#(i will say i was a band kid so not a guard kid but guard counts as band so i know a fair amount just not specifics)

[steddieficrec]

Very Long Fic Recs

(almost as long as Eddie's tongue)

however wild by Ayes, itskleo

(10/10 I 102,215 I Explicit)

Prince Steve has always been told to stay out of the forest. And he does… when he’s awake.

Keep it Steady, Eddie by outofmygourd

(16/16 I 104,812 I Explicit)

Eddie Munson doesn't mind working at the Family Video Store. It's a nice sense of normalcy (not to mention money) and he gets to see Robin more because of it. However, between working together and sharing the same best friend, he's also been seeing a lot more of Steve Harrington.

He wants nothing more than to enjoy mindless fun with his friends now that everything with Vecna is over, but Eddie's finding it hard to move on from what happened. Even if the strangest thing in his life right now was simply the fact he and Steve Harrington might actually be friends.

(if someone asked me at the end) i'd tell them put me back in by Library_of_Gage

(40/40 I 110,024 I Explicit)

Steve is a modern boy dealing with modern problems: existential dread, anger at a world he can't fix, and the inescapable feeling that he'll never be able to name what's missing from his life. And then his parents buy him a house, an alternate dimension in desperate need of help yeets him to the 80s to fix things, and he falls in love with a maybe-murderer-but-not-really metalhead along the way.

Bad Omens by Lihhelsing

(15/15 I 110,320 I Explicit)

In the 80s, Eddie Munson and Corroded Coffin rose to fame under H&H Records management. With two successful albums, the band started their second national tour in 1989 and seemed to be on the path to becoming one of the greatest metal bands of all time. But something went wrong somewhere, and the tour was cut short when Corroded Coffin announced an unexpected hiatus.

No one knows exactly what happened, and the members of the band were radio silent. Until now.

After almost 8 years, Corroded Coffin is back and things seem to be good, or so Eddie Munson hopes, because between making music again and hitting the road knowing very well how the tour life was partially responsible for his breakdown in 1989, he needs things to be good.

And as if things weren't complicated enough, Eddie seemed to think it would be a good idea to invite his ex-boyfriend -and the love of his life– to tour with them, now that child star and famous pop singer Steve Harrington wanted to broaden his musical horizons.

It's like Eddie Munson is asking for something to go wrong as he tries to balance his new tour, his rocky relationship with his ex and the fact that all his past secrets don't seem to want to stay hidden.

Sing if You're Glad to be Gay by VTHX (V_Haley)

(25/25 I 120,520 I Explicit)

Months before Will Byers disappears, Steve Harrington is outed, bullied, and shunned. Eddie would be overjoyed to find another gay kid in Hawkins if it wasn't THAT gay kid.

you remind me of someone (it's probably you) by katdeerly

(15/15 I 136,736 I Mature)

‘I'm sure I'll see you soon no matter what.’

Steve startles. ‘What? Why?’

‘You're marrying my sister, aren't you?’ There's something guarded, almost teasing in Eddie’s tone and when their eyes meet, Steve can’t read the truth. It might be disappointment; it might be hope.

‘Oh, no, no, I'm not – not her fiancé. That was a misunderstanding.’

Take the Money and Run by thisapplepielife

(22/22 I 143,931 I Explicit)

“Rules. Like, there’ll be no eating in my car. You’re not driving my car. No heavy metal,” Steve keeps listing, “you’re not picking up women and fucking them in m-”

“I'll try to control myself,” Eddie interrupts with a quip, a smirk. Fucking girls in Steve’s car, or anywhere else for that matter, isn’t going to be an issue, unless something pretty fundamental shifts in him.

Steve continues, completely ignoring Eddie, “You’ll wipe your feet. You’re not dragging dirt all over my car. No hitchhikers. No cutesy road games. No smoking in the car. I’m not paying for all the gas.”

“Ass, gas or grass, got it,” Eddie says, like he's taking this very seriously. He is not taking this seriously.

Or: Road trip!

Money, Power, Glory by StrangerThings1975

(26/26 I 292,494 I Explicit)

Steve starts paying Eddie for sex once he discovers that Eddie doesn't just deal drugs and perform at the Hideout.

(Steve doesn't mean to fall in love with him, but he can’t help himself.)

[homunculus-argument]

I would not say that I'm a scary-looking guy. I don't dress particularly alt, just pretty basic dad rock band tees, black skinny jeans with a chain, plenty of assorted jewellery and accessories, dyed black hair and seven piercings around my head, but this is apparently enough to make old people give me A Very Long Stare. But this post isn't about them.

Today I was walking homeward, and there were these two kids (about 8-10 years old?) standing in the middle of the road. They stood there talking, one was on foot but the other one had a pastel pink bicycle, which she had apparently unintentionally stationed horizontally across the walkpath, so the two effectively blocked the whole way. So I kept my eyes on the girl with the bike the whole time I approached their happenstance roadblock.

Now, the finnish culture is both a high context culture and an introvert culture, which means that finns regularly behave like weird animals. A prolonged, maintained eye contact directed at a stranger is a mild, but certainly clear, aggressive gesture. Not as outright hostile as verbally telling them that they're in peoples' way and should move, but intended as a stern gesture to correct them anyhow. The way that dogs sometimes do that very specific low growl at misbehaving puppies, just to say "I have no intention to hurt you, but you better cut that shit out."

And the girl with the bike kept eye contact with me the whole time I approached, while pulling her bike out of the way in a pointedly slow, deliberate way. Looking down or away and moving the bike hastily would have been an apologetic gesture, and this kid clearly wanted to let me know she wasn't yielding just because she did, in fact, move out of the way. And once I was just about to pass, she said "hi?" to me, in a mildly confused and disgusted tone. Not confused by my intentions themselves, but by my evident audacity.

While this may not seem like anything odd, as I mentioned earlier, finns are an introvert culture. Talking to strangers unprompted is rude, a downright hostile act, more aggressive than prolonged eye contact but not as hostile as physically touching a stranger without warning. And I was caught off-guard so badly that I just said "hi" back to her while not slowing down as I passed them.

So just this week, I've had two random old people stare at me like they've correctly identified me as a Manmade Horror Beyond Their Comprehension, and this little girl dressed head to toe in pastels with a pink bike and sparkling unicorn backpack just glared right back at me and stared me down like Can I Fucking Help You.

[bullet-prooflove]

Masochist: Jack Abbott x Reader (The Pitt)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty

Jack’s not suicidal, not really.

It may look like that when he’s standing on the edge of the building staring down at the sidewalk but the truth is he’s just trying to get himself to feel something. Anything.

Fear, anger, joy.

He’d welcome any of them after a night in The Pitt. He’s worked hard to compartmentalise, to shut down his emotions so he can do the gruelling shit that needs to be done. The problem with that is regulation because turning them back on…

Well, he hasn’t figured that part out yet.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He curses as a sharp pinch on his ass stabs through the numbness. He turns to see you standing there on the opposite side of the guard rail ready to do it again before he slaps your hand away.

“I’m good! I’m good!” He snaps at you, climbing back over to the safe side of the railing.

“You are now.” You say with a smirk that should piss him off, instead it lightens him because you’ve just brought him back from the brink. Again.

A little snap of pain like that, it’s enough to jumpstart his synapses, get him functioning. He used to do it himself with a rubber band but then he got used to it. Now you surprise him with it, a little pinch on his ass whenever he loses himself to the grind.

He’s a masochist at heart, he told you when you first met. He hasn’t disproven it yet.

“If you weren’t so fucking beautiful…” He mutters, his arm wrapping around your waist he draws you to him. The scent of your perfume floods his system, something light and floral, reminding him of the first bursts of daffodils in the spring. He buries his face into the curve of your throat, drinking it in as he holds you close, savouring the softness of your curves. “Tell me you’re getting off shift so I can take you home and fuck you in our bed.”

This is the other thing that happens when you pinch him, that surge of adrenaline, it gets him hard, makes him wanting and after twelve hours in this hell hole, he’s very wanting.

“Two more hours.” You tell him and he huffs against your throat in displeasure. Your hand winds through his hair, grasping at the roots, tugging as you tilt his head back to meet your gaze. He hisses at the sensation, every single nerve ending in his body lighting up like the Fourth of July. He wasn’t kidding about the masochist thing, he’s always needed a little pain to get him off. “Go home, take a shower and be in bed by the time I get back. I’ll ravage you then.”

“Christ.” He whines, his hands squeezing your hips as you release your grip on his hair. “Why will you never let me fuck you on the roof?”

The sound of helicopter blades sounds in the distance and you both glance up to see the red and white chopper making it’s way towards the helipad you’re standing on.

“That.” You say, pointing at the rescue vehicle. “That is why I don’t let you fuck me on the roof.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[minlcna]

mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to take requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance. 

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone. 

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance. 

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough. 

"Silence," she called with strictness. 

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a 

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued. 

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile. 

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling. 

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row. 

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice. 

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled. 

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George. 

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close. 

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions. 

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall. 

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position. 

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair. 

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy. 

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew. 

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock. 

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part. 

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk. 

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse. 

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes. 

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying. 

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed. 

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing. 

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic. 

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk. 

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look. 

"What?" he asked incredulously. 

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting. 

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously. 

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts. 

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly. 

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re clever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating. 

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader (Part 4)

"What?" You asked, your voice quiet and laced with a hint of snark, just as annoyed as you were cautious of them.

There you were, pressed against the big, red armchair they had placed you in, staring back at the four familiars with a mix of annoyance and fear, eyes never leaving their intimidating figures.

Yes, they were your familiars now, but... it's a big adjustment to get used to so quickly.

You were still cautious, that's to be expected...

"We're going to have a talk." Price says simply, though his serious expression just makes you sink deeper into the armchair. "It's a bit overdue, but we wanted to ensure the bond had settled nicely before addressing any of this."

His comment makes you glance down at yourself, glaring at the gold bands still snugly wrapped around your arms and legs.

"First of all, let's start by the most important part. We can see you're not a part of any Coven. Where did you use to live, doll?"

You huff slightly at his question, since you were pretty sure Kyle and Johnny already told him about your little conversation outside.

And, by the way, why is this jerk speaking in the past?? 'Used to live'??

"I live with my grandpa at the edge of this forest..." You answer quietly, still clearly annoyed, but toning it down to avoid being rude to these ancient beings.

Your comment made Johnny scowl once again, huffing in annoyance as he crossed his arms quietly in the corner of the couch. Kyle still wore a pensive expression, tilting his head slightly as he listened to your words once again. Simon merely cocked an eyebrow, maintaining his relaxed posture as he leaned against the nearest wall. And Price, he simply nodded slowly, a slight frown forming on his face.

"Right..., your grandfather, you say?" John repeats slowly, watching you nod with conviction.

"Witches dinae have 'grandfathers'." Soap grumbled, still pretty much annoyed with your insistance.

"Watch it, Soap." Gaz sneered, slapping the back of his head.

"Ah won't! How do ye want me calm when all I can hear is that a human man kidnapped a baby witch??" The snarl he let out with his words made you flinch back in the armchair, looking between the two of them with hesitant and scared eyes. "A fuckin' man, Gaz! Are ye not worried??"

"The two of you, out."

Silence fell over the room as Soap and Gaz turned to fix Price with piercing stares, their expressions etched with angry defiance, making it painfully clear they had no intention of leaving.

"Do I need to repeat myself, lads?" He snarled, turning to stare back at them with a face you wish you never see directed at you.

"We're leaving." Gaz huffs in controlled anger, getting up from the couch and grabbing Soap so he can pull him by force out of the room.

Soap resisted a little, just a little, but as soon as he saw your scared expression, body pressed firmly against the armchair, he relutantly matched steps with Kyle, leaving the room.

Ghost seized the opportunity, pushing off the wall and walking to the couch to sit beside Price, where the other two were sitting moments ago. He was bigger than the others too, such a large man that was impossible not to be overwhelmed by his presence. Then again, the one they call their captain, Price, is just as bad when it came to intimidation.

"Sorry about them, doll," John drawled in his gruff voice, though it still carried a gentle undertone. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, bringing himself almost to your eye level. "Those animals don't know how to behave in front of a kid. But don't blame them too much, first time actually interacting with a witchling."

"Talk a bit more about your gran'father, won’t ya?" Ghost rumbles gruffly, his voice so much like Price’s that it catches you slightly off guard for a few moments, just blinking slowly in his direction.

Now that you were alone with these two, the atmosphere felt completely different compared to being alone with Soap and Gaz. Sure, they were all powerful and intimidating, but these two were in a league of their own—much scarier, more imposing. Maybe it was the way Price spoke with unshakable authority, or the way Ghost sat manspreading on the couch, leaning back as if he couldn’t care less, his face almost entirely masked except for his piercing eyes.

It was intimidating, and it made you freeze up in fear of saying something wrong. You weren't sure why they had taken such interest in your grandfather, or why Soap keep insisting 'Witches can't have one', but you knew something was wrong here (which isn't impossible considering that you knew basically nothing about real witches).

"He's... he's just... it's just my grandfather..." You mumble quietly, keeping your eyes on your own lap, away from their intense expressions.

"I understand tha', but could you talk a bit more about 'im?" Ghost says simply, slowly, leaning forward on the couch similar to Price's position. "Human, innit?"

"A-Ah, yes.... he's... he's nice, mhm... short too, but that's because he's already old..." You were still speaking quietly, but you felt a bit more confident talking about your grandfather, eyes slowly going up. "He's... 79 this year, but he doesn't like celebrating his birthday... says it makes him feel old...... ah, he always lived around here, never liked living too close to people. Likes nature and all that..." You shrugh a little, not really knowing what they wanted to hear.

You're pretty sure your grandpa is a very simple old man; There's no reason for them to be so cautious. Even if that guy was some kind of criminal in his younger years, he's surely no threat at all now a days, not when he's already this old and thin.

You feel the need to voice your confusion, this is going too far.

"He's... very normal, I don't understand what's... the problem here..." You mumble, frowning a little as you finally gather enough courage to stare back at them.

"How much do you know about witches, darlin'?" Prices asks back, still pretty much patient and calm.

That's good. Except that he's still not actually answering your damn question-!

"Dunno, not a lot." You grumble back, shruging once again. "What does that has to do with my grandpa? He's human."

"You see, witchling… witches don’t usually live with humans," Ghost says softly, as if trying not to offend you.

You continue to stare at him with an impassive expression. You’d already deduced as much, but you still didn’t see the problem here.

Price lets out a small chuckle at your confusion, shaking his head slightly.

"What we're trying to say, kid, is that it's pretty rare to find a witch not living in a Coven. It's dangerous for witchlings to be alone. And… the only male interaction a witchling should have is with other witches' familiars."

The way he speaks is surprisingly soft, but it’s clear he’s trying to clue you in on the fact that your situation is highly unusual. In truth, he also seemed a bit unsettled by the idea of a witchling like you living with a man. They were all uncomfortable with it, actually—trying their best to remain at least somewhat civilized, resisting the urge to immediately lock you away in their arms and ensure no one ever got close to you again.

"Ah… so all witches are women?" You had sort of deduced that a while ago from things your grandfather had said, but it was good to finally have confirmation.

Their reactions, however, told you that maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. Ghost, his face mostly hidden beneath a skull balaclava, immediately widened his eyes in surprise, his body going rigid on the couch. And Price, who had been wearing a faint smile, dropped it instantly, his expression turning more intense than ever.

They spent a few moments in complete silence, simply staring at you, before Price finally spoke again, his voice cautious.

"…Yes, witches are all female." He then closes his eyes, seemingly gathering strength and patience—or something like that. "I guess that's to be expected... you're clearly new to this."

"And all familiars are male." Ghost adds, now calmer, his eyes serene and his posture more relaxed.

You blink slowly at that, nodding a bit. That's new information for you, so does that mean...?

"So... witches have babies with familiars?" You ask innocently, tilting your head slightly to the side.

And once again, their entire demeanor shifts as they freeze, shocked expressions plastered across their faces (or, the most shocked their mostly expresionless faces went).

"YA GOT TO BE FACKIN' KIDDIN' MAH!" Soap yelled from somewhere deeper in the house, causing you to sit up straighter in alarm—though the quick sound of Kyle shutting him up with a slap quickly followed.

Was that a stupid question to ask?? What's with these reactions??

"No, no, witches do not have kids with familiars." Price quickly interjected with a firm voice, his brow furrowed in a mix of concern and disgust.

"Price, it's a baby witch…" Ghost reasons, still a bit rattled but mostly unbothered by now. "She doesn't know any better."

"Then we'll teach her," Price says with finality, getting up from the couch in one fluid motion and approaching your small curled up form on the armchair.

You let out a small, indignant sound as he picked you up effortlessly in his arms, patting your back gently to calm you down. One of his hands went to caress the gold bracelet on your arm, a satisfied smile crossing his face, as if reminding himself he had a witch once again.

"Mhm, me and Kyle will take our time teaching her everything she needs to know. Gonna be a proper witch, aren't you, witchling?" Ghost rumbles gently, his voice so low it almost sounds like a growl.

You watch him get up from the couch to stand by Price, your gaze lifting to meet his face. You’re just a little alarmed as he rubs your cheek with the back of his gloved hand in a gentle caress, rumbling quietly from his chest.

You keep forgetting these beings are not humans like you're used to.

"Why cannae be a teacher too?" Soap drawls from where he’s now leaning against the farthest wall, Kyle just smiling in amusement as he stands by his side, arms crossed.

"You're not cut for it." Ghost deadpans back, still rubbing your cheek with the back of his hand.

"Ah'll let ya knae I'm totally cut for it." He smiles back deviously, approaching you all with confident steps and an amused Kyle right behind him. "Right, lassie?"

Ghost rolls his eyes slightly at Soap's antics, hovering close to you as Price gently lowers you to the ground, in case you lose your balance.

"I still don't get it..." You mumble, a bit confused as you look up at their faces. "And... my grandpa... he must be worried about me... I-I have to... go back..."

Johnny immediately frowns at your words, approaching you instinctively like you were gonna run away any second now, but Price nods slightly, pensive.

"Actually, that's a good idea. Let's meet this "grandpa" of yours."

[missmeringuemorgue]

Hello and Welcome!

In this PAC reading we will find out hints about your Future Spouse! How exciting! For those who want to listen to this PAC in audio format, be sure to check this out!🥰

My best wishes and onto the reading…

Group 1

1. I see something related to Ghostbusters so they could be into ghosts and the paranormal, perhaps even ghost hunting. I’m getting a sense of someone who is adventurous. Your future spouse would definitely want to go on a ghost hunting adventure!

2. I see they could have dark hair. They are also fit - might go to the gym. Could have tattoos. Might have a platform online, like YouTube or Twitch. The letters “C”, “R”, “B”, also the letter “S”. Might listen to rap.

3. You might not like them at first or they aren’t your usual type. This is someone who isn’t what they appear to be and what I mean by that is they might put on a mask when meeting new people and it might take some time to get to know them. Perhaps, you will see right through this mask and will not like them hiding their true face. I’m not saying that they are two-faced or anything like that. They are more like guarded which makes me think they have been hurt in the past when opening up too soon, so they wear this mask in order not to get hurt again.

4. Could be from Europe or a small country. I’m getting a sense of someone returning home, so they might not live in their birth country or just travels a lot outside of it.

5. Could have a sibling of the same gender.

6. There’s just a lot of spirits around them and the theme keeps popping up which makes me think they are well spiritually protected. If you ever wondered how they are doing, just know that whatever happens is happening FOR them not TO them. Also they could be good at manifesting.

7. They could be either your Twin Flame or Soulmate (if you believe in those things), because I see a strong spiritual bond between you.

8. This is someone you’ll likely have kids with.

9. Some of you need to hear that you aren’t delusional. If there’s someone you feel a strong pull towards, they might be your person. Put logic aside and trust your intuition on this.

10. Something related to Shrek, Puss in Boots to be specific. So cats might be significant or it could also mean that like I’ve mentioned earlier you wouldn’t like your future spouse at first or you might even be rivals, enemies to lovers kind of trope if you will.

11. Edgar Allan Poe keeps popping up, so they might read some of his poetry to you and that’s one of the ways you’ll know it’s them. Speaking of poetry, they might be a poet as well. They might just write their poems on paper or they might create music from it.

12. Twenty One Pilots might be significant. So they might like this band and listen a lot to them, also when with them you could hear a Twenty One Pilots song and that’s yet another way to help you realise who is your future spouse.

13. Snow White or Disney Princesses in general might be significant. I’m getting a sense of something forbidden, and what I mean by that is your love might seem forbidden in some way, like maybe you come from different backgrounds or cultures and not all people agree with your decision to be together. Also I feel distance, so you might be from different countries too.

14. I’m getting a sense of ancient civilisations and it feels like you have been searching for this person since the beginning of time. You could always tell that something was missing but couldn’t figure out what. It’s this. It’s them. When you are reunited, everything will make sense. It will make sense why it didn’t work out with someone different; everything will fall into place.

Group 2

1. Elon Musk comes to mind, so they might be the CEO type and they could be well-off, perhaps even rich. Also they could be into robots/computers/technology in general, I’m also hearing video games, specifically Doom, Counter Strike and Call of Duty. They might also drive a Tesla/their dream car is a Tesla or they just want to buy it for whatever reason.

2. I see teddy bears, so they might have a good, kind heart and are a true softie. They give great hugs and they might have a chubbier body type, well proportioned though. Also Valentine’s Day might be significant.

3. The letters “G” and “J” or more specifically the names “George” and “James”.

4. Germany/Austria might be significant, so they might be from one of these countries or you might be from one of them which would be a confirmation this reading is for you.

5. Water sign vibes: they could have a lot of water placements in their birth chart or it could also mean they have a lot of qualities to water signs.

6. I see paintings, so they might be into museums and art, also they could be studying or studied something related to art.

7. I see pearls and the sea: again with the water energy. This could mean they are in tune with their emotions, and I’m also hearing when they get angry it feels like a mountainous sea with rain and lightning above, it’s like you can see it in their eyes. They don’t try to hide their emotions.

8. I have to keep this pg rated, but maybe some of you need to hear this: I heard they are great in the sexy department. They could have a Leo Venus, but not necessarily.

9. I see Cupids and Angels, so they might seem too good to be true when you meet them but trust me they are for you and they are here to stay. Also you could be mesmerised by them on your first meeting. It’s like they captured your heart the moment they walked into the room.

10. Opera, movie theatres or theatres in general might be significant, like you could meet them there or they might invite you to see something in a theatre. Also they could be an actor. The letter “E” and specifically the names “Evan”, “Eva” or “Evelin”

11. Something related to islands and pirates. They might be the “bad boy”, “bad girl” type. Not in a bad way but they just always get what they want. But more importantly they always know what they want so you won’t have to question their actions or feelings because their actions match their words.

12. Good at noticing details. Very diligent. I see them never forgetting special occasions, they might even put them in their calendar so they don’t forget. Might like to surprise you with a home cooked meal or “just because” and “this reminded me of you” gifts. Gift giving might be their love language.

13. Countryside, cottage core, gathering berries and mushrooms: this might be their vibe, they might live in the countryside or they would love to own a home outside of town.

14. Might wear glasses, might own a cat, wants to own a cat or cats are in one way or another connected to your person or your relationship with them.

Group 3

1. I feel a safe place, so they could be your safe haven. You could also have a safe place where you go in your dreams or during astral travel, you could meet them there. They might have also created a safe space for you to be and to protect you during sleep or astral projection.

2. I see cherries, blueberries and the forest, so they might live near a forest, they like to go on walks in the forest, you could meet somewhere with a lot of nature or near a forest or it simply means they just love nature.

3. Very intelligent, they could be the brains behind many projects. Also they could like old cartoons, like cartoons from the 90s or early 00s. Scooby-Doo could be significant. Also they could like solving problems, like they could be a lawyer or somehow related to law even.

4. They could have darker features and what I mean by that is they could have darker skin, darker hair, darker eyes or something like that. Also Ibiza/Maldives could be significant.

5. I feel they like to party a lot or at least did in their early years. I’m not saying they are old but they could have had a party animal past. I don’t feel them this way anymore though. They could party here and there but not as intensively as they did in the past.

6. The number “nine” could be significant, so it could be their life path number or it could be your life path number which would be a confirmation this group is definitely for you. Also they could be ending a toxic cycle right now, like a toxic relationship or an addiction of some sort. This addiction could be related to them partying as I mentioned earlier.

7. I see letters or messages of some sort, so it could mean they will contact you soon or they have contacted you in the past with a letter. I feel it could have been a small letter, like the ones you exchange during class when the teacher doesn’t notice.

8. The seven wonders of the world might be significant, like you could meet them at one of them or something like that. Also you could meet while travelling whether it be a long or short trip.

9. Your future spouse has a great fashion sense, almost iconic as some would say. They also could be into modelling or have dreamed of becoming a model. Very stylish, indeed.

10. Lady GaGa could be significant, like you could meet while Lady GaGa’s song is playing or while with them, you might hear a Lady GaGa’s song and that will be a confirmation.

11. The reoccurring theme of numbers keeps popping up, so they might as well be somehow connected to various numbers, like they could have their own business, they could be an accountant or an office worker, also the show “Office” and Britney Spears might be significant.

12. Asia, more specifically Korea might be somehow connected either to them or to you. I’m hearing your love story could be similar to the love stories in KDramas.

13. I keep seeing dogs, so they definitely could be a dog person or perhaps even have a dog. Also this could signify loyalty and friendship, so you might as well be friends first before you start dating.

14. There’s lots of symbolism to music and musicians, so your future spouse might be a musician or is somehow related to the music industry.

[literaila]

i suddenly thought of this:

satoru, a 6'3 man, probably lays down on top of reader...

“satoru, get off,” you say, but it sounds more like a bad receiver. you basically can’t breathe.

“sorry?” he hums. “did you say something?”

“i’m going to—“ a puff of breath and your hands trying to push him off. “die.”

“but you’re so comfy. like a memory foam mattress.”

“was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“why are you so warm?”

“i won’t be warm when i die from suffocation.”

he lifts his head to look at your face, your glaring eyes and flushed face. “you look like you’re breathing,” he adjusts himself so his head is against your chest. “oh, yup! there it is.”

“my impending doom?”

“your heart. healthy as a horse.”

“you just keep insulting me with these comparisons.”

“you’re a proudly bred mare. the prettiest of the… band? stable?”

“herd,” you say, huffing again. “now i’m actually going to die out of spite.”

“a dramatic horse,” he adds, pretending like he isn’t actively plotting against you.

“make sure to move my corpse off the couch. i don’t want the kids to see me dead.”

“if you die, i’m dying with you. megumi could probably get his dogs to eat us”

“that’s disgusting,” you say, laughing just a little. “don’t talk about that.”

“you’re the one who brought it up.”

“cause you’re crushing me!”

“but isn’t that a nice way to go?”

“i’ve already planned my death,” you tell him, trying to pull his hair. but he’s got your hands pinned. “i’m going to be executed after i murder you.”

“uh-huh,” he hums, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “let me know how that goes.”

“satoru,” you whine, but you’ve given up the fight. “you know you’re basically a giant, right?”

he shakes his head against you.

“a giant psychopath,” you add, “with tentacles for hands.”

“should we test that out?”

“shut up. get off of me.”

“ahh, can’t hear you. i’m sleeping.”

“oh great,” you deadpan. “it’ll be so much easier to kill you in your sleep.”

he pretends to snore, but you can feel his teeth against your neck as he grins.

“you shouldn’t let your guard down around me, you know?”

“i think this would be a nice way to die,” he says, instead of answering. “as long as you’re the one murdering me, of course.”

“oh, of course.”

[im-not-short-i-swear]

As a choir kid myself, i had a funny ass thought that came to mind regarding Alfred unintentionally forcing the kids to join some sort of music elective.

~~~~~~

When Dick sits down and asks Bruce for his thoughts on an elective Alfred casually goes “oh, i would love to go to your event/concert/play”

Dick hears this and chooses Theater. Alfred goes to EVERY play, Bruce only misses 2 plays because a villain is near by and he will not let them ruin his son’s play.

Jason, as much as he loves the classics, chooses some music elective. Because “I’m not Dick.” And even then Alfred makes it to every concert and Bruce also only misses a few meetings to deal with JLA stuff that he can’t miss.

Edit: Jason is a choir kid. He will not be like Dick, he will not do theater. But he loves musicals too much, so choir it is.

Unsure what the others would pick. But i feel like Damian would also choose Theater because “Richard will not stop saying i have to follow in his footsteps” even though he was going to pick that regardless. Because he in fact wants to follow in Dick’s footsteps and be a theater kid.

Edit: Damian gets more lead roles than Dick did. Dick is proud and not at all upset that Damian is a better actor.

Feel free to add more~

Edit: Addition from @leechlets as well as some extra from me

Tim is a band kid. Specifically Jazz band and concert band. (He hates marching band because he is always too sleepy)

Tim is smart, he learns every instrument possible. Trumpet, sax, tuba. He will play it all. Edit: Tim manages to be first chair for trumpet, sax, flute and clarinet.

Duke is the first triple threat. Choir, band and theater. Lowkey makes everyone else jealous.

Cass does color guard. So Alfred is at every football game. It does not matter if it’s a home game or an away game.

[nxzz-skz]

'guitar' strings attached~

ᯓ★ rockstar!hyunjin x journalist!reader

ᯓ★ warnings: angst, hyunjin is cold at first, kissing, fluff

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

The first time you met Hyunjin, it was overwhelming to say the least. It's not just his striking looks-the sharp jawline, the dark hair loosely coming down to the nape of his neck, or the way he moves and dances with the effortless grace of someone who belongs on a stage. It's his presence, cold and magnetic, like an unreachable star way up above that you can't stop staring at.

You're standing in the backstage dressing room of Stray Kids' sold-out concert in Busan, your laminated pass clutched tightly in clammy hands. The incredible performance still lingers in your veins like adrenaline, the echo of screaming fans and thunderous music reverberating in your chest. When the door opens and the band walks in, your breath catches.

Bangchan is the first to greet you, his energy warm and inviting. "You're the one who wrote that article about our lyrics, right?" he asks, his dimpled smile comforting. "Hyunjin wouldn't shut up about it."

Your gaze instinctively shifts to Hyunjin. He's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his phone in hand, pretending not to notice you. But when Chan mentions him, his head jerks up, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet. His expression hardens, and he looks away almost immediately.

“I didn’t—” Hyunjin starts, but he stops himself, the tips of his ears faintly pink. “Don’t exaggerate,” he mutters, brushing past Chan and settling into a seat farthest from you.

You try not to take it personally, but the sting of his dismissiveness lingers.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Despite Hyunjin’s aloofness, your paths seem destined to cross. The article you wrote has gained you some attention in the music journalism world, and your editor secures you another opportunity: an exclusive interview with the band.

The second meeting is no less nerve-wracking than the first. Hyunjin answers your questions with short, measured words, his tone lacking warmth. But there’s something in his eyes—an intensity that makes you feel like he’s trying to read your mind.

It’s not until later that night, after a press event, that you see a different side of him. You step out onto the hotel balcony for some air, and there he is, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a sketchbook in his lap. The soft glow of city lights bathes his face, making him look almost ethereal.

“I didn’t know you draw,” you say softly, hesitant to intrude.

Hyunjin looks up, startled, but he doesn’t close the sketchbook. “It’s just a hobby,” he says after a pause.

You take a tentative step closer. “Can I see?”

For a moment, you think he’s going to refuse, but then he turns the book toward you. The drawing is breathtaking—a city nightscape, so detailed that it looked exactly like the view ahead of you, with delicate lines that seem to pulse with life.

“It’s… beautiful,” you whisper, genuinely awed.

His lips twitch, almost like he’s fighting a smile, but he quickly looks away. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insist, sitting beside him. “Do you use your art for the band’s visuals?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This might be the cover for our next album. If Chan likes it.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that catches you off guard. In this moment, Hyunjin doesn’t feel like the untouchable rockstar the world knows. He feels human—guarded, yes, but achingly human.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

From that night on, something shifts between you. Hyunjin doesn’t suddenly become warm or openly affectionate, but he starts seeking you out in small, unspoken ways. He offers thoughtful answers during interviews, defends your questions when others brush them aside, and once, when you trip over a cable backstage, he’s the first to catch you.

“Be careful,” he murmurs, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment too long.

The walls he’s built around himself don’t crumble all at once, but they begin to crack.

One evening, during the band’s tour in Tokyo, the cracks deepen. The group is out for dinner, and everyone’s relaxed, laughing over drinks. Felix, always the playful one, leans over and grins. “Hyunjin, when are you going to stop brooding and just tell her you like her?”

The table falls silent. Your face burns, and you risk a glance at Hyunjin. His expression is unreadable, but his knuckles whiten as he grips his glass.

“I don’t,” he says stiffly, his voice colder than usual. Without another word, he stands and walks out of the restaurant.

You hesitate for only a moment before following him. You find him outside, leaning against the railing of a bridge that overlooks the city.

“Why do you always act like this?” you ask, your voice trembling with frustration.

“Like what?” he snaps, turning to face you.

“Like you hate me,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Did I do something wrong?”

His expression falters, and for a moment, he looks lost. “You didn’t do anything,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “It’s me. I don’t know how to do this—any of this.”

You take a step closer, your heart pounding. “Do what?”

“Let people in,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been hurt before. It’s easier to keep everyone at a distance.”

Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his words. “Not everyone’s going to hurt you, Hyunjin.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you. His hands cup your face, and his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s both desperate and tender.

It’s like the world fades away. His mouth moves against yours with a mix of urgency and hesitation, as if he’s afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. You kiss him back, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you.

When you finally break apart, his forehead rests against yours, and he exhales shakily. “I’m scared,” he admits.

“So am I,” you whisper. “But I’m here.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

The road ahead isn’t easy. A paparazzi photo of you and Hyunjin together surfaces online, sparking a media frenzy. Fans accuse you of exploiting him, and the backlash threatens both your career and the band’s reputation.

Hyunjin retreats into himself, blaming himself for the chaos. “This is my fault,” he says one night, pacing his hotel room. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Stop pushing me away,” you plead, your voice breaking. “We can get through this together, but not if you keep shutting me out.”

But he doesn’t listen. The walls go back up, and just like that, he’s gone again.

It isn’t until weeks later, after you uncover the real source of a leaked song draft—a disgruntled former crew member—that Hyunjin comes to his senses. He finds you on the rooftop of the studio, sitting alone under the stars.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sitting beside you. “I should’ve trusted you.”

Your throat tightens, but you manage to say, “Yeah, you should’ve.”

He takes your hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. “I’m done running. I’m done being afraid. If you’ll still have me, I want to try. For real this time.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you nod, squeezing his hand. “I never stopped wanting you.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

At the band’s final concert of the tour, Hyunjin surprises everyone by performing Strings Attached. Halfway through, he pulls you onstage, his hand trembling in yours.

“This song is for her,” he says into the microphone, his voice steady despite the roar of the crowd. “For the one who taught me how to feel again.”

Tears stream down your face as he sings, his voice carrying a raw, aching vulnerability that leaves no doubt about his feelings.

When the song ends, he turns to you, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love you,” he whispers, so quietly that only you can hear.

And this time, when you look into his eyes, there’s no trace of the Ice King—only Hyunjin, raw and unguarded, finally letting himself fall.

ᯓ★ reblogs appreciated!

[cigarettehearted]

So Tallchuck Tuesday happened on discord, which is just an excuse to draw Tallman Chilchuck on, you guessed it, Tuesdays.

In need of some narrative coherency, here's what we've got so far:

AU where Laios and Falin's dad hoped Laios would be some sorts of sports player but Laios would rather not

He drops out of college, works a lousy retail job, and essentially lives on Falin and Marcille's couch

Falin recruits folks for a weekly DnD game her fellow lab tech is running, but the game hemorrhages a lot of players for a variety of reasons

Laios' coworker, DanDan, mentions he knows a guy who could fill in and who used to play DnD back in the day.

It's a bit scary at first, since Laios knows of Chilchuck from the union. He's an accomplished professional, intimidating to work with, really good at DnD, and it's kind of a surprise to learn tiny bits of his personal life and go, oh, that is. That is a disaster that walks like a man.

He doesn't like talking about his personal life but the game gets him to let his guard down.

Occasionally he lets some buckwild detail slip out.

Marcille can and will catch it but is not subtle about it and so they've started seating her in his blind spot so he can't see her lose her shit when he says something like

"oh, my daughter likes that band. [motions to senshi's sleep token shirt]" or "yeah, my kid went through a phase where she was really into griffins, so i used to put them in the DnD games I played back then because she'd paint the minis-"

Marcille doesn't have a conspiracy board, but after Game Night, she tends to rope her Touden roomies into a discussion of what they have learned this week

Why are you so obsessed with him, Marcille. She likes mysteries, she says.

Laios meanwhile is very pleased that he gets along better with Chilchuck now. They've settled into this camaraderie and can go out for a friendly drink or joke around with each other at work.

Chilchuck wonders: fellas, is it gay to have some beers with your coworker in the back of his pickup truck and start wondering if you're attracted to men?

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[topthreedetectives]

been thinking about what instruments ace attorney characters would've played as band kids, and i've reached a few conclusions:

original trilogy characters:

miles edgeworth: we already know he used to play the flute so obviously that, i think he would also have learned how to play piano and violin at home. maybe he'd even be in color guard at some point!! then later on, maybe junior year and onwards, he'd be the drum major

phoenix wright: this one was tricky at first but then it hit me - he wanted to sit next to edgeworth in class so he based his decision entirely on miles' (sound familiar?) however, they never actually end up sitting next to each other because phoenix usually gets close to last chair and miles always gets first chair. maybe he joins edgeworth in color guard and ends up really good at it, becoming the captain after a year or two! the idea of him being a drum major with edgeworth is frickin adorable, i'm still unsure about it though. maybe he could help out color guard in his free time? very conflicted about this as i think he would really love being in color guard but also. they would be AMAZING drum majors together. so i'm leaning towards yes on drum major in senior year

larry butz: despite wanting to sit with edgeworth and phoenix, he thought flutes were too "girly" so he tried to learn the saxophone because he thought it would be cool and he'd have girls falling for him (i've witnessed this phenomenon many times). he could NOT make a sound on one without squeaking horrendously, though, so he ended up playing trombone instead after playing trumpet for a bit and being forced to switch because he was WAY. TOO. LOUD. (he was miserable for awhile after being switched each time, he thought he was doing amazing.....) let's be honest, he's a band drop out and switches to art once it becomes an alternative for an art credit. he still watches the band play for nick and edgey at games, though!

maya fey: this was another hard one, but i think she would play saxophone. it just fits!!! some other contenders were percussion (in the pit for marching season) and trombone or baritone

pearl fey: my initial gut reaction was flute, and while i didn't wanna choose something so blatantly obvious, i also can't ignore WHY it's so blatantly obvious. so, flute player it is (occasionally playing the piccolo for concert season)

mia fey: this one was TOUGH my goodness. i landed on bari sax but im still not completely sold, so feel free to suggest something better lol

godot: now THIS is a saxophone player if i've ever seen one. i think he knows tenor and bari, but only plays tenor for band stuff. he's usually the one who gets the solos because of course he does. he and mia play killer sax duets together for solo and ensemble :3

franziska von karma: at first i was thinking flute because she would wanna have that rivalry with edgeworth, but i think she'd actually play french horn!! she'd know piano and violin along with him anyway, so that's where the rivalry can be. maybe color guard for marching season? i think she'd like "accidentally" dropping rifles on miles during practice, hehe

dick gumshoe: TUBA. omg tuba. it's perfect. at first he wouldn't be sure what to play, so it's recommended to him because he'd be able to carry it easily and have the lungs for it. he'd fall in love with it pretty fast!

apollo justice characters:

apollo justice: trumpet. need i even say more.

trucy wright: clarinet OBVIOUSLY like this isn't even up for discussion. you could make an argument for french horn, but it's not even close. she also ends up in color guard, they basically make magic happen on the field so she'd love it! i could see her being captain of the color guard, too. when phoenix finds out, he gets all emotional and trucy gets stoked that she's following in her father's footsteps. i think she would become drum major at some point, and miles upon learning this would also become an emotional mess

kristoph gavin: this is the french horniest french horn that's ever french horned. i'm sorry i don't make the rules.

klavier gavin: he might play guitar, but not in band. he'd be a percussionist HANDS DOWN. i think he'd wanna be in drumline during marching season so he could be on the field or he'd be in color guard. in fact, scratch that first part- he's DEFINITELY doing color guard. i was also considering him being a trumpet player since he's kind of the trumpet to kristoph's french horn (god i hope that makes sense that's just so them to me), so maybe he'd play both! he's very musically inclined, after all, so him playing multiple instruments just makes sense!

investigations characters:

shi-long lang: another saxophone! i REALLY wanted to give him trumpet because he's one of my favs and i'm biased, but. c'mon. i mean, have you HEARD his theme.

raymond shields/eddie fender: don't give him saxophone don't give him saxophone don't give him saxophone WAIT. trombone. it was so obvious!!! i'm sure he learns sax at some point, but his main instrument is trombone. i could also see him playing percussion (pit for marching season) or trumpet

if you're here, ty for listening to me nerd out about this!!! more characters may be band-geek-ified in the future :>

if anyone has any ideas of their own, i'd love to hear them!!!

[st4rtar0t]

Some channeled songs for you from a loved one

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

These pictures do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners. I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

You are the innocent kid of the Pious God,

The dearest to his royalty…

Innocent kid of the Pious God,

You are his beloved child,

The worries that God has given,

He only will take them away.

The Girl has become like the Peepal (tree),

Everyone worships you,

But no one ever sows your seeds,

And no one can arrest you at home…

Treading the roads fearlessly,

She is akin to rain water,

When she comes near the real world,

She becomes a little dirty.

If you be the cash

I'll be the rubber band

You be the match

I will be a fuse, boom

Painter, baby, you could be the muse

I'm the reporter, baby, you could be the news

'Cause you're the cigarette and I'm the smoker

We raise a bet 'cause you're the joker

Checked off, you are the chalk

And I can be the blackboard

You can be the talk

And I can be the walk, yeah

Even when the sky comes falling

Even when the sun don't shine

I got faith in you and I

So put your pretty little hand in mine

Even when we're down to the wire, babe

Even when it's do or die

We could do it, baby, simple and plain

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Picture 2

My eyes choose only you, my eyes only listen to my heart.

He forgets the whole world and gets lost in thoughts of you.

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

When I see a shooting star I will pray for you.

I pray that when our bond is joined, it will never break.

I didn’t realize when night turned into morning.

Ever since you’ve been mine I’ve stopped noticing time.

I want to call you mine, I want to be with you.

I keep looking for an excuse to see you.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

You're so hypnotizing

Could you be the devil?

Could you be an angel?

Your touch, magnetizing

Feels like I am floating

Leaves my body glowing

They say, be afraid

You're not like the others

Futuristic lover

Different DNA

They don't understand you

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension

You open my eyes

And I'm ready to go

Lead me into the light

Picture 3

I will live by your name

I will die by your name

To be with you I can do anything for you

What you have done to me; The ego in me has died; been erased;

Yes, I have become

Yours, I have become mad for you

When the wildness of love crosses all the limits

The lovers hang themselves with smile

The magic of love overpowers the mind and proclaims

You may guard (the paths) but the lord will create a way

This is the will of love

This is the will of God

Without you, How can I live ?

Yes I know, this is the selfishness

I became crazy and play in all colors

I am innocent, mad and wild

I sing, I dance, I make everyone happy

Now I do not follow any religion or rules of society

Because I am mad and crazy in love

And if I may just take your breath away

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

The goosebumps start to raise

The minute that my left hand meets your waist

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour.

[anifever]

can you pls do an outsiders x Nerdy fem reader? Like, braces boy band fangirl who rants about comics type. Would rather have it being Curtis sister reader but you can do whatever, tyy <33

Gang w/ a Nerdy!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : The Curtis gang with a nerdy reader

A/N : This is kinda bad bcs I get unmotivated to write sometimes but I swear I’m trying omg. Also I didn’t do Curtis sister simply so it’d be more ambiguous, sorry 💔 Anyways this is literally me except I just don’t have braces anymore

˖⁺‧₊˚ 👓 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ You cut pics of The Rolling Stones members, etc out of the newspapers he reads and keep them

୨ He’s confused at first then he’s like “Oh..” when he realizes what’s happening- he doesn’t mind tho

୨ You write the dumbest little notes/pickup lines and put them in his lunch bag for work

୨ He doesn’t understand most of them but he likes them regardless

୨ He read comics here and there when he was a kid, but he definitely doesn’t anymore 😭

୨ He’s always arguing with Pony about those things and just doesn’t really get it

୨ Even though he doesn’t understand yours and Pony’s infatuation with stuff like that, he thinks it’s nice you’re able to bond with each other over it

୨ At some point you convince him to watch one of your favorite sci-fi type tv shows with you whenever he isn’t busy

୨ It’s a pipeline of him saying he doesn’t like it, pretending he doesn’t like it, then being really invested in it

୨ Anyways, even if your interests don’t exactly line up, you still love each other

୨ You rambling over stuff all the time honestly helps him forget about the stress in his life

Two-Bit

୨ He has no room to talk when his favorite show is still Mickey Mouse at the age of 18 and a half

୨ He thinks it’s cute in an endearing way

୨ He makes fun of you a bit but he doesn’t mean it seriously- that’s just how he is

୨ You guys discuss superheroes together and get way too in depth about it

୨ When he sees your room for the first time there’s like little figurines everywhere, etc and he’s just like “Huh, I have that one too” while pointing at the Hulk or something

୨ He doesn’t gaf, at least it’s clean unlike his

୨ If you have braces, he’s absolutely making jokes about it

୨ You’re getting called metal mouth but it’s out of love I promise

୨ He doesn’t let other people make jokes about it though

୨ Like that’s his job!!! Leave his girl alone!!!

୨ This man defends you with his life I’m so serious

୨ Anyways, whenever he gets super drunk and he starts rambling the exact same way you do normally so it sort of evens you out

୨ Idk what else to even say because you both just make so much sense- it seems so obvious

Steve

୨ I hate to say it, but he calls you brace-face

୨ Ironic because he needs some himself!!! 😊

୨ You said something along those lines to him once and he was so caught off guard and offended

୨ Even though he’s a smartass and you’d figure he’d be mean abt it, I feel like he’s probably kinda the same as you- at least when he was younger

୨ Bro knows his DC and Marvel lore

୨ You guys are constantly re-watching ‘Godzilla’ together

୨ There’s probably a picture of him from when he was younger dressed as it for Halloween or something too

୨ You have made him go to a concert with you

୨ He didn’t even really care about you freaking out over the guys, he was more upset that you chose The Beach Boys of all people

୨ He considers it “Soc music”

୨ You most likely don’t understand anything about cars

୨ He could sit there for hours trying to explain stuff to you and it just won’t click

୨ He’s like “How can you remember every fucking Beach Boys song but not what an exhaust does??”

୨ Okay you probably aren’t that dense but still

Dallas

୨ Yeahhh, he’s making fun of you

୨ It’s out of love tho 😇 most of the time..

୨ You constantly make references about comics and shows and he has no clue what you’re talking about

୨ You use the word kryptonite around him and he’s like “..What the HELL did you just say to me?”

୨ Most of the things you ramble about, he doesn’t understand, like, at all

୨ Much to his dismay, he can’t help his features from softening when he watches you do it

୨ You definitely gives him a break from all the reckless crazy stuff he does

୨ You use so many big words (they usually aren’t that crazy) and he’s just like “Could you speak English?”

୨ When he first went inside your room, it was covered in posters from movies like ‘Dracula,’ ‘Creature from the Black Lagoon,’ ‘Psycho,’ ‘Frankenstein,’ ‘The Birds,’ etc

୨ At first he was like “Jesus…” but really he thought it was pretty cool

୨ You guys are horror movie enjoyers⁉️

୨ You’re probably more of a geek over them than he is, but it’s just barely (he’d never admit it)

Soda

୨ You definitely fangirl over The Beatles and it lowkey hurts his feelings

୨ You have to be like “Soda.. you literally look like a movie star why are you worried-”

୨ Yes you know Paul’s blood type, time of birth, and who his fourth cousin twice removed is; so what? 🙄

୨ Knowledge-wise you balance each other out

୨ You have amazing grades in all your classes and he’s dropped out 🤍 but on the other hand, you are not very street smart

୨ Like if you have a gun held to your head, let’s hope they’ll ask you trivia about ‘The Twilight Zone’ for your freedom

୨ Anyways, he tries to keep up with and understand the stuff you talk about

୨ Give him time 💔 he’s trying

୨ He probably already knows a bit from having grown up with Pony, but it’s still nothing crazy

୨ He carries around extra wax for your braces in his pocket in case they ever start hurting you (idk if they were invented yet in the 60’s but let’s pretend)

୨ Throws wrenches and things like that at Steve if he says stuff about you

୨ You get pretty insecure since he’s so popular with girls and they usually aren’t like you; but he’s always reassuring you over it

Johnny

୨ You guys read comics together

୨ He’s a spider-man lover and I’ll die on this hill

୨ Someone write Johnny Cade spider-man au rn

୨ He’s constantly telling Dallas to “lay off” when he says stuff about you

୨ Finds your braces cute- he thinks they just add to your charm

୨ Anything that helps him somewhat escape reality, he enjoys; he gladly talks about nerdy stuff with you

୨ He gets along with Pony so well and he has most of those interests, and it’s the same way with you

୨ You guys sit in the lot and stargaze constantly; each time you point out and name the constellations along with explaining their backstories

୨ He listens with a fond smile on his face every time

୨ He thinks it’s cool you’re able to remember all of that

୨ You’re both just so cute I’m crying

୨ Whenever he comes over, he always admires the figures, posters, books, etc you have around your room

Pony

୨ Idc his ass is also a nerd

୨ Maybe not in the exact ways you are, but he definitely still is

୨ You help him in certain classes he’s not doing well in which he is extremely thankful for

୨ You guys also read comics together 😋

୨ Usually you make him read them out loud though since you love his voice and also think he’s good at the sound effects

୨ That being said, you both give each other book recommendations

୨ You guys go to the drive-in/theater together constantly and have heavy debriefings over all of the movies (mainly the sci-fi ones)

୨ You guys are both big fans of Elvis

୨ He’s a fan music-wise, you’re a fan of literally everything

୨ You’ve seen every single one of his movies. Multiple times.

୨ Definitely makes him a little jealous but he tells himself it’s not a big deal

୨ He can’t even be mad at you geeking out when he preforms on TV, he understands

୨ All that being said, you guys actually go really well together

[corpseidol]

hello! I saw requests were open and I was curious if you could possibly write something about us being Ashlyn’s younger sibling and their interactions with the group? (Thanks for taking time to read this, stay hydrated and have a great day ⭐️)

MINI HER

concept : ashlyn’s little sib with the sbg crew

genre : hcs + drabble, fluff

content : gn!reader, doesn’t involve phantom realm

watching over you (6yo!reader)

⠀ › ⠀tyler knows how to control himself around kids but when they start crying so loudly, he feels his vein on the urge of popping

⠀ › ⠀literally a “keeping up with aiden and ashlyn’s little sib’s mischief series!”

⠀ › ⠀taylor sings karaoke with you while ben vibes along (he’s just sitting on the couch and staring at you both like a happy brother figure)

⠀ › ⠀logan would teach you about astrology and their constellations. every time you see him, you would tell him the constellation you saw at night. (there have been incidents when logan would have to comfort you because you would realize you didn’t check the constellation last night or just didn’t see one.)

⠀ › ⠀tyler would make sure you’re always holding his hand when you’re not with ashlyn

⠀ › ⠀you would cry when ashlyn comes back and they leave without saying goodbye to you

⠀ › ⠀all of them had to play dress up with you once (you forced them to take a picture and pinned it onto your fridge.)

baking with the crew (13yo!reader)

ashlyn spoke no words, she stood there with her mouth slightly parted with her eyes narrowed; dumbfounded. you were standing in the corner of the kitchen with flour or whatever was on your shirt all over your face, shirt, and shorts. the others too, at least somewhat covered in baking ingredients.

the whole room went silent until you spoke up “i’m not respo-“ ashlyn cut you off “shh.” — “okay.” you quickly responded.

aiden looked around the room before slowly pulling up his hand and pointing a finger at tyler “his fault.” he murmured, almost laughing until he got caught off guard by tyler’s sudden attack —more flour and random bowls of whatever was in them spreading everywhere— “i swear to god, aiden!”

randoms / general hcs

⠀ › ⠀taylor enjoys talking about ashlyn with you

⠀ › ⠀aiden acts like a brother to you. he always teases you.

⠀ › ⠀some of your favorite songs were introduced to you by ben

⠀ › ⠀you’re like a distant cousin to the whole crew. you’re not part of the group, but when you’re around; everything’s still fun.

⠀ › ⠀if you wear glasses, you and logan probably have switched glasses a few times

⠀ › ⠀you borrow a lot of ashlyn’s band tees and aiden would always recognize it

[ma1dita]

crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> bedtime stories | next -> anything you want words: 3.4k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies (posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!” 

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long. 

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right… she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother. 

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated? 

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual. 

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head. 

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table…. You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime. 

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection. 

Devotion. 

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away. 

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not. 

But you two are just friends. 

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids… and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable… or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, Trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready for anything that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin. 

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh… I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience. 

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.  

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin. 

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.” 

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got Trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, Trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees.

Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stolls put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

 “Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places... That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way… I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon… but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart. 

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on.

When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

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