but he kind of sees them as puzzles, as if he has to figure out how the trick works. Ace thinks it’s weird… still, he likes having an invested audience, so he doesn’t really mind. Ace is also quite curious about Ortho, his search system, his relationship with Idia, his purity (does he have one), so he asks a lot of questions, but Ortho just says it’s a “se~cret” most of the times. Oh, and Ortho is extremely good at seeing through Ace’s tricks.

Ortho helps Deuce out with homework sometimes! And if they are in the same classroom for some reason, he’ll be happy to give him a hint or even a cheat sheet, although Deuce doesn’t really like those. Still, Ortho loves both being useful and having to be stealthy about this thing just so he doesn’t get yelled at by the teacher. This is such a fun experience to him… But also, he asked Deuce for help once too. He didn’t really need it, but he really enjoyed listening to Deuce’s poor explanation. They also talk about bikes a lot (with both Deuce and Epel).

Ortho is excited to get along with everyone, but Jack is still a bit confused about how he is supposed to feel about Ortho. He is pretty neutral about him, but Ortho was eager to find common ground with him, and it was jogging. Ortho doesn’t get to use his running gear a lot, so running with Jack is a great excuse to develop and upgrade the gear further + befriend Jack! They also talk about siblings, and it’s funny because while Jack talks about taking care of his younger siblings, Ortho talks about how he makes sure Idia doesn’t forget to eat…

Ortho hangs out with Epel quite regularly actually due to being so close to Vil and the Film Research club. Maybe it’s because of the fact that both of them are small and a bit childish, but he is the most playful and mischievous with Epel; he teases him, but they also have a lot of mutual “>:3c” moments. So sometimes Epel feels like he actually got himself a sibling, but then he blinks and suddenly Ortho acts like Vil’s perfect little assistant. Epel doesn’t get how he can do both, I guess it’s because he is an AI…. (not really, Epel)

Ortho and Sebek don’t really interact all that much, but Ortho is still as intrigued by him as by any other student. Finding common ground with him also turned out to be the most difficult…  but he did listen to his ode for Malleus once! He was very patient and stoic, and Sebek has enough of understanding of an AI to think that Ortho wouldn’t mind him talking for like 4 hours. He was very satisfied because Idia’s younger brother was a much more pleasant person to talk to! Even though Ortho didn’t really say much… but he learned a lot that day (Idia immediately told Ortho to delete all this data, it’s useless noise lol)

Whenever Grim can’t see something because of his height, Ortho grabs him and flies higher so both of them could watch that thing they couldn’t see… a couple of shorties.

They have gaming tournaments pretty much regularly! You know, with the gaming system they got as a gift for Yuu and Grim. And things gets bloody because the boys are competitive, and Ortho is one of the most competitive ones. He doesn’t care that he is a computer, the fact that no one can beat him is just skill issue lol

[fallen-gravity]

One Call Away

It's 1982. Somewhere in New Mexico, Stan recieves a phone call from not-quite his brother. Someone is threatening to take his life. Whether Ford himself is desperately reaching out for help, or someone else entirely has him at gunpoint, Stan knows one thing for sure: He needs to find him and fast.

Alternatively: An AU where the payphone Bill used to call Stan while posessing Ford worked, and Stan is actually forced to listen to his "brother" threaten to kill himself.

Notes:

Caution: This fic has MAJOR spoilers for The Book of Bill. Proceed with caution.

Author's Note 2 Electric Boogaloo: God, this book has had a huge grip on my psyche all week. I'm losing my mind. I'm going absolutely feral. I lost my shit at the section of the Missing Journal 3 Pages where Ford revealed that Bill tried to make a phone call in his name to Stan threatening to kill himself. I audibly gasped. I read it three times. God. I'm insane.

No character death tag because nobody dies! This fic ends on a positive note, I promise :')

AO3 Link

Or under the cut:

When you’ve been scamming suckers out of their money as long as Stan has, you come to learn to expect that anything can happen. You learn to tend to your own injuries, you learn the best escape routes, you learn as many languages as you can in case you need to flee the country, you learn to disappear without a trace; when you expect everything, you learn to let nothing surprise you.

When you have a public phone line that anyone can call, you learn to expect that only about half of those calls are gonna be potential new customers eager to try out your products. When you’ve been relying on these new customers to provide the money for your next meal, you tend to pay attention to patterns; you notice when your commercials air, how many customers are likely to call in, and how long it takes for customers to realize they’ve been scammed and call back demanding their money back. To most, it looks like the world’s most elaborately thought out scam they’ve ever seen. To you, it’s survival.

Expect everything so you can be prepared for anything. That’s how Stan sees it, anyway. As long as he’s prepared, nothing can catch him off guard. If he knows what’s coming, he’ll never have to wake up in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind his back ever again.

Unfortunately for Stan, though, that means being hyper-alert at all times, even in his sleep, so even the most mundane of noises can wake him up. If the couple in the hotel room next to him drops a bottle of shampoo in the shower, he’s gonna hear it and wake up. 

If the phone starts ringing at god-knows-when in the morning, he’s going to shoot up awake, even if it just turns out to be some dumb telemarketer trying to reach him about his car’s extended warranty.

The alarm clock on the hotel nightstand tells him it’s nearing four-thirty in the morning when the complimentary phone in his hotel room starts ringing. 

That’s…strange. There’s no way that could be a customer, because Stan never bothered to buy commercial spots for late night and prime time television. For one, prime time is incredibly expensive and has too many competitors who are selling actual products, and secondly, Stan’s found that he has the most success when he advertises on the daytime soap opera channels, because that’s when all the bored housewives and old folks’ homes are likely watching TV. 

Could it be someone he’s pissed off? No, that doesn’t make any sense either, because they don’t usually have the courtesy to call before they show up with a shotgun or twelve. It can’t be Ma, since she usually calls when Pa goes away on his weekend trips to Atlantic City. 

Nothing’s adding up. Every fiber in his being is telling him not to answer.

And yet… 

He fears more for what will happen to him if he doesn’t answer. 

He pats his hair down, takes a deep breath, and picks up the receiver. 

“You’ve reached Stan-Co! Totally authentic and worthwhile products. If you need it, I have it. Stan’s your man. How can I legitimately help you today?”

“Stanley!” replies an all-too familiar voice, one he hasn’t heard in nearly ten years. “Just the man I wanted to see!” he says, despite not being able to see him and having been the one who called first. 

“Wh- Stanford?!? The hell are you doin’ calling my infomercial line?” Stan splutters, too shocked to even bother trying to keep his voice down. 

“Awww, that’s not a very nice hello for your favorite brother, is it?” Ford’s voice replies, sounding like he’s suppressing hysterical laughter. 

Something’s wrong.

 Stan may not have spoken to his brother in years, but he can instantly tell that something’s wrong.

“Stanford, what the hell is going on?”

There’s a short pause, and then Ford blows a raspberry into the receiver. “You’re no fun! I thought for sure you’d cry like a baby when I called!” 

Yeah, okay, something is definitely wrong. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on, Ford? Why the hell are you calling me so late? Why me? I thought you hated my guts!”

“Oh, I do!” Ford replies without a drop of hesitation, giggling like a madman. “But I don’t have much time, and there’s something really important I need to say, and you’re the only person I want hearing what I’m about to say.” There’s something…off about the way he sounds, not quite the slur of someone who’s drunk and far too energetic to be that of someone lacking sleep. But there’s something almost garbled about it, like he’s not all that aware of what he’s saying, and if Stan listens close enough he’s sure that he can hear an echo.

But Stan can recognize the cheap, static-y sound of someone calling from a payphone anywhere. Wherever Ford is, he’s calling from outside, and the last time Stan checked the only places outside that echoed were either very high up, very dangerous, or both of them put together. Stan does his best to repress the lump forming in his throat trying to imagine what kind of danger he possibly could’ve gotten himself into, especially if he felt the need to call him, rather than the cops, but he still can’t quite shake the tremble in his voice when he replies.

“Not much time? C’mon, Ford, don’t say that! I can help you! Screw this cold shoulder bullshit! I can help you! Just tell me what’s going on so we can figure this out together!”

An eerily long pause, and the next time Ford speaks it’s as if he brought the phone as close to his mouth as he possibly could. 

“You’re too late,” he replies, colder and more dismissive as Stan’s ever heard in his entire life. “I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that it’s because I never loved you. Buh-Byeeeeee!” 

“WAIT!” Stan screeches, and thankfully it’s enough to stop Ford from hanging up. “Ford, c’mon, there’s gotta be something I can do! You’re acting crazy! I’m not asking anymore, I’m begging! Where the hell are you?”

Another pause. 

Then, a voice that doesn’t sound anything like Ford’s.

“Oh, goody! An audience! You want to watch him die so badly, that’s fine by me! I’ll even hold off just for you!” An ear-shatteringly high pitched cackle. “Gravity Falls, Oregon. If you want him, come and get him.”

“Him?! Who the hell is-” Stan snaps, but before he can ask any more questions, Ford hangs up, and all Stan is left with is the droning buzz of the dial tone.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Either Ford’s lost his mind and really is planning to off himself, or someone else is threatening to do it for him. Shit. Shit. Stan has to go now. Everything else be damned, if he doesn’t leave before this other maniac gets bored of waiting then Ford’s not gonna be there at all when he finally makes it to Oregon. That’s nearly halfway across the country from his hotel in New Mexico as is, so he already doesn’t have any time to spare.

He leaps out of bed, reaching underneath until he finds his duffle bag, and practically tears the place apart trying to get all of his belongings together. There’s something in his gut telling him he’s not coming back any time soon, and even if Ford had miraculously said he was only one state over, Stan isn’t willing to risk leaving behind anything important, weaponry included. How’s Stan supposed to know what kind of bullshit Ford got himself into? How could he live with himself if he assumed all was well and left his brass knuckles behind, only to find his brother half-dead in an alleyway somewhere? 

He’s not risking it. Even if everything is fine, and Ford had only sounded like that because he was drunk off his ass and had no idea what he was actually saying, Stan’s not risking it.

Even if Ford doesn’t want him in his life, Stan’s not willing to risk losing him. Not again. Not permanently. 

Once he has all his stuff together, Stan scribbles down a half-assed apology for housekeeping and tapes it to the door alongside a twenty dollar bill. He hastily tosses all of his stuff in the back of the car, and speeds off out of the hotel parking lot as if it were his own life on the line. He doesn’t want to think about the worst case scenarios, so for now he focuses only on the road signs for directions to the closest pit stop and hopefully enough energy drinks to last him the twenty-something hour drive he’s about to make. 

Thankfully, the closest one is less than an hour away and open 24/7 to boot, so Stan is sure that his luck is turning around; all he has to do is pop in, grab a few things, and be on his way. He’ll be in Oregon before he knows it.

That is, of course, until he realizes that none of the maps at the place even have a so-called Gravity Falls listed on any of them.

“Uh, hey,” Stan calls out to the worker behind the cash register, who looks like he’s falling asleep where he stands. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Gravity Falls is, do you? Gravity Falls, Oregon?” 

At first Stan’s not entirely sure if the poor guy even heard him, but then the worker eyes him up and down and sighs heavily. “You makin’ fun of me or something?”

Stan blinks. “What? No, A’course not!” he sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t exactly have a lot of time here! I don’t know why I can’t find it on any of your brochure maps, but I’ve got a gut feeling that someone I love is in a lot of danger and I need to get there as fast as I possibly can. Do you know where it is or not?”

For a brief moment the man still doesn’t answer, eyeing him up and down again, before he sighs and leans forward, like the information he’s about to give him is top-secret government information. “Alright,” he whispers, and glances around the store to make sure the two of them are alone. “I’ve heard things. Rumors. Crazy stories about ghouls and goblins and people who come and go without a trace of memory of who they were before they entered that town. I’ve got a general idea of where it is, but I’m not confident. If you’re willing to listen, I’ve got theories.”

Under any other circumstances, Stan would wave him off as insane and book it out of there as fast as he could, but he’s desperate for any information he can get, and he’s not entirely sure when the next time he’ll find anyone even remotely familiar with the town will even be. So Stan agrees, and does his best not to show how insane he thinks this worker is as he starts going off about the supernatural and monsters that sound like they belong in a Saturday morning cartoon. 

If Ford really is anywhere near any kind of place that fits this man’s stories, it’s no wonder he sounded like he was starting to lose his mind. 

After listening to the man ramble on for god knows how long and watching him draw circles in the map where he thinks the town could be, Stan thanks him by actually paying for what he came in for before jumping back into his car and speeding down the highway as fast as he possibly can. 

It’s an agonizing two day drive, only stopped by the times Stan fell asleep at the wheel and forced himself to pull over and take a nap, and the time he was so desperate for food that he pulled off at some truck stop (with admittedly the grossest food he’s eaten since becoming homeless) for a hot meal. If it were up to him, he would’ve done the whole drive in one go, but it was when he nearly careened his car off a cliff trying to stay awake that he realized that he wouldn’t be any good to his brother dead, so he resolved to also take short driving breaks here and there to make sure he kept his energy up; if he really does need to fight someone when he gets there, he’s gonna need all the strength he can get. 

Thankfully, upon arrival at Gravity Falls, Ford’s place of residence is much easier to find than Stan had feared; for a guy who’d been longing for a place he belonged since early childhood, Ford sure likes to stick out like a sore thumb wherever he goes. As soon as Stan goes around town asking townsfolk if anyone had seen anyone who looked like him “except a lot smarter, I guess,” nearly every single person he asks points off in the same direction of the woods and gives him the same confused sort of I think he lives somewhere in there. If he hadn’t gotten it from at least five separate people, Stan would’ve been sure that they were all screwing with him. 

And, as it turns out…every single one of them is right. It doesn’t take that much venturing in the woods for Stan to come across the giant cabin aglow in eerie blue lighting and surrounded by tall fences of barbed wire with pieces of cardboard stapled to it and “KEEP OUT” written on them in shaky handwriting. If Ford is anywhere, it’s here. 

Now…breaking into somewhere he’s not allowed? Stan can do that in his sleep. He’s done it hundreds of times, and he’ll probably do it another hundreds of thousands of times again before he dies.

But… 

Seeing his brother again? 

That terrifies him to his very core. Reason for driving all the way out here aside, there’s still a very real chance Ford’s gonna tell him he still never wants to see him again and slam the door in his face, and then Stan’s really gonna have nowhere to go. After everything, if Stan rescues Ford from whatever’s after him and he still tells him to leave and never come back?

What then?

…No. That’s not what matters right now. He can worry about that later.

With a shake of his head to brush off his thoughts, Stan rams his car into the fence hard and fast enough to topple it to the ground. He drives down the path until he’s close enough to the front entrance that he can hop out of his car as quickly as he can, but hidden enough that he won’t be seen if someone (or something) tries to escape.

Stan takes a deep breath as he exits his car and makes his way to the front door, and finds himself hesitating to knock the door as soon as he’s on the porch steps.

It’s for his own good, Stan tells himself. It’s for his own good. I’m just trying to help. It’s for his own good. 

He stamps down on any last remnants of hesitation and knocks on the door, loud enough for Ford to hear but gently enough to hopefully assure him that it isn’t anyone who wants to hurt him. Almost instantaneously, Stan can hear the sound of objects falling and glass shattering from inside, like a spooked deer trying to dodge the headlights of an oncoming truck. Stan’s sure he can hear the sound of someone muttering, and he’s relieved beyond comparison that it’s the only voice he can hear coming from inside.  

Because he can tell that it’s Ford’s voice. 

Which means he’s still alive.

Stan huffs out a huge sigh of relief, and subconsciously begins patting down the wrinkles in his clothes to make himself more presentable. He waits, and he waits, but despite Stan knowing he heard Ford stumbling around inside, he never comes to answer the door. 

Stan frowns. This is going to be even harder than he thought. Stan tries again, this time knocking exactly six times in the hopes that it’ll clue Ford in on the fact that it’s just him at the door.

As it turns out, though, that seems to be an even bigger mistake than knocking normally, because now the noises coming from inside sound even more frightened. From inside, Stan can hear a muffled string of curse words, followed by the sound of some piece of furniture being knocked over, and finally, the sound of feet trying and failing to sneakily run across a squeaky hardwood floor.  Stan’s about to give up, head into town, and try reaching Ford from a payphone instead, but the door slowly starts to creak open before Stan has the chance to step down from the porch and get back in his car. 

“Stay back!” Ford shrieks, his voice trembling. Stan still can’t quite see him, because he’s too distracted by the crossbow being shoved in his face. “I don’t care who you’re pretending to be, I will shoot if you try anything!”

Ford finally steps out into view, and Stan’s heart falls to his stomach. Sweet Moses, he looks so much worse than Stan ever could’ve imagined. His hair is a wreck, sticking up in some places and sticking to the side of his face in others. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, which Stan can only hope is from crying and not something…worse. There’s a dried streak of blood running down from his right eye, and there’s scratches and cuts splattered around his face. He’s wearing a ratty trench coat, and the white shirt underneath is practically falling off of his body, concerningly torn to bits at the chest area. And from what’s left of the poor shirt, there’s splotches of vomit mixed with some other…unrecognizable liquids.

Stan can feel a foul-tasting bile rising in his throat at the sight of him. Surely anyone else would flee, thinking him to be clinically insane, but Stan refuses to sit around and ignore whatever caused his brother to turn out like…this. 

“Stanford?” Stan splutters, failing to keep the shock out of his voice. “What the ever-loving  fuck is going on?” 

Somehow, that of all things is what seems to snap Ford out of his trance. He’s still clinging to his crossbow, but his fingers aren’t on the trigger anymore and his eyes are already looking less foggy than when he’d opened the door a minute prior. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, and takes a cautious, shaky step forward, like he’s afraid the ground will shatter like glass under his feet if he moves too quickly. 

“S-Stanley?” Ford whispers, more to himself than to Stan, but Stan can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him. 

He’s not too far gone. There’s still hope. Stan goes to take another step forward, but before he has the chance, all the color drains from Ford’s face.

“Oh no,” Ford whispers, and the crossbow slips from his hand. “Oh no no no no no no no,” he mumbles, retreating back inside without closing the door. He comes back out moments later, gripping a flashlight in one hand and a VHS tape in the other. 

Out of nowhere, Ford grabs Stan by the shoulders, prompting a surprised yelp out of him, and even more out of nowhere, Ford takes the flashlight and flashes it in his eyes. 

“Ow! What gives!?” Stan exclaims, pulling himself out of Ford’s grip and rubbing at his eyes with his wrist. When his vision finally readjusts from the assault, he’s surprised to see that Ford’s whole posture has relaxed significantly. Sure, he still looks frightened out of his mind, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to shatter to pieces anymore. 

“How long have you been here?” Ford asks, completely ignoring Stan’s previous questions. 

“Uhh…” Stan pauses, admittedly taken aback by the question. “About an hour, I think?” he shrugs. “Had some trouble finding you, since some of the folks I asked around town didn’t seem to know who I was talking about when I asked about you.”

Ford’s eyes widen in horror. “You asked around town about me?” He splutters, but then clears his throat to regain his composure. “Did anyone try to get anything out of you? Were you followed?” 

Stan snorts. “Puh-lease. The most dangerous person around here is probably me, and I haven’t eaten a healthy meal in weeks.” He shakes his head. “Nobody said anything. And if I was followed, I’d know. It’s something you learn to look out for when you’ve been living on the streets for ten years.” There’s a shred more resentment in his tone than he meant for it to be, but it seems to get the message across well enough. Ford sighs, and gestures inside. 

“Come in,” Ford mumbles, his gaze falling to the ground. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time.” Without waiting for Stan, Ford turns heel and hastily returns inside. Stan does his best to follow close behind, but stops dead in his tracks as soon as he steps foot inside. 

The whole place is trashed. 

Trashed far beyond what Stan thought a single human could ever be capable of. There’s papers scattered everywhere, bottles of ink spilled and pooling everywhere, cupboards with holes smashed into the doors, broken plates and twisted rusty nails scattered all over the floor, a concerningly bloodied hammer on the kitchen countertop, multiple windows boarded up with splintered wood, and empty boxes of instant coffee mix strewn all around the kitchen.

Most concerningly of all, there’s a door that leads somewhere that’s covered with scratches and dripping with blood, and Stan’s not entirely sure whether that means something wanted in or if something was desperate to get out. 

Stan’s not entirely sure which thought he prefers. 

He doesn’t have too much time to stew on that, though, because he’s pulled from his thoughts by the loud thwack of plastic being smacked against the wall. He turns to the source of the noise, and he’s surprised to find Ford desperately trying to break the VHS tape in half. When that doesn’t work, he groans in frustration and resolves to throwing it on the ground. 

“Uh…Stanford?” Stan tries, and reaches out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Ford moves swiftly in another direction before he can reach him.

“I can’t do it,” Ford’s voice wavers with emotion. His head droops in defeat, and though his back is turned, Stan can see him cover his face with his hands. “I can’t do it. I’m too late. I can’t do it.”  He starts to shake even harder, like his body wants him to cry but he’s forcing it not to happen because he needs to stay strong.

For who? Himself? For Stan? For someone else?

“Hey, hey…” Stan drops his voice to a whisper, hoping a calmer tone of voice will be more likely to get a proper reply out of Ford. Stan is one-hundred percent not calm, and is in fact getting more and more freaked out the longer he doesn’t get a reply, but the last thing he needs is to stress Ford out even more than he already is. “S’alright. I’m here, okay? Whatever it is I can help you with. I don’t even care if it involves any nerdy-smarts stuff. I can learn it for you. I can help you.”

For a few brief moments, Ford’s heavy breathing pauses. He turns to look at Stan, and it’s hard not to flinch at the fact that he’s looking more and more like a kicked, abused puppy. He looks like he’s genuinely considering replying, even goes to open his mouth, but clamps down on that moments later when another thought seemingly comes to him. 

“I…” he stammers, and violently shakes his head again. “I can’t. I could never.” He starts pacing back and forth in place, rubbing his arms up and down together in a failed attempt to self-sooth. “I wish I could, but…” he trails off, but stops before he can allow himself to finish. He violently shakes his head again, like he’s not allowing himself to even think that things could possibly get better. 

Stan scowls. That’s the last straw. 

“Stanford.” Stan speaks firmly, and grabs at both of his brother’s shoulders. His grip is gentle enough not to hurt him, but strong enough to prevent him from squirming away. As it turns out, though, the strength isn’t very necessary, since Ford practically goes limp in his arms at the touch. 

“Stanford,” Stan repeats as he turns Ford around to force him to look him in the eyes. “I’m not asking anymore. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I know for a fact that I didn’t just haul my ass all the way out to Oregon from New Mexico worried sick to death that my brother was going to kill himself just for him to push me away again. I don’t know if something happened to you after you got rejected from that fancy nerd school, or if someone’s after you, or if you really are thinking about killing yourself. I don’t care if that phone call from the other day was a threat or just a drunk dial you made after watching too much Galaxy Sci-Fi Wars, or what, but I don’t need any of that to see how much trouble you’re in! You’re shaking! You’re hurt! Your house looks like it was hit by every single natural disaster all at once! I don’t care how it happened, I care that it happened. Talk to me, Stanford. I’m not leaving until you talk.”

There’s a heavy pause. Ford’s eyes are darting all around Stan’s face, and Stan’s not quite sure what he’s looking for. He doesn’t look angry or offended, but he doesn’t look all that convinced, either. It’s almost as if there’s a deep-rooted sadness in his gaze, like Ford’s not fully convinced of his honesty, and that breaks Stan’s heart more than anything else.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ford finally replies, breaking eye contact but not bothering to break out of Stan’s grip.

Stan wants to laugh. If the situation were less dire, he would laugh. “Wouldn’t understand?” he replies, gently shaking Ford’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t understand what? Having a target on your back wherever you go? An expensive bounty on your head? You think I don’t understand having to sleep with one eye open? With having to pack everything up as soon as possible because you might not survive the night if you don’t leave? Or do you think I don’t understand being too scared to try leaving, because you feel like the moment you’re out of a so-called ‘safe zone’ is the moment someone’s gonna kidnap you? Or throw you in the trunk of their car? Or do something much, much worse to you? Just because you pissed off the wrong guy? Do y’really think I don’t understand that, Ford? I understand that better than anybody. I understand that better than I’m willing to admit.” 

One final pause, and then Ford sighs heavily enough that Stan can feel the tension slumping off of his body.  Stan finally releases his grip on him, and Stan is hugely relieved to notice that Ford’s posture already looks significantly more relaxed. 

“You’re right,” Ford mumbles, and stretches his arms into the air to try and release any extra remaining tension. “You’re right,” he repeats, and nervously scratches at his chin. “Plus, uh…it probably would be easier to deal with this alongside someone else. I’ve…” he trails off, as if too embarrassed to finish. “I’ve been alone with my…thoughts for far too long. Some human company might do me some good.” 

Stan snorts. “Ha! Listen to yourself. Human company might do me some good. If I’d shown up any later you would’ve turned into a full-time nerd robot!”

Ford cracks the tiniest of smiles at that, whether he’s aware of it or not, and then it’s right back to business as usual. “Alright, fine. You got me.” He rubs at the back of his head. “There’s…someone after me. Someone who wants me dead. I don’t really know how to explain it to you, but it wasn’t exactly…me that called you the other night. I mean, it technically was, since I was the one who was speaking, but it was more like…he was forcing me to say those things. There’s something of mine that he wants, but I’m afraid that if he gets his hands on it, it’s going to hurt a lot of people. No, scratch that, I know it’s going to hurt a lot of people. I know that, and he knows that, and that’s why he wants it. But that’s also why I refuse to give it to him. It’s a big vicious game of cat and mouse. He wants it, I don’t give it to him, he retaliates with violence. There’s no winning.” He takes a deep breath, clearly trying his damn hardest not to spiral again. “Either I give him what he wants or he kills me taking it by force.” He buries his face into his hands. “I can’t do it.” He whimpers. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“...Bullshit.” 

Stan doesn’t even realize he’d blurted that out loud until Ford pulls his face from his hands to stare at him slack-jawed. “Come again?” 

“I said that’s total bullshit.” Stan replies, firmly standing his ground. “Listen, Ford, I’ve been dealing with his type for a lot longer than I’m willing to admit, and lemme tell you something; that’s just what he wants you to think. He wants you to give up and assume everything’s hopeless, because the moment you lose hope and stop fighting is the moment he’ll strike. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness, because that makes it so much easier to exploit yours. Everyone’s got ‘em, Sixer, but only the cockiest and most powerful aren’t willing to admit that they’ve got ‘em, too. And you wanna know a secret? They don’t like to admit they’ve got weaknesses because they know what it does to them. They know the second anyone finds out about their weakness that they’re just like the rest of us. If we know their weaknesses, we can fight back, and that terrifies those suckers to their very core. That’s the kind of stuff that sends them running home to their mamas. If there’s even an inkling of a chance that someone’s gonna knock them off of their pedestal, or that nobody’s afraid of them anymore because we’ve got ‘em figured out, that’s what gets them. They get so obsessed over the power they have on others that they forget to stop and consider that others can have power over them.”

“I’m telling you, Sixer, no matter what this guy tries to convince you, he’s just sayin’ it to keep you complacent. He wants you to think he’s got no weakness because he’s terrified at the idea of losing his power over you. Once you stop letting him control you, he’ll have nowhere else to stand. Once he loses you, he loses everything. It’s not about whether or not you can fight back, it’s about how you’re gonna fight back. Because once you fight back and you take control, he’s gonna have nowhere to run, and then he’s gonna be the one backed into a corner. You can fight back. You can tell him no.”

“B-but-” 

“Up up up, I don’t wanna hear it” Stan waggles a finger in his face. “If I’m still alive after all I’ve been through, I sure as hell know that you’re gonna make it, too. If I can chew my way out of the trunk of a car and tunnel my way out of a Colombian prison using nothing but cheap plastic cutlery, you can break away from whatever hold this guy has on you. Don’t sit around and wait for this guy to strike, you gotta stand up and strike first. He’ll never see it coming.” He slaps Ford on the back. “You’re a smart guy, Sixer, I’m sure that you of all people could figure out how to outsmart this guy. 

Ford looks like he wants to believe him, like he wants to hope that things are gonna be okay, but there’s something that’s still tethering him to his fears. There’s the briefest spark of hope in his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived.

“I wish I could believe you, Stanley, but Bill, he’s-” Ford starts, but flinches like he’s been shot when he accidentally uses this other guy’s name. It breaks Stan’s heart to see his brother so fearful for his life, but it also makes his blood boil over with rage thinking about the power this guy’s got over him.

 What, is saying his name gonna summon him or something? Did this Bill guy plant bugged cameras all over the house so he could keep a constant eye on Ford so he’ll know if he’s ever thinking of pulling something over his eyes? Is that why Ford’s place is so trashed? Did he tear the place apart looking for secret cameras and hidden microphones? What gives?  

Ford freezes, as if he’s actually expecting this guy to kick his door in, and when nothing happens he audibly sighs in relief. 

Stan crosses his arms. “But what? This Bill guy’s supposed to be different? More powerful? I’m tellin’ ya, he’s no different than any of the other jerks I’ve had to deal with.” He jabs another finger in Ford’s direction. “And even if he was, by some chance? Even if this guy is somehow the most powerful and feared dictator in the whole universe, what’s the first thing I said when I got here?”

Ford goes to respond, but then his cheeks burn red and stops, a clear sign that he’s forgotten. 

“I said I’m here for you. I’m here because I want to help you. I could stand here and lecture you about crime lords all day, but nothing’s ever going to change if you don’t let me help you. I don’t care how big and tough this guy thinks he is! You’re my brother, Stanford. Nothing else matters more to me than my family. You even said it yourself earlier!” Stan throws his arms into the air in an exasperated manner. “Two heads are always gonna be better than one. Two pairs of fists are also always gonna be better in a fight. You don’t have to magically stop being afraid of this guy, but I’m telling you that it’s gonna be a lot easier if you have someone fightin’ the good fight with you. I wish I had someone when I was on the run from Rico and his gang.” 

Ford frowns. “Stanley…” 

“Point is,” Stan waves him off before he can go down a guilt-ridden spiral. “I’m not leaving. Matter of fact, I’m not asking you anymore. I’m telling you. I’m staying. Until we get this whole thing sorted out and send this Bill guy running for the hills, I’m not leaving. Protest all you want, but I’m gonna stay right here by your side until you feel safe again. Hell, I’ll even sleep on the front porch as lookout if you need me to! I’m tellin’ ya, I’m done asking nicely. I won’t let you kick me out this time, Ford. I’m here for ya through thick and thin.” 

For a few painstakingly long moments, Ford doesn’t respond. But he does look like he’s deep in thought, which is a hell of a lot better than all of the flinching and nervous pacing he’s been doing since Stan arrived. If nothing else, that in itself is a huge improvement. But before Stan can start again, Ford pulls a polaroid out of his trench coat pocket, and despite a gentle tear at the corner seemingly from age, it’s looking like the most well-kept object in the entire house. Stan doesn’t bother sneaking a peek out of fear of breaking what little trust he seems to successfully be rebuilding with Ford, but whatever it is seems to bring him a lot of comfort; he only looks at it for a moment, but those few moments are enough to sneak a soft, nostalgic sort of smile onto his face.

“You’re right,” Ford finally says, the calmest he’s sounded all day. “I don’t think there’s any way I could tackle this on my own. But with some help?” He smiles sheepishly. “I think there’s something we could do.”

“There he is!” Stan exclaims, grabbing his brother in a chokehold and giving his hair a rough noogie. “I knew my brother was still in there somewhere!” he grins, and tussles him up one more time before letting go. “And hey, maybe after all this is over you can give Ma a call, eh? She’s worried sick about you, I just know it.”

“Hah!” Ford laughs, tiny sparks of confidence returning to his tone and posture. “Now that’s someone I’m really afraid of upsetting.”

Stan grins, and gives Ford a gentle slug on the shoulder. As hard as Ford’s trying not to show it, Stan can tell he’s starting to enjoy the company. As much as Stan really doesn’t want to admit it, he was desperate for this kind of company again. He watches for a moment as Ford starts to go around cleaning some things off the floor, and Stan can’t help but crack a smile as he goes to join him.

If there’s one thing Stan does want to admit, it’s that he never wants to lose this sort of companionship ever again. Situation be damned, he has his brother back, and that’s more than any material goods he could ever ask for.

Given the situation?

Well, he said he’d stay until Ford wasn’t afraid of this Bill character anymore. But if things were completely up to Stan?

Stan won’t stop until the guy’s dead for daring to mess with his family. 

[harrytheehottie]

‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON PART THREE

a/n: finally!!! the final part of ‘tis the damn season series. it’s a doozy! hope you enjoy! 

word count: 5.5k ⭐️ part one ⭐️ part two ⭐️  tell me your thoughts 

You wanted to say yes.

You knew you should have said yes.

You were standing in the pub where you first met. He rented the place out for the night - filling it with lights, candles and flowers. He had pictures of the two of you throughout the years placed on every table accompanied by a letter.

The first picture you took in this same pub was one neither of you were aware of. One of his friends took it upon themselves to snap a picture of the two of you talking in the corner and sent it to Harry the same night with a text, “I think you found your girl.” It was a feeling they got, he explained, a feeling that he brushed off but now, was thinking about how much of an idiot he was to not take the hint that night.

It took about 3 years for the two of you to get your shit together - Harry more so than you. It was fun at first, hooking up with no labels or “funny business” until it started to feel like you were someone he was ashamed of. And then one day, it all came out of Harry - his love for you, his deep regret for thinking you never wanted anything more with him and his eagerness to try again.

So, you did. You tried and you were happy, very happy. You and Harry spent 3 months dating slowly learning one another without the clouded judgements that come with sex. He was working on his commitment issues in therapy - something he shared with you quite often. You were proud of him for putting himself first and allowing himself the time to truly open up beyond the surface level. You were a unit, a very happy, solid unit.

Until tonight.

When you wake up that morning to an empty bed and a note next to your morning coffee that reads - “I’ll be out all day, meet me at the pub @ 7? Xx Harry'' you knew something was up. Harry wasn’t new to this random dinners and surprises thing, it was actually something you really loved about him. His ability to always make you feel like you were constantly on his mind. He would send you texts of things he saw throughout his day, a song on the radio you’d like, he’d pick up ingredients for dinner and have it ready when he had some time off and you’d been at work, if you mentioned an artist, play, movie that you’d like to see - he would have it on your calendar and you’d make it down to the O2, Royal Albert Hall, any venue across London with the best seats in the house.

You never really talked about marriage. You had been together for three years and never once spoke about marriage, the future? Yes, but never marriage. As far as you were concerned, Harry didn’t want to get married, didn’t believe that a piece of paper could ever sum up what the bond that the two of you had.

So, when you found yourself in your local pub with Harry down on one knee in front of you his hair parted down the middle - just like you always told him you loved because of the way it framed his face, wearing his olive green blazer with nothing underneath but the thin gold necklace with the banana charm you gave him for an anniversary shining off his chest.

“You mean the absolute world to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Harry spoke as he pulled you in for a hug.

“What’s all this about?” You asked, unaware of what Harry was getting at.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear before pulling away from the hug and taking a step back.

You could feel the sudden nerves that filled him. The way he started rubbing his hands together, his thumb and pointer finger pulling at his bottom lip, Harry looked down at the ground before looking back at you, his green eyes finding yours, taking a deep breath before falling down to one knee.

You were frozen.

Your heart dropped down when you realized what was going to happen.

Harry was going to propose to you.

“There is no one else out there for me. Will you please give me the privilege of calling you my wife?”

Harry looked up at you, the corner of his eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“Harry,” your voice trembled. You knew it wasn’t what he was expecting, you hated that you had to do this to him. “I…” you couldn’t finish your sentence but Harry knew.

He moved up from his position standing up in front of you, the tears that were supposed to be from happiness now streaming down his face for something much worse. You were still unable to speak. You felt the rush of guilt ruining this moment. You were more aware than ever that you were alone in this pub that had every detail of your relationship over the last 3 years in it.

“S’not how I really pictured this going” Harry snapped you out of whatever daze you were still in.

“Neither did I,” you admitted. “Harry, I am flattered beyond flattered, that isn’t even the right word for what I feel right now. I just never, I just. I feel so bad. I don’t want this to ruin us. I don’t want to regret this. ”

Harry let the tears fall, his brows furrowed his hand running through his hair before finding the way to pull at his bottom lip again. You’ve never seen Harry like this. The mixture of anger and sadness and you don’t believe this is that moment but if it was, you knew you deserved it.

“Believe me, my dear no one will regret this moment more than I will.”

“Harry don’t say that, please don’t say that. Can we just talk - can you hear me out?”

“I invited our family and friends. Planned this whole night with no doubt in my mind you’d say yes, we’d have time to ourselves before our friends and family surprise us in about 20 minutes.”

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes, here. S’why I rented out the entire pub. If I had any indication that you’d say no I probably wouldn’t have planned it this way.” He was being short.

You hated how much you deserved it.

“Harry, I love you so much. I just wish I had a heads up? We never spoke about marriage, I thought you didn’t want to get married when you told me about childhood and traditions and what we did or didn’t want you never once brought up marriage. I just,” you reached out in front of you to hold his hands, your thumb running up and down his knuckles. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you but,”

“You don’t.” Harry said in a low voice, his anger becoming more apparent as he refused to look you in the eye.

“Baby, please”

“Don’t.”

You wished you could take this moment back. Say yes and talk about it later. You wanted a future with Harry, you didn’t see a future without him in it. But there was something telling you to say no. You weren’t ready - you knew the both of you weren’t ready. Harry was about to embark on the craziest tour schedule that you have ever seen and you didn’t know what that meant for the two of you. And now, you were stuck, in the pub that you knew you’d never be able to walk by again, telling the love of your life you couldn’t marry him and trying to create a plan on what you’re going to do when your family makes their way over.

“We could just pretend?” You whispered.

Harry began to chuckle, clapping his hands together, “You want me to spend the next two hours in front of our closest friends and family pretending like you didn’t just… say no to a future with me?”

Before you had the chance to speak up and because timing was never either of your best qualities, the door of the pub opens, starting with Harry’s Mum and sister, Gemma and Anne walking through the door beaming with excitement. They have more flowers, balloons and what appears to be a congratulatory cake.

And it didn’t take long for their excitement to quickly die - the ring box with the ring in hand on the bar next to Harry, the clear distance between the two of you and if that wasn’t enough - the way Harry looked over to his mum and sister, with his brows furrowed, his lips began to tremble and like they were on cue, both women came rushing towards him.

You watched as they hugged and embraced him, the constant sorry’s slipping through their conversation. Neither of them even wanted to ask any follow up questions. If there was any shot of a reconciliation you had to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I’m going,”

“No,we will go, the two of you stay and work out whatever it is you need to. Mum and I will man the door and contact those we need to.” You were quickly cut off by Harry’s sister.

You nodded in agreement, the last thing you wanted was to give them another reason to hate you. They gave Harry one last hug and before the women started to walk away, Anne, Harry’s mother who you grew very fond of through the course of you relationship walked towards you with open arms, whispering “I know you love him, I’ve never been more sure of it and if that love is still there, allow yourselves the chance to fight for that love.”

“No matter what happens Anne, I’ll always think of you as family,” is what you could respond with. Gemma followed her mother, giving you a hug and reminding you that, “it’s your life and we’ll always love you.”

As you watched the two most important women in Harry’s life exit the pub that was supposed to be used to celebrate the next step in you and Harry’s life you wondered if they were trying to mask the disappointment.

“I don’t want to do this.” Harry said. He was short, rightfully so.

“Do you think I want to do this? Do you think I want to do any of this?” Your anger kicking in, “not once have we ever had this discussion. You have never brought up marriage until this very moment, you don’t just ask someone to marry you without bringing it up first.”

“Sorry, here I was thinking that proposals were supposed to be surprises,” he was pissed. You knew it from the second you rejected him. It always starts off slow, frustration turns to sadness and then into anger. You’ve never been the subject of that anger, until now.

“Do you know what a marriage is? It’s not a fancy wedding and an excuse to have a party. It takes work - what am I meant to do when you’re on tour for 9 months out of the year? Drop everything to be by your side? Give up my career so you could live out yours? We don’t even live together Harry, for fucks sakes. What shall I do with my house? Sell it and move into yours? Everything about our relationship from the day it started has been about you - when do you want me around, when is it time for you to want to take me seriously, and one day finally you came to your senses and apologized for the hell you put me through. Do you know how that feels? How does that mess with someone? I love you Harry, I love us. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that deep down something inside me will always wonder if I’m just here until you find your next best - no one makes the girl you've been stringing along for years the girlfriend, and now you expect me to say yes to being a wife?”

You were exhausted. You felt every emotion that you buried deep inside come rushing out.

“You’re still holding onto things from years ago and you know s’not fair. I was a dickhead, I owned that, I’m ashamed of that. I want you, I want every part of you for the rest of my life,” Harry’s green eyes meeting yours, you felt every word he was saying but you knew you couldn’t, not now.

“I believe you Harry and I love you so much, that’s why I can’t,” you were aware of how hypocritical you were being. You needed to think.

“You can’t even say it, s’pathetic, is this your way of getting back at me? If so s’working if that’s what you were going for.” His accent getting more thick stumbling over his words,  a sign that this conversation was far from over.

“If that’s what you think Harry then I don’t know if I have anything else to say to you.”

“S’not what I think? It’s what I know. S'pose to the love of my life and she can’t even say she’s rejecting me, s’pathetic, rented out this pub, bought a ring, got our friends and family excited.”

“You’re not being fair Harry.” You knew he was speaking from a place of hurt but you also knew, if you stood there any longer and allowed him to keep going - you’d both say something you could never take back.

“Fair? S’not fair?”

You moved closer to him, and when he didn’t step back from your advance towards him, it gave you hope that you’d be able to come back from this. You took his hands into yours, and looked him in the eye, searching for the familiarity and love that you always knew was there, even when you were going through the worst of it, “Harry, I want this to work, I love you.” You put your arms out to hug him and he fell into you - the comfort of his body embracing yours, your hands running circles around his back, you knew that it would take some work but you and Harry always came back to each other. “I’m going to go now.”

You pulled back, kissing him on his chest right where the first button of his blazer met. You looked up at him one last time and he couldn’t muster up the courage to look at you, mumbling his goodbye as you walked out the door.

&&

Gemma and Anne took care of letting everyone else that was invited know. Your parents came over with food and flowers and you tried to keep it all in. All you could think about was Harry, what he was doing or thinking and on the third night of radio silence from him, you began doom scrolling through the internet. You knew you shouldn’t have. You never allowed yourself to google yourself. It was never worth it. Once you became officially linked to Harry it was a breeding ground for rumors and gossip. Tonight was worse.

Harry Styles seen with a new mystery woman. Girlfriend hasn’t been seen in weeks. Trouble in paradise?

You clicked the link. Your stomach dropping at the sight of a very drunk Harry being escorted out of a club, a sigh of relief washing over you when you realized the mystery woman was one of the lesser known people in Harry’s inner circle. You kept zooming in and out of the images of him. The way he could barely walk, stumbling out with his security guards, his body looked limp. You haven't seen him like this since before you officially got back together. He kept partying for special occasions but never went overboard.

You wanted to reach out to him. Tell him that you could work through this. You wanted to be with him. You wished he would’ve waited. But that’s the man you fell in love with. His spontaneity was one of your favorite things about him. You never thought it would be the type to keep you apart.

During the years that you and Harry were in a limbo you would always wonder what he was up to on nights that you weren’t together. Your relationship always felt like it was in his hands. Does he want to see you? Did he ask you to come to a show? How fast can you get to his house? When were you going back home for the holidays? You felt like you had this duty to him even though it was no strings attached friends hooking up. The ball felt like it was never in your court.

And you could never escape him. When you’d go weeks and weeks of not seeing him you would inevitably catch his face somewhere. On your weekly grocery run there would be lines of magazines. It felt like you couldn’t escape. You would avoid the supermarket as much as you could so you wouldn’t be subjected to anymore of him. You immediately fell back into bad habits which made Harry constantly going out hurt more. You wondered what he told people. How those around him would react. The ones who knew you but had loyalty to Harry. What did his family think? You felt completely isolated.

And you really tried not to let your mind wander too far but you also couldn’t help but wonder how long it was going to take him to fall into someone else.

&&

You went out for one of your friend’s birthdays after being stuck at home for weeks. The last thing you wanted to do was be in a nasty club surrounded by drunk people. It had been years since that point of your life since you got into a relationship with Harry and now that your life felt like it imploded, it was the last thing you wanted to do. But you had to. Your friends had been your rocks through this experience and it was probably good to spend a night out trying to clear your mind of things.

So, you put on your little black dress paired with your favorite leather bomber jacket that Harry gifted you for your one year anniversary, kept the tears at bay once you had your hair up in a bun and makeup on ready to take on the night.

You took a shot of tequila before leaving your apartment to get your nerves in order. A second shot immediately as you got to the table at the club. Your third as you wished a happy birthday to the birthday girl. You were feeling the good type of drunk where you weren’t sloppy just a little loose. All of the worries of the last few weeks just went away, you felt good and present.

“I’m so glad you came out with us,” the birthday girl said as she embraced you for a hug. All your friends were happy to see you, they only knew bits and pieces of why you and Harry were in this current stage so they were being extra supportive tip toeing around your current relationship state.

Everything was good, you were all having fun.

Until, the birthday girl decided she wanted to leave the club and go walk over to a pub that she knows has karaoke. You walk in and the first song that you hear is one that had been a part of the ‘soundtrack’ of you and Harry’s relationship, The Way I Feel Inside by The Zombies. You remember it clearly, and can see it playing out in front of you like a movie. You were over at his. Harry decided to treat you to a dinner that ended up turning into a takeaway because he overcooked the pasta before you got there blaming it on his nerves.

“I make you nervous?” You teased as you watched him pour the both of you a glass of wine.

“Very,” the shy smile paired with the blush on Harry’s cheeks answered your question. Your heart beating out of your chest as you took his statement in. You felt like you spent so much of your early arrangement fighting for him to come to this realization and now that he was doing this all for you and letting you know how much you meant to him, you couldn’t help how much it melted your heart. Your relationship wasn’t perfect and it definitely came from unconventional circumstances but you knew he was it for you.

“Oh my god, are you Harry Styles' girlfriend?”

“What?” You were snapped out of your daydream and suddenly there were two very eager girls in front of you with their phones out.

“It’s you right?” They both said almost in unison before they flashed their phones in front of you, an image of you and Harry taken by a stranger illuminated the screen. You remember that day, you were both wearing each other's hoodies, a coffee in hand as you walked through the park. You had no idea that someone took a picture of the two of you.

Luckily, you were immediately pulled away from the girls by your friends. Your mind was spinning and you felt like you were out of your body. People taking pictures of you and Harry was unfortunately something you were used to. You have never been approached by anyone on your own and even rarely with Harry. He made a point to protect you from that and you were grateful.

But now, you were drunk, unsure about your future but hopeful that if anyone could make it work, it would be the two of you.

&&

You woke up from a text from Gemma, you hadn’t spoken to her since the incident and your mind immediately went to something being wrong with Harry.

Gemma: Hello! Are you doing alright? Just checking in.

Hii! As good as I could be right. How are you? Is Harry alright?

He’d probably say the same as you

If her motivation for checking in was to make you feel bad it was working.

I just want to make sure you’re okay and know you always have a friend in me, regardless of what happens.

Also, please don’t read any of the online bullshit. That’s a dark place to be and it’s not good for either of you.

Gemma was one of the first people to have a talk with you about the reality of being in Harry’s life. It was shortly after you accidentally ran into her after not so secretly leaving Harry’s childhood bedroom. She invited you to lunch once you were back in London to have a talk with you.

“I don’t know what you and my brother have and I’m sure he’s tried all he can to protect you from that side of the internet but I know how curiosity can creep up on you or anyone in your life and I promise it’s not worth it.”

You listened. You wanted to protect your bubble for as long as you could and you knew that allowing that outside noise into your life would do more harm than good. 

&&

You were woken up in the middle of the night by three rapid knocks at your front door. It startled you at first. It was too late at night for it to be someone you were expecting but there was also something soothing about your walk to the door. Your stomach filled with butterflies and anticipation, like your body knew who always knocked like that no matter what the situation. And when you opened your front door and saw Harry in front of you, slightly disheveled and clearly drunk from whatever bender he was on.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” You tried to hide the concern in your voice but knew you were doing a shit job at it.

``Ve been drinking at the bar across the street everyday waiting for you… walked over here a few times, s’just the first time I’ve made it up the steps. Think your neighbors finally took pity on me and let me up.” He was slurring his words and talking at a faster speed than usual, which were tell-tale tell signs since you were younger that he had a bit too much to drink and was probably going to regret whatever he was saying in the morning.

“You should come in.” You said making room for him as you opened the door wider, Harry stumbled his way inside. He was wearing a white button down and some brown trousers, his hair had grown out since the last time you saw him and the facial hair that you always loved was growing out too.

The silence in the room was heavy, the last time he was here everything felt natural. You were in a routine of dating, splitting time between your two homes, dinner dates, movie nights that you never made it past the first 30 minutes of any movie before your hands found their way to each other. The comfort Harry felt in your space was still there as he made his way into the kitchen, opening the right cupboard to grab two cups and plates.

“Making us a cheese toastie, you always loved a cheese toastie after a night out with a glass of milk.” Harry spoke before you could question him.

“Not sure if you’re that far gone but I didn’t go out.” You laugh as you watch him open your fridge for the ingredients. All the build up in your head of what the first time you would see Harry would be like suddenly disappeared. He was your Harry and no bump in the road was going to change that.

“S’gues I’ll just have both of them then?” He said.

“And leave me here to starve?” You walked across the kitchen island that you were standing at and took the pan out the dishwasher for him.

“You’ve always said you liked to watch me eat.” Harry teases you for a drunken confession you made years ago after a night out. You ordered in some burgers and fries and you made the mistake of telling him it was turning you on.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you watched him make a couple cheese toasties. You poured each of you a glass of almond milk and walked over to the coffee table, opting to eat while sitting on the floor. He was sobering up with each bite. You watched him eat, taking all that you missed in the last month. His skin was paler than you remembered, a sign that he hadn’t been out as much as you anticipated.

“Did you come here just for some food?” You broke the silence in the room. It was nice pretending that you didn’t just go over a month without speaking and now he was turning up after a few drinks to your front door.

“Obviously not,” Harry moves his body closer to yours placing his hands on your thighs - the familiar feeling of comfort in all of this.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Can we wait?” He asked his green eyes, finding yours, the familiar look and feeling of reassurance and comfort you always felt when he looked at you. You had come a long way from him not being able to look at you as you left the pub that night. “We have the rest of our lives to talk.” He whispered in your ear before pulling back and meeting your eyes again.

“I just want to say I’m sorry and I love you and I’m grateful that you’re here. You don’t know how many times I wanted to pick up the phone but thought you were just done with me and I don’t know how lucky I got to have someone like you,” you pause to take a breath, “I’m just so sorry.”

Harry leaned in closer and responded with a kiss. Your arms wrapped around him as Harry moves his to the back of your legs and thighs moving you so you’re now straddling his lap. Your mouth moved in a way that was so familiar, “I’ve missed this so much,” Harry said as he kissed down your neck, whispering how beautiful you are and how many nights he wished he would’ve just come over to yours. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you,” the roughness in his voice sends a flutter through your entire body.

“Hmm,” you quirk a brow at him.

A small smile on his face, as he pulls up your shirt and you help him take it off. Harry pauses for a second, repositioning you so you are now sitting down and he is in front of you, slowly working his way down from your lips to your neck before cupping your breasts and moving his mouth down your chest as he sucks on your nipple. Your slow moans filling up the room. You had a lot to talk about and this was always his way of feeling close to you and letting his guard down. And it was working. Your arousal grew as he continued to lick and suck up and down your chest. You squeezed your legs together in anticipation and it lit a spark into Harry as he moved down your body to where you wanted him most.

Harry pulls down your underwear and slips his thumb where you need him most circling your clit. You push your hands into his hair pulling the front ends away from his face so you can really see him work on you. He moves his thumb faster before shifting his to slip two fingers inside you. You close your eyes as you shift your body to adjust to the sensation. The feeling of comfort, arousal and home all wrapped into one. This was more than just sex with Harry - he was communicating all of his feelings for you through his slow and steady actions. The primal way he was watching how your body reacted to him. Always putting in the work for you before thinking about himself.

“Harry…” you moan.

“Missed that sound.” Harry mumbled as he continued working his fingers inside of you before moving down to find his mouth onto your center. You tightened the grip on his hair - pulling and tugging as he sucks and licks you into your first orgasm. Watching him working you up is turning him on -- your hands moving from his hair to his own waist, unzipping his pants and watching him grow - the more he was making you feel good it was making him feel better.

And that was the rest of your night, your bodies saying all the things that you couldn’t yet. The way you ached for him and he ached for you. As you drifted to sleep in Harry’s arms, you knew that no matter the distance and time apart you both knew this is was worth fighting for.

&&

You woke up the next morning to a familiar song playing throughout the house.

Should I try to hide

The way I feel inside

My heart for you?

Would you say that you

Would you try to love me too?

You walked downstairs and found Harry in nothing but his briefs, coffee brewing in the coffee maker with a stack of pancakes. A view that you were used to, a sense of calm and home.

“Morning!”

“What’s all this?” You questioned as you walked over to him and planted a kiss on his lips.

“M’just making breakfast for my girl.”

You quirked a brow at him, “I could get used to this, maybe I should reject you more often if it comes with these types of perks.” you teased.

“Ha, ha, very funny…” Harry deadpanned before breaking into a bit of laughter himself.

You spent the morning enjoying each other’s company and the breakfast feast that he made before spending the rest of the day putting all your cards on the table. Harry was going to reroute his tour to make more time to fit your schedule so you weren’t the one that had to constantly rearrange yourself to fit into his. You were going to move into his at the end of your lease. You created a plan on And most importantly, you talked about how a ring and a wedding was never the end goal for you.

“My goal has always just been you,” Harry finished your sentence before you could.

And for you, it’s always just been Harry.

[miss-tc-nova]

Safe Space - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

I actually had a different idea for this, but that's not done yet, so have this kinda cute one.

Premise: Azul can't find his darling

Words: 507

~~~~~

               “Jade.”

               The tall eel looks back from his work behind the counter. “Yes, Azul?”

               “Have you seen my darling?”

               He thinks for a moment. “Yes, I believe about an hour ago there was quite a lot of shouting and stomping.”

               “Excuse me? What for?”

               “I believe it had to do with an argument with Ace Trappola and perhaps a failed assignment. But worry not, I was on standby through the entire ordeal to prevent any violence.”

               “They were arguing in my lounge?” Azul’s head shakes. “Never mind. Thank you for your assistance.”

               Azul’s been on a manhunt since class let out in search of the prefect he was meant to meet up with. Quite eager for the appointment, Azul ensured he was at the library twenty minutes early. That was two hours ago and neither text nor phone calls have been answered by the first year. He’s searched the entire campus as well as Ramshackle. It was only when he ran into Deuce when he learned that his beloved was last seen heading for the Hall of Mirrors.

               Now that he’s here, walking the halls of Octavinelle, he scolds himself for not remembering that his sweetheart has a key to his room. On the other hand, the thought that his room would become a refuge makes the octo mer somewhat prideful.

               And then nervous. It’s his room. There’s someone in his room without him there, possibly discovering all his embarrassing secrets. Suddenly his feet move a little faster. By the time Azul’s room within reach, the door is nearly slammed open.

               But it’s empty. There’s no one in his room. In fact, it looks just as he left it. Almost. Beside the door are a pair of shoes that definitely aren’t his and on the bench at the end of his bed sits a school bag, also not his. To top it off, both his blanket and pillow are missing.

            ��  “Darling?” His voice is soft but steady, as if he expects a surprise. “Are you here?”

               There’s no answer. Azul steps inside, closing the door as he scratches his head. Ambling around the bed, he opens the closet—just clothes inside. He checks under his desk—no, he’s not crazy, no one’s there. Perhaps someone is under the bed—this is getting silly now.

               Then his eye catches the relic in the corner. It’s both his bane and his comfort. He hasn’t even used it since his first year, but just its presence gives him some semblance of reassurance. Having to explain it always gives him anxiety though. It’s not even common among merfolk, let alone land dwellers and he’s always dreaded having to explain it. Still, something tells him to check it.

               Creeping closer, Azul’s breath catches in his chest. His heart just might stop as he leans over the edge.

               There, using his pillow, wrapped snuggly in his blanket, fast asleep in his octopus pot, is his beloved.

               For a moment, Azul just stares, his nerves melting. First things first, his phone captures the moment for him to fawn over later. With his memento secure, Azul rests his head against his hand, staring down at his beautiful, adorable prefect with a sense of serenity.

               His safe space has been compromised, but in this case, he doesn’t mind sharing.

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist