#I vaguely remember his description in one of the books

[0rczy]

EXACTLY! This is why I think Vat7k not becoming a real cartoon/comic makes sense, in universe at least.

If TTS is Rapunzel's diary entries, super artistic, optimistic and goes into every detail about her adventures, then it makes total sense that all we, the audience know about Varian's journey are scrap notes, vague character descriptions and a bullet point summary of the events in chronological order.

That IS what a guy who's got lots of projects to work on, would do. He doesn't have the time to illustrate a diary. At MOST he would do some quick doodles, which is where the STORYBOARDS come in. That is what his art style would be: quick, clear, gets the point across. Storyboards are, by definition, blueprints to a bigger story. Which is what Varian is good at drawing, being the royal engineer and all.

Also, if we take into account the Vat7k fandom as a whole, there are many different animatics made by different artists. Who's to say Varian would decide to tell his story in one go? Who's to say he wouldn't come back to jotting down the events every 5 ish years, his art style changing drastically over time? Either that, or the story could be told by all of his friends, as well. Together, they all contribute to putting a basic idea of a story onto paper but the point is, they already lived through it! They don't NEED to go into details because they know the story by heart.

Unlike Rapunzel, Varian has one/two things he wants to be remembered by; alchemy and his inventions. Art or storytelling isn't a part of that. It makes SENSE FOR HIM NOT TO WRITE A BOOK ABOUT HIS JOURNEY. It makes total sense that Vat7k never came to be, not in the way TTS did, at least.

(On that note, Tangled the movie being CGI makes sense too. It could be from Eugene's perspective, and the reason it's animated and not a live action could be because he saw the events as magical, fairytale-like. He couldn't possibly imagine it as super realistic, the long glowing golden hair and all.)

Unpopular Vat7k opinion

Varian and the seven kingdoms won't be based off of Rapunzel's artistic style. But rather Varian's, here's the example of what I'm refering to.

[paulcolorado]

[divinekangaroo]

Started reading Lymond Chronicles after @deadendtracks' comment that SK must've read them too / based Tommy on Lymond....

and like i'm what, at ch3 or 4 maybe and...

yeahhhhhhhhhh XD

[valleyofheartz]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

University AU

Pairing: Volleyball player!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Artist!F!Reader

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, FWB to lovers, angst with a happy ending

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: Falling in love with the pretty volleyball player in your first year of University wasn’t something you intended to happen; it just did. And then, two years later, the line between lust and love blurs. You want him beyond his body, but does he want every side of you? A part of you liked to think so, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is known for crushing hearts, and make no mistake, you were no exception.

Content/Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, FWB relationship, graphic descriptions of blood/knives/wounds/organs (nothing actually happens), subtle hints of depression/anxiety, jealousy, curse words, one scene with a creep but its vague, pls lmk if I missed anything!

two August’s ago, you fell in love.

you remember laughing till tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, face hurting from smiling so much. you remember soft touches; on your hand as you reached for the same item, on your waist when you squeezed by, on the corner of your mouth when you don’t seem to notice the crumbs that coat your lips. you remember a gentle smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit as your heart stutters in your chest. you remember dark curly hair, mole kissed skin and eyes brimming with affection.

you remember everything.

bright, giddy, and curious, you entered university with dreams larger than the sun. your passion for art made you yearn. you wanted to draw everything beautiful. you’d sit by the tree near your campus library and draw for hours, music blaring through your headphones as you sketched pretty items, pretty scenery, and pretty people in your book.

it was under the tree you found your muse.

you recall forgetting to bring something to tie your hair with, leaving it to fall in your face when the the wind hit a little too hard. you squinted, frowning as you moved the strands out of your sight.

and then, as if entranced, you see the prettiest student walk towards the library. it’s like everything is suddenly moving slower. he’s clad in a- sports jacket? with your school logo, and black shorts to match. he has a gym bag hung on his right shoulder, but you find yourself more focused on the thick locks on his head and soft slope of his nose. his lips are full, pretty and pink. the slight chill from the air must be the reason why his cheeks are tinted as well, and your hands itch with the urge to draw this mythical being.

(first-year you was a little dramatic, but present you still understands her.)

you draw a rough sketch of him the moment he leaves, but you know had you had more time to look, you would’ve done a much better job.

✾

the second time you see him is at a party.

you had forgotten about the pretty boy as the days went on, more focused with school and handing in assignments. exams arrived, and then you were on break. your friends had begged you to show up, with promises of it being a fun experience even if all you wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep all day.

you end up wearing a cute outfit, somewhat revealing yet covering the parts you wanted to. your hair is styled with shiny clips that match your makeup. you feel pretty, and even though you initially did not want to go out, you think this might be a good idea.

“Y/n, let me know if you want to leave early, okay? And don’t drink anything random people offer you.” Kuroo grabs your arm, tone serious. you want to laugh at the usually silly guy being so protective of you.

you smile, “I know, father. No need to worry about me, it’s just my first party.”

Akaashi beside you ruffles your hair, “He has a reason to be worried, you’re a little too sweet for your own good.”

you scrunch up your nose, mentally disagreeing. you could certainly be mean. but they had yet to see you at your worst, so this made sense. you decide to let them keep this image of you.

Bokuto barrels forward, knocking into your back as you stumble into Kuroo’s arms. he catches you with ease, sending a glare towards his friend.

“Watch it, are you drunk already?”

Bokuto grins, “Pre-gamed a little too hard! My bad, bro.” he pauses, looking at you, “And the lady-bro.”

you stifle a giggle at his words, focusing on the warmth that emits from Kuroo. you suddenly regret wearing something that showed more skin, knowing you got cold easily.

“Tetsu, can we get drinks?” you grab his bicep gently as he looks down.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just say hi to some of the guys and we’ll go.” he waits for Akaashi to come to your other side before walking, with you squashed between them.

you roll your eyes, what was up with them? it was your first time attending a university party, not your first time at a club.

you greet people mindlessly, and they all seem nice enough. you get restless after twenty minutes though, really wanting a drink. you tug Kuroo’s shirt gently, waiting for him to turn to you.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

he frowns, “I’ll come, give me a sec.” he doesn’t wait for a response before excusing himself from his friends. they all wave him off as he guides you to another room in the house, which is more secluded.

you find the table, filled with all sorts of stuff you were unfamiliar with. one of Kuroo’s friends stands by, and you assume he’s keeping an eye on the beverages to ensure nobody spikes them with anything.

Kuroo gives him a quick nod before reaching for a bottle. he must know what he’s doing, however, as he pours you a mixture of two drinks before handing it to you. you take it with narrowed eyes, lifting it to your nose and oh, it smells fruity enough.

you down it in one go, looking back at Kuroo’s slackened jaw. you bark out a loud laugh, before covering it with your hand. “What?”

he shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing. Didn’t know you were so thirsty.”

you shrug in response, mindlessly scanning the room as Kuroo pours himself a drink.

despite the room being half empty, it is still fairly large. you can see a group playing beer pong on the left side, while the ones on the right are laughing loudly as they seemingly discuss something funny.

and then, your eyes land on him.

he’s standing with who you assume is his friend, with their back towards you. he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and the position allows his navy blue shirt to stretch with the muscle. you swallow when your eyes trail down to his slim waist.

broad shoulders and a small waist? surely that had to be illegal.

his black pants are loose, but fit his thighs nicely.

when your eyes go back to his face, you’re once again filled with the urge to pick up your pencil and draw. he’s not smiling, and you have a feeling he doesn’t smile very often, but it doesn’t take away from his beauty. his cheekbones are pretty and prominent, and you wonder how they would feel beneath your palms.

you bite on your bottom lip at the thought, feeling foolish for thinking about a stranger like that.

“Oh? Does my little Y/n have a crush?” a voice croons next to your ear.

you whip your head back with a glare, “Tetsu, no.”

he laughs loudly, head throwing back as he cackles. you frown, scrunching your nose at him even if he’s too busy laughing to see.

“Oh, c’mon cutie, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with a little crush, I would just recommend someone a little… nicer.” he says, out of breath as a grin stretches on his face.

you tilt your head, “Huh? You know him?“

Kuroo ruffles your hair gently, with you moving to fix it immediately.

“We aren’t close, but I do know him since he’s on the same team as me,” Kuroo smiles at the wide eyed look you give him. “i’d say i’m closer with his friend over there.”

when you glance back to the pair, you find that the pretty boy has his eyes on you.

your heart jumps, your body shivering as you snap your eyes back to Kuroo.

what the fuck? maybe you hallucinated that.

“Oh, your man is looking here.”

maybe not.

“Hey, want me to introduce you? Who knows, you might be able to defrost his heart.” he smirks, with you shaking your head to disagree. “No, thank you. I’m not going to defrost his heart like he’s some piece of frozen raw meat.”

he huffs out a laugh, turning into a cough when his eyes partially widen. “Well, you should prepare yourself, they’re both coming here right now.”

you look at Kuroo with an incredulous expression, “You’re fucking lying.”

“Such a foul mouth, cutie.” he lifts his hand up and looks beside you, “Hey, man.” he waves. he nods at the pretty boy next, who you assume nods back.

you finally allow yourself to look away from Kuroo and at the two new men in front of you. they’re both tall, but thankfully you’re used to being surrounded by tall men due to your friends.

you smile at the friend and glance at the pretty boy for a second, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” you’re thankful you manage to sound stable.

“I’m Adriah.” his friend says with a half grin. it’s boyish and charming, but you’re more concerned with the curly-haired guy beside him. your eyes dart to his next, anticipating an introduction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

his voice is deep, it’s almost alluring. it reminds you of the dark chocolate you often pick up from the convenience store beside your dorm; bitter but comforting.

you always loved dark chocolate.

the thought makes your heart do a funny thing and your chest seize up.

✾

a year and a half later, you kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time.

you’re close friends by now, perhaps even best friends. you know him like the back of your hand; no, you know better than you know yourself.

you know his arms are covered in beauty marks, ones you’d like to trace with your lips. you know how his hair looks when he first awakens, eyes swollen and lips puffed out in a pout. you know his favorite food, and how he likes his coffee in the morning. you know he sighs through his nose when he’s feeling overstimulated, you know his lips press together when he’s about to say something mean. you know he crosses his arms when he feels like he needs to protect himself, you even know the brand of disinfecting wipes he prefers to buy.

you know he has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, you know how his lips stretch out all pretty when he’s caught off guard. you know the low timbre in his chest when he laughs, his thick steel walls suddenly nowhere to be seen as he allows himself to relax.

“Kiyo, please? I really want to go, and nobody else wants to come!” you beg, voice sad as you sit on the edge of his bed.

it’s 12:00PM, and Kiyoomi is still laying in bed. you understand, it is a Saturday, but you wanted to go out and visit the cat cafe with supposedly amazing tiramisu.

the lump on the bed barley moves, “Oh great, so I’m your last choice. I’ll pass.”

you smile, giggling. “No, you were my first choice, but you said no so I asked other people and they also refused, so now I came back to you!”

he lifts the covers, sitting up. he’s shirtless, and the sight of his bare body covered in pretty beauty marks makes your brain short-circuit. you turn away, huffing. “Put on a shirt you… perv.”

you hear a pretty laugh then, your head immediately turning back to catch the rare sight. he shakes his head, small grin still on his face, “I’m the perv? Not the one who’s red in the face and can’t even look me in the eye?”

you blink harshly, “I can look at you! I’m just… respecting your boundaries.”

you turn away again, crossing your arms. you hear the covers on the bed shuffle, and when you slowly turn around, you find yourself much closer to Kiyoomi than you thought.

you blink, moving to give him space and tumbling off the bed in the process with a yelp. he grabs you with wide eyes, moving so he takes the brunt of the fall.

you land on top of him, watching as he groans in pain below you. your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, and they feel smooth beneath your hands.

he sighs, laying his head on the floor. he looks up at you through lidded eyes. “So what now, genius? You made us fall.”

you shoot him a dirty look, “Well nobody told you to fall with me.”

“This is the ‘thank you’ I get? Next time I’ll let you get hurt, brat.” he rolls his eyes with a scoff.

you pout, bottom lip pushing out. “You’d let me fall and get hurt?”

he stares at you intently, not answering. you take the time to observe his face, wanting to burn the memory into your brain. you like the small bump on his nose. you like the way his bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top. you like the way his skin turns red easily, his cheeks often sporting a pretty blush even from the slightest chilly air. you like his thick curly hair, wondering how it would feel in your hands. you like his eyes too, dark and swirling with emotions you’ve yet to unravel and discover.

suddenly realizing your proximity, your eyes dart to his lips. plush and full, they look so inviting. you subconsciously lick your bottom lip, glancing up to find his eyes are also on your mouth. and when he finally looks you in the eye, you know if you don’t make a move now, you never will.

you lean in, slowly, and with a gentle exhale, you press your lips to his.

✾

a month later, you have sex with Kiyoomi.

it comes naturally, you think. soft kisses shared with hushed whispers were no longer enough. it led to heated touches and lust-filled eyes.

so when the two of you end up going further, you have no complaints.

he treats you exactly how you’d like, gentle in some ways and rough in others. you like the feel of his calloused hands caressing your skin, the rough bumps making him more attractive than you already thought he was.

and then you’re laying in bed, sweaty and covered in fluid. but his mattress is so comfortable, and your eyelids feel heavy.

“Y/n, we need to shower.”

“One minute.” you mumble quietly.

you feel a hand gently move hair out of your face, subconsciously leaning into the warmth of his palm. it’s gone before you can speak, and you have to force the whine down your throat.

you hear a sigh, and then feel a strong arm slide underneath your knees with the other behind your back as you are lifted into the air.

you squeak, hands scrambling to latch onto his neck. you look up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, “Seriously, Kiyo? I can still walk, you jackass.”

he shakes his head with a small grin, and your hands itch to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “Are you sure you can walk? I’m not sure you can after all that.”

you change your mind, you want to slap him senseless.

“Ha-ha. So. Funny.” you deadpan, unable to help yourself and breaking into a smile when you feel his shoulders shake as he chuckles.

when the two of you are in bed, freshly washed and ready to sleep, Kiyoomi breaks your heart for the first time.

you’re laying your head on his chest, heartbeat steady and comforting as it almost lulls you to sleep.

his voice pulls you back, “Y/n,”

you hum in response.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand, I care about you, but I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” the words are spoken softly, but they cut through your heart nonetheless.

your body freezes, and you have to force yourself to relax when you realize he can feel it.

so what if Kiyoomi isn’t ready to date? you’re okay with kissing him, going out with him, and sleeping with him. you’re okay with that and not having a label. you’re okay with not being exclusive.

you’re okay with having him to this extent.

you’re okay.

“I understand. Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.”

✾

five months later, everything is the same.

and yet, nothing is the same.

“I don’t like this, Y/n. I think you should break things off with him.” Kuroo frowns, leaning into Akaashi’s side as he hogs the blanket to himself in the freezing cold apartment.

you pull your own fluffy throw closer, “There’s nothing to break off, Tetsu. There’s no label.”

Bokuto walks in, clad in a black tank top and volleyball shorts. “You can break off this unlabeled arrangement you have, Y/n! Just call it exactly that!” he smiles, hands on his hips standing proudly.

Akaashi coughs, “Bo, please put your air conditioning lower. We’re all going to get sick at this rate.”

Bokuto frowns, hands dropping to his sides. he walks to the thermostat, “Seriously? I think the temperature is fine.”

“That’s because you’re not human, you beast.” Kuroo snorts.

Bokuto turns around, looking scandalized. “I’m not a beast! You two are just weenies!”

you giggle, “Thank you for not including me with them, Kou.”

he salutes you with a cute little grin.

so maybe your friends were against your… situation with Kiyoomi. but you knew what you were doing, and while he might not want a relationship right now, you’re sure you can change his mind over time.

naive, perhaps, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart.

✾

everything comes to a head at one of their volleyball games.

you’re invited, of course. being friends with a few of the boys had allowed you to show up earlier and get seats in the front row.

it’s not your first game, but you’re excited nonetheless.

until you see Kiyoomi with someone unfamiliar.

she’s pretty, almost unearthly pretty. her hair is long, and cascades down her back like those magical waterfalls one would find deep in the forest. her smile is perfect, not crooked in the slightest. and when she greets him, her dainty hand smoothes over the skin of his arm; you walk faster.

Kuroo greets you first, with Akaashi and Bokuto coming behind him. you give them all your best wishes, but you can’t stop the uneasy feeling in your stomach at the sight of Sakusa with that girl.

when Akaashi sees your line of sight, he grimaces sympathetically. “Ah, that’s one of his friends from high school.”

your eyes shoot to his, and you wonder what expression you’re showing, because he comes closer and wraps you in a hug. you release a breath at the touch, letting yourself relax as he pats your back.

when you go to greet Sakusa, the girl is still there.

she’s sticking to him like a leech.

you try to get rid of the rude thoughts as you approach. she didn’t deserve your jealousy, nobody did. because you did this to yourself.

“Hi, Kiyo.” you smile.

he smiles back at you, and though it is small, it’s there. something in you settles when you think about how far the two of you have gotten.

the girl beside him is looking at the two of you curiously, but all you do is give her an awkward grin and turn back to Kiyoomi.

“Um, I just wanted to say good luck. I have a surprise for you, i’ll give it to you after the game.”

he raises a brow, intrigued. “You can’t give it to me now?”

you huff out a laugh. “No, silly. It’s a reward for you playing today. I know you’ll do well regardless of the outcome.”

his face smoothes out as he nods, “Okay, I’ll be waiting then.”

without another word you wave and turn around, walking to the seats and taking one in the front. you feel odd being the first to leave, but it was clear that the girl was not going to her seat until the game started. and while you’d like to talk to Kiyoomi more, you know you have to control yourself before you do something stupid like show him your jealousy.

the game goes by quickly, with your university winning the match. you cheer loudly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. it’s times like these that you truly cherish the joy in life. even though you hadn’t played in the game yourself, you can practically feel the positive energy radiating off of the players, and it fills you with excitement.

you run down and across the court, moving to hug your friends as you congratulate them.

“Y/n are you going to come with us to get dinner? Please say yes!” Bokuto widens his eyes, bottom lip curling into a pout.

you smile, happy to be included but knowing you have to decline. “Sorry, Kou. I already have plans with Kiyoomi. Can we raincheck?”

he nods sadly, and Akaashi pats him on the back in consolation.

“Have fun at dinner! I’m going to find Kiyoomi.” you wait till they exit the gymnasium before turning around and looking for the tall dark-haired man you were enamored with.

you can’t seem to find him through the crowd and the thought has you frowning anxiously. you stumble inside the group of people, breathing out when you finally see the end of the mob. with another exhale, you look up.

you see red.

because there is Kiyoomi, with the small pretty girl in his arms as she wraps her own around his neck. their faces lean in together, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume they were about to kiss.

without even knowing what you’re doing, you march right up and grab his arm, tugging him into you with as much force as you can muster.

he looks down at you with wide eyes, and even though his hair is damp with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, you find him to be the prettiest in the room.

suddenly realizing how this looked, you let go of his arm and step back. “What were you two doing?” you ask, voice soft yet loud enough for him to hear. the crowd has begun to disperse, leaving only the team and their friends in the gymnasium.

the girl looks awkward, glancing between you and Kiyoomi before taking a step back. “Uh, I’m gonna get going now. I’ll text you later, ‘Omi.”

your eye twitches at the nickname, and when Kiyoomi simply nods at her, you feel like you’re losing your mind.

he says nothing to you as he moves to pack his things, stuffing his towel in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. he doesn’t even glance at you as he walks out, with you trailing after him like a lost puppy.

the walk to his apartment is short, but because of the silence it feels much longer; much more painful, like every step is with your bare foot onto glass.

when you finally arrive at his place, he shuts the door and tosses his gym bag to the side before turning to you.

“Want to explain what that was?” his face is cold, and the uncaring way he speaks to you makes you nervous.

you swallow, “Shouldn’t you explain? Why were her arms… Why did it look like you two were dating, or something? Why did you let her touch you like that?”

he chuckles, though it has none of the sweetness that it is normally laced with. “Why the fuck does it matter? You’re not my girlfriend.”

surprisingly, the words don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. no, you knew that already. what really makes your skin burn is the way he looks at you.

you feel dread creep up on you, goosebumps arising on your skin as you shiver. the look in his eyes is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the normally fond gaze you are granted with.

maybe that’s why it twists the metaphorical knife that is lodged in your stomach, scarlet blood seeping out as the squelch rings in your ears. it feels far too real, you can almost see him holding the knife as it digs deeper into your flesh.

“I never liked that about you.”

it's vague, but you feel like you understand what he means regardless. you ask him to clarify despite yourself. “Never liked what?” you whisper. your hands are shaking; you hold them behind your back to conceal it.

“The way you act around me. Like we’re in a loving relationship when really, we’re just friends who sleep together sometimes.” the words spoken are firm, leaving no room for you to even question whether he means them or not.

“I’m sorry?” you sound breathless, asking him to confirm what he had already said.

his eyes darken further, and you swallow harshly at the sight.

“You need me to say more to get it through your thick skull?” he scoffs, furious, and the sound cuts into your already wounded heart.

“I don’t like the way you coddle me. I don’t appreciate when you give me your opinions on things you know nothing about.” he pauses. you wait with bated breath, wondering how much more your heart could take.

“And, god, I really fucking hate when you show up at my games and smother me in front of everyone. It’s uncomfortable, and then you put me on the spot and act like you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

it feels like someone has plunged their hand through your chest, tearing you apart as they grasp onto your beating heart; you can almost picture it, the way the mangled organ thumps erratically as crimson liquid seeps out between their fingers.

you inhale shakily, “I just… I love you, I’m sorry.”

you look up, to see who’s holding your heart hostage.

“I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

it’s him.

and fuck, it’s always him.

✾

two summers from now, Sakusa knows he’ll be playing volleyball professionally, for the first time.

he’ll have finished his fourth year of university, and he will be happy.

happiness.

Sakusa doesn’t exactly understand the emotion. sure, he’s felt anxiety, rage, and satisfaction, but happiness? what did that even entail?

he sits silently, trying to drone out the professors talks of another essay, and suddenly regrets taking a psychology class. because the amount of writing it required was a bit too much, even for him.

and then his thoughts go back to happiness.

oftentimes, Sakusa is told he looks mean; grouchy. and yet, he remembers an old conversation with Atsumu.

“So… you and Y/n?” Atsumu drawled.

Sakusa sighs, moving to pack up his things in the locker room. “It’s not like that, don’t go spreading anything.”

the blond raises his hands in mock surrender, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Hey! I would never!”

and then he grins, though not as obnoxious as usual. it’s more kind, if anything, and Sakusa doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m just saying, ya seem a lot less grumpy these days. Happier.”

Sakusa pauses, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.

Atsumu sighs, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves to exit. “She’s good for ya, ‘Omi.” he pats his shoulder twice on his way out. “Don’t fuck it up, man.”

Sakusa stiffens; not at the action, but at his words. he quickly places everything in his bag before zipping it up and heading home.

if he’s a bit dazed at practice the next day, no one says anything.

when Sakusa lays in bed, he recounts the last time he spoke to you.

it’s been two weeks, and even though time has passed, it feels like just yesterday you were standing in his kitchen with your heart on your sleeve, letting him use it however he wished.

he remembers feeling furious at you, for so obviously disrespecting one of his good high school friends. and then you hadn’t even apologized, you’d instead pushed at him even more.

and then… he ruined everything.

he remembers the look on your face, the pure heartbreak in your irises as he carelessly spewed words he knew would hurt you.

it was not surprising when he walked into practice two days later to see glares of contempt by some of his teammates, who he knew were your friends. even Atsumu had looked at him and shook his head, and some part of him burned with shame. his mistakes were on display for everyone to see, and although he wanted to pull his walls even higher, he felt too distraught at the potential loss of you to bother.

he remembers laying in bed that night, finally deciding to break the silence between the two of you. but with a simple, ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk?’ he was able to find out that he was blocked.

he felt ice run through his veins, pausing at the vibrant red letters, spelling Not Delivered. he quickly opened Instagram and Twitter and found you had him removed and blocked there as well.

fuck.

he had really done it now, hadn’t he? he so naively believed that you simply needed space, and once he gave you a sincere apology the two of you could go back to the way things were; that you two could explore whatever non-platonic feelings he was beginning to develop for you.

but once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he wonders what the point is of experiencing love for the first time if it ends here.

it can’t end here.

he makes it his mission to try to meet you.

first he showed up to your Thursday class, knowing it ended at noon and you had a two-hour gap between your next one. he has a coffee in one hand and a freshly baked donut in the other. he drove across town to grab it, knowing it was your favourite. he knows a mere donut cannot make up for what he said to you, but it felt wrong coming empty handed to reconcile with you. not when you deserved everything and more.

except when you see him, you immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction.

the action stings, and he sighs once you are out of view. the bag with the donut in his hand feels heavy, his hand tingling with the rejection. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

I deserve this, he acknowledges.

I deserve this and worse.

it’s the next week when he has the chance to see you again; he knows you’re working, often meeting you at the cafe to pick you up and take you to his place home.

so with a deep breath, he walks in. the door bell chimes loudly, and he curses mentally when he realizes how deserted the place is at the moment. there’s only a few people inside; a man sitting in the corner as he types furiously on his laptop. a woman and two others sitting on the side as they sip on what he assumes is coffee or tea.

and then he looks to the front, where you stand, and your eyes are on him.

the moment he takes a step forward, you stumble back, as if burned. he stops, unsure if he should keep walking or simply say something as he stands ten feet away from you.

unfortunately for him, you seem to come back to reality and swiftly open the door where it explicitly states STAFF. a moment later, one of your coworkers walks out with their customer service smile, and he deflates.

third time’s a charm, he says to comfort himself. but even he knows it won’t be that easy.

it’s friday, and even though he had no idea if you’d be home, he figured it was worth a shot. so that’s how he finds himself at your door, with a bouquet of white Tulips in his arms.

“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?”

he jumps slightly when he hears a high-pitched voice coming from behind him, turning around and smoothing out his face.

“I’m not sure.” he states quietly.

“That’s okay! Is there anything in specific you’re looking for? A colour, or a meaning, perhaps?”

he frowns; it feels like all he’s been doing is frowning lately. “Uh, maybe something bright? Or… something that symbolizes forgiveness?”

she smiles sympathetically, and he wonders what expression he must be showing to warrant such a response from a stranger.

and that’s how he finds himself here. he shuffles on his feet, clutching the flowers to his chest protectively. with a soft inhale, he raises his fist and knocks.

silence.

he rings the doorbell this time, and still nothing.

he exhales quietly, his head dropping as he stares at the old carpet that covered the hallways in your apartment building. he’s been here so many times with you, but now he sees nothing but the back of your door and he has nobody but himself to blame.

he stands in front of your place for an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall as he recalls his words to you. how you’d handed your heart to him with your bare hands, only for him to treat it as though it meant nothing to him.

so on Sunday, he lays in bed and recounts the last two weeks.

he wants to wallow in self-pity, but then he hears banging on his door and wonders which unlucky soul will encounter his wrath.

he swings the door open, face emotionless and mouth ready to open and hurl insults at the other, until he sees his one and only cousin, Komori.

“Hey man!” his cousin smiles, innocent and happy.

Sakusa hates it.

his shoulders slump as all anger vanishes, exhaustion left in its wake. “What are you doing here, Moyota,”

he walks back to his room as Komori closes the door. “because if you can’t tell, i’m busy.”

Komori snorts, “Busy doing what? Moping?”

Sakusa glares at him, but in his disheveled state he merely looks like a feral wounded puppy. he crawls back under his covers, face smushed inside his pillow as he feels the other side of the bed dip.

“Get your outside clothes off my bed, Moyota.”

he hears a huff before the pressure is gone, and wills himself to sleep.

“Listen, I know you’re upset about what happened with Y/n, but sitting in your sadness won’t get you anywhere.”

Sakusa continues to lay there. “Mhm.”

Komori ignores the dry response, “There’s a party on Friday. You should go.”

“Why should I go to a party? You want me to drink my sorrows away?” his voice comes out muffled but he’s sure Komori can hear him regardless.

“Y/n will be there.”

that gets his attention. he sits up, the covers pooling at his waist as he crosses his arms. “How do you know?” his eyes narrow.

Komori rolls his eyes, “Because, I overheard Kuroo asking her to come on the phone. Something about him finding her someone new to replace you.”

he clenches his fists, feeling the burn of jealousy take over. replace him? he knew you were well-liked in your program, often waving at people whenever the two of you walked together on campus. he was not ignorant of the stares you’d get from fellow students. but it didn’t matter then because he knew his eyes were on you, and yours were on him.

but now everything’s different.

now, your eyes are not solely on him. the thought has his chest hurting in a way that he can only describe as a stabbing pain.

“I’ll go.”

✾

the week passes by too slow for Sakusa, but he knows it’s only because he’s missing you. when friday arrives, he’s feeling somewhat optimistic about meeting you and hopefully reconciling.

he scrunches the products in his hair, freshly washed from the shower. he’s wearing black slacks and a matching button-up. he places a few rings on his hands and moves to dry his hair with a cotton t-shirt once more before exiting his room.

“About time, dude. Why is your hair routine so complicated?” his cousin complains from his place on the couch, looking at him expectantly.

Sakusa grabs his keys on the counter, “My hair isn’t pin-straight, that’s why. Why are you still sitting down, let’s go.”

Komori rises with a shake of his head as he walks to the front door and slips on his shoes. Sakusa waits for him to leave before locking the door and following him to his car.

the drive seems unreasonably fast, and his palms feel sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. he’s suddenly thankful he chose to wear black bottoms.

when he walks inside the house, he’s immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and sweat. it’s absolutely disgusting, and he has to remind himself why he’s there as he takes another step forward.

“Let’s go to the back! It’ll be less busy there!” Komori raises his voice, but Sakusa can just barely hear his words. he nods and follows his cousin to another room, breathing out in relief when he notices there are fewer people.

Sakusa subtly shuffles towards an empty corner, knowing Komori is following him. he turns around, leaning on the wall, “These people are revolting. When is Y/n getting here?”

Komori scratches his head, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Not sure, let me check with my friends. I’ll ask where Kuroo is.”

he scowls, “Why would that matter?”

“Because he wouldn’t leave her alone at a party.” Komori shrugs. “They’re real close.”

something in his chest feels tight at his cousins words. you and Sakusa were once close; and if you forgave him, he’d let you be even closer. he just has to apologize and hopefully smooth everything over.

a part of him itches to go and search for you himself. he feels on edge, knowing you are so close yet so far away. it unsettles him, the thought that if you don’t forgive him he’ll have to watch you from afar, and accept that someone will love and care for you all the ways he didn’t.

but - does he love you? he cares for you, immensely at that. but does he love you?

he thinks about your pretty eyes, always filled with affection. he thinks about your ability to make people feel comfortable around you within minutes. he thinks about your small hands, your shy smile, the feeling of your hair when he twirls a lock around his finger as you lay in his bed. he thinks about how you look with the sun seeping through the crack in the curtains, skin glowing and lips slightly parted as you exhale softly.

his heart beat echos in his ears. he feels a flush take over his face and places the back of his hand on his forehead. he suddenly feels hot.

maybe he has a fever? but so suddenly? he swallows, the sound echoing in his head.

and then he finally sees you, drink in hand as you throw your head back and laugh.

his heart beats loudly in his chest.

he places a hand above it, feeling the erratic thumps beneath his palm.

ah.

so he loves you.

-

Sakusa waits.

he waits in the corner, a drink in his hand, courtesy of Komori as he subtly stares at you from across the room.

it’s been about an hour, and you’ve yet to notice him. he cherishes the time, observing you from afar. he watches you giggle and wrap your arms around your friends, the gaping hole you’d left in his heart the moment you walked out of his life grows by the minute.

he’s contemplating what to do when you finally lock eyes with him.

he watches the smile slowly slip off your face, something akin to agony colouring your eyes.

he begins to walk towards you, not breaking eye contact for a second. it's like he's entranced. and when he’s right in front of you, he feels breathless; like your existence has left him at a loss for words.

“Hey.”

his voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat when your lips tug downwards.

your friends are looking at him with distaste, even Bokuto who normally sports a happy grin seems fairly upset. it makes him realize what a huge fuck-up he is.

he shifts on his feet, “Can we talk?”

Kuroo answers for you. “No, you can’t. You’ve said enough to her.” he steps in front of you, shoulders pushed back.

Sakusa feels irritation bubble in his chest, but pushes it down, knowing that Kuroo has a reason to be protective over you.

“I just want to apologize. And, confess something.” his voice comes out more desperate than he thought it would. it sounds fragile, even to his own ears.

Kuroo deflates, if only slightly. “It’s still a no. Find someone else to mess around with.”

“I'm not messing around. I just, I need to talk to her. Please.” the cup in his hand is beginning to bend, the cheap plastic cracking as the drink sloshes around.

Kuroo opens his mouth to what he assumes refuse him again, until a small hand grabs onto his arm and steps in front of him.

he watches as you let go of Kuroo, looking more composed than you had been before.

“It’s okay, Tetsu. I can handle this.” your voice makes his skin tingle. he realizes how much he’s missed it.

Sakusa’s shoulders drop in relief. he feels so happy that you decided to talk to him, he doesn’t even care that your friends are glaring him down.

“But-”

you cut Kuroo off, “Really, it’s fine. I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Kuroo looks like he wants to argue, but you give him a look that has him backing down.

he huffs, “Fine. Just be careful. Call me if he does anything.”

Sakusa stops himself from scoffing, annoyed with Kuroo’s words. what would he do at this point? what could he possibly do to make things worse than they already are?

you pat Kuroo on the arm and walk past Sakusa, turning back. “Let’s go.” you don’t wait for a response before continuing, and he follows you without a glance at your friends.

he tries to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady as you enter the backyard. it’s empty, the chilly night air keeping everyone inside.

you turn around, crossing your arms. “So? You wanted to talk?”

he licks his lips, rubbing his forearm with his hand. he’s thankful that he threw his drink out at the garbage can near the back door. he can feel his hands shaking, and hopes you don’t notice.

“Yeah.” he exhales, “How have you been?”

you shrug, expression guarded. “Fine.”

he nods, expecting the dry answer but still feeling a bit dejected.

“I miss you.”

the words come out so abruptly. the two of you stare at each other in shock, and he almost raises a hand to cover his mouth.

god, why did he just say that?

you laugh, but it comes out less genuine than he’s ever seen. “You should be happy you don’t have someone pretending to be your girlfriend, right?”

his face drops, and he knows whatever expression he’s showing is not as stoic as he thought. because with one glance at his face you look like you almost regret your words.

“I was.. I was so fucking stupid that night. I know you have no obligation to forgive me, but please let me apologize.”

you stare at him silently, before nodding.

Sakusa breathes out, “I’m sorry. Nothing I said was true. I was just… angry. Not at you, at myself. I had been denying how I felt for so long and when you asked me who that girl was, I just lost it.”

he stares at the grass rather than your face, not wanting to know if you look at him with an unforgiving gaze. “I realized that I had unintentionally entered a sort of- relationship with you. I was scared. I still am.”

he lifts his gaze finding your wide eyes. “It was an unintentional relationship, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

he pauses, “Of course, except when I ruined everything. I’ve stayed up every night since it happened thinking about how I could have responded differently.” his lips tug up, the expression bitter.

“Because it was after that I realized my feelings for you.”

your brows furrow, your eyes darting around his face in pure confusion. “What are you saying, Sakusa?”

he ignores the ache of you using his last name, “That I have feelings for you.”

the silence is deafening as crickets chirp in the silent night.

“I love you, Y/n.”

you stagger back, as if wounded. you shake your head, “No, no. You don’t love me, Sakusa.”

he doesn’t understand your response. sure, you wouldn’t be elated. he knew you were still upset. but you look like you genuinely don’t believe him, like you refuse to believe him. he feels like he’s going to collapse if you walk away without acknowledging his feelings.

“What? I’m serious, Y/n. I love you.” he reaches a hand out, drawing back when you flinch.

“I’m in love with you.” he whispers.

you look at him, as though he has caused you immense pain, before turning away and running back into the house.

Sakusa stands there, alone in the dark.

he wonders if love is supposed to be so painful; if he will always be the one to inflict the pain, cause the heartache, and leave everything in ruins.

✾

"Shit." you curse as you stare at the empty fridge in front of you. an old bar of havarti cheese and two stale apples stare mockingly at you.

so perhaps you haven't gone grocery shopping in quite a while, but you've been busy! with assignments, your friends, and... Sakusa, you have had too much on your head to worry about things like restocking your fridge.

but now it's nearly midnight, and you have yet to eat dinner. your stomach rumbles at you, and you press a hand to it in annoyance.

you can skip a meal, it's not the end of the world.

but then your stomach rumbles again, and it's starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

you check your phone, just to see if you can order in. but with one glance at the delivery price, you click your phone off. you stare at the sad-looking apples and cheese once more, making up your mind.

the convenience store is about a ten-minute walk, five if you run.

without another thought, you grab a hoodie from the coat rack and put it on. you pick up your apartment keys and slip into your shoes, bracing yourself for the cold air.

the walk ends up being somewhat soothing, the normally lively city is quieter. you use the time to think about your relationship - or lack thereof, with Sakusa. you still remember when he professed his love for you two weeks ago.

you remember rushing back into the party and telling your friends you had to leave. Kuroo drove you home, and you spent the night eating leftover icecream and binging Jujutsu Kaisen.

why couldn't you date someone like Gojo?

but then you think someone calmer, more steady would suit your personality well. someone who you could rely on and with a bit of sarcasm perhaps. someone who has dark hair; you always liked curly hair on men.

someone like him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

your thoughts are cut off when you finally get to the store. the lights are bright underneath the dark sky, the bell chiming when you open the door. you quickly grab a few rice balls, and walk to the cashier. it takes you a total of three minutes to get what you want, before you're walking back out with a plastic bag in hand.

you look up as you walk, the stars twinkling prettily. they remind you of his eyes.

you really wish you could stop thinking about him.

Sakusa makes you feel like you've caught a never-ending sickness. like you will wake up each day with your chest in pain, with your eyes swollen from crying paired with your unstable emotions.

its exhausting, you think; caring about people to a point where they cannot understand or reciprocrate your feelings. and then you always end up like this. alone. you wonder how long it will take for the other people you cherish to leave you too.

your thoughts come to a halt when you hear footsteps behind you.

its dark outside, the streetlights only providing a dim yellow glow as you walk. when you turn your head, you notice a man in a hood. your heart immediately plummets.

fuck, what had you been thinking? you should have ordered delivery, screw the price! the money wasn't worth your life.

you walk faster, noticing the person speeding up their steps. your breathing is becoming heavier, and you can feel your legs trembling as you continue to walk. you know you can't go home, otherwise he will know where you live.

you make a detour to head to a park you've been to many times. it was about a five-minute walk from your place, and the thought has you walking faster anxiously.

when you hear his footsteps draw closer, you turn your head and see he is much closer than before.

your breath hitches, and you find yourself tearing up in fear.

you are about to resort to an offensive stance, prepared to swing your bag of riceballs at his head when you bump into something.

you gasp loudly, flinching so harshly at the suddenness of the situation. you look up, finding familiar dark eyes. they look at you with bewilderment, but all you can think about is the pure relief that pools in your stomach, the tears building up in your eyes finally falling.

you rush forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent. your shoulders are trembling, but they calm slightly when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and the other smooth over your upper back.

he looks over your shoulder, and you are unsure what expression he is showing. "Did you need something?" his voice comes out deep and - angry. you wonder if you are hallucinating the protectiveness that coats his tone. his arms tighten around you further, causing you to relax in his embrace.

you wait, body stuck to his. you hear footsteps retreating, and breathe out shakily.

"He's gone." he says, voice low.

you nod, but you stay in your position for a few minutes, content to bury yourself in his embrace after such a terrifying situation.

"Kiyoomi?" you look up, placing your hands on his chest.

he tilts his head downwards, "Are you okay? He didn't do anything, did he?" his brows are furrowed, lips pursed. he looks extremely concerned, and you feel surprised that he seems to care about you so much.

you shake your head slowly, "No, he didn't do anything. I'm - i'm fine." you lick your lips, trying to convince yourself to believe your own words.

Sakusa doesn't answer you, but he does turn his head and glance back before looking down at you. "I'll walk you home. Are you okay to walk? I can carry you."

you don't have much energy left, but you manage to laugh anyway. "I can walk, thank you."

you gently push at his chest, even though you want to continue to stay in his arms. you don't have that privilege any longer, and you shouldn't have assumed you had it in the first place.

you nod, however, and accept his offer to walk you home. you'll let yourself be selfish just this once, and then you'll let him go.

the walk back is silent, but Sakusa sticks close to you. you feel safe with him next to you, regardless of the fact that he hurt you so deeply.

he seems to protect you from others, but never from himself and his words. you sigh tiredly at the thought.

when you get to your apartment, he insists on walking you up. once at your door, you look at him and shuffle on your feet awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I'll go inside now." you reach for your doorknob but he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. his head dips down, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

"Please, just talk to me. I can't handle this." his voice makes you shiver, and you curse your body for reacting that way to him.

you lick your lips, "Can't handle what?"

he opens his eyes, tilting his head further down to catch your gaze. "You being mad at me. You ignoring me. Please, tell me what I need to do to fix this."

the two of you are standing so close, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. he still makes you so nervous after two years of knowing him, and the thought has you annoyed with your weak heart.

a shaky breath escapes your lips. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Sakusa."

he looks at you, face pained. like you being upset is causing him pain, and your chest aches to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

the words bring you back to that night, where you bared your heart to him and he trampled on it without a thought. you feel the urge to let more tears slip out, but you are tired of crying over people that do not care for you. you are tired of being the one that loves more.

but he looks different now. his eyes are filled with remorse, and you want to kiss his frown away. maybe, just maybe, this time you wouldn't be the one who loved too much for their own good.

he wipes a thumb underneath your eye, swiping over your cheek. you hadn't even realized you were crying until the concern in his face grew. it makes you feel embarrassed and angry at yourself, but you can’t find it in you to refuse his comfort.

"You don't mean that, Kiyoomi." your voice cracks involuntarily.

he shakes his head pushing your foreheads closer to one another. "I do, I mean it. I'll say it a million times until you believe me."

you huff out a shaky breath. "A million times is a bit dramatic."

"I'd do it for you." he moves his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple. the action has butterflies erupting in your stomach, unused to something so innocently romantic.

"You realize we have a lot to talk about? It won't be easy. I can't forgive you so quickly." you lean closer, tilting your head up.

he leans his head downwards. "I know. I'm sorry, just give me a chance and we can talk about it. I'll work hard to make you forgive me." the words are whispered close to your lips, his breath hitting your face. the minty scent is so Kiyoomi, it has your heart fluttering.

you know you have a lot to talk about. you can't just gloss over the month you spent apart, and you would have to talk to your friends about your choice to give him another chance. it would be difficult, and a risk. you were tired of pouring love into people who could not understand its substance.

but perhaps you can hope; you can hope that this time things will be different. that you'll love someone who will love you back all the same.

"Okay." you say softly.

he smiles, and you wonder if you are imagining the glassy look in his eyes. "Okay?"

you nod, whispering once more. "Yeah, okay."

he tilts his head down and captures your lips with his own, one arm sliding around your waist and the other in your hair, tugging you impossibly close.

you gasp into it, not expecting the desperation that leaks from his lips. he pushes you against the wall, with you wrapping your arms around his neck.

tomorrow, you'd have a lot to think about. you'll have to talk to him and figure out what's in store for the two of you. you will also have to face people who will surely disagree with your decision.

but that was a problem for the future.

for now, you're content to focus on the warm lips on your own.

EXTRA:

"So, what happened with that girl anyway?" your cheek is smushed on Kiyoomi's chest as the two of you lay in bed. you had come over to his place after his practice, and you were enjoying the skinship and cuddles.

he shifts underneath you, "Which girl?" his voice is drowsy, and you know he's falling asleep. you can't help yourself though, you've been curious.

you lift your head, smiling at his tired eyes. "The one from the game. She kept touching you."

you watch recognition fill his eyes as he hums, "She asked me to grab a coffee a few days after the game. Haven't responded though."

you nod, satisfied. "Are you going to? Respond, that is."

he turns, large arm wrapping around you. "Why would I do that when I have you? I'd rather the both of us get coffee sometime."

you laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?"

he smiles sleepily, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Yes. Let's get coffee soon."

you giggle, snuggling closer. "Okay, sounds good to me."

the surprise you had wanted to give to him after the game sits on his wall, framed and beside his bed. the drawing is one of your best, filled with the overwhelming love you know you could only ever offer to Kiyoomi.

love has always been something daunting for you. to love so wholeheartedly meant the likelihood of someone hurting you was greater. but you don't regret anything, not the slightest bit.

because you know how much love you have to offer, and as long as its to the right person, you know he'll keep your heart safe.

you love him, and you're not sorry.

a/n: 9.7k words later i refuse to read this again:’)

[changbunnies]

Danse Macabre (18+)

♡ Pairing: Rich Serial Killer!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: loosely house on haunted hill inspired, vaguely 1950s au, horror themes, dark romance, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: The handsomely wealthy Christopher Bang and his wife are holding an overnight party at the house on Haunted Hill, and the rules are simple– stay the entire night, and $100,000 is their guest's to take; but little do the guests know that their hosts don't intend to let them leave.

♡ General Warnings: this is a serial killer au! do not read if you aren't prepared to read about death + murder + blood + injury! (i personally think i kept the descriptions tame and mild but everyone has different opinions so just use ur discretion and don't interact if you think you may be bothered by anything listed !), chan is referred to as chris, reader is very complicit in his crimes, they're a sick and twisted couple i fear!

♡ Smut Warnings: hybristophilia (i.e chan being a killer turns reader on), smut begins with chan talking about killing reader (intended to be strictly roleplay because he knows it excites them, but ur free to read it as him being serious if ur freaky like that lol), heavy usage of pet names (darling, my love, princess, sweetheart, dear), dom/sub dynamics, rough and a lil mean dom!chan, big dick chan because it's hot!, hair pulling, knife kink (but without a knife actually being used), corruption kink (not in the traditional way), tiny bit of nipple play, oral (m rec), facefucking, choking (on cock :) ), dacryphilia, manhandling, mirror sex, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: welcome to the first of my late kinktober fics ! this fic is loosely inspired by the opening scenes of the 1959 house on haunted hill movie, which is why the setting is vaguely 1950s!, this is the darkest fic i've tried my hand at writing, but i'm also a very big horror fan so writing this was very fun for me even tho it's not the genre i typically write for!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Darling, the guests are arriving. You must get ready," your husband, Christopher, emphasizes as he steps into the master bedroom you'll be occupying for the evening.

You're sitting at the room's vanity, all of your hair pulled to one side as you finish drying it after your long, relaxing bath. The scent of lavender bath oil and citrus shampoo linger over you– scents brought with you from home because you absolutely refuse to use the luxurious room's complimentary soap; no offense intended to the housekeepers who provided it, of course.

You look sweet as ever in your dainty little pastel blue babydoll gown, your robe delicate and sheer, hanging down off your shoulder and bunching at your elbows. You glance at Chris through the vanity mirror as you begin to comb your hair and free it of any leftover tangles, meeting his gaze with a smile.

"What's the rush, my love? Is it not customary to be late to a party?" Chris chuckles as he steps closer, runs his hand over your shoulder and down your spine as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Normally I'd agree with you. But this is your party, princess. You should greet your guests."

He's right, of course– today is your birthday, and he booked the entire mansion, as well as invited all the guests, at your behest. Christopher is the old money sort– a millionaire from a long line of millionaires before him. And because of that, your party comes with a fun gimmick– survive a night in the haunted mansion, and earn an easy hundred thousand dollars.

Assuming each guest successfully lasts until dawn, that's $700,000 for your husband to pay out– but that's no worry! That's still only chump change to a man as wealthy as Chris– and besides all that, no one's going to last until morning anyways; you're certain of that.

Naturally, as having a haunted house party was your idea, the venue was your choice– and the eerie mansion that sits lonesome upon Haunted Hill was the perfect pick. You've always found it strikingly beautiful from the outside, dreamed of one day stepping inside and drinking in all its Victorian charm.

It's certainly lived up to your expectations– and you're sure Chris will buy it for you if you express to him just how much you adore it; he'd buy you the entire world if you asked him to. For now, it's good enough that he rented it out for your sinister party.

You doubt the mansion is actually haunted– you don't put much stock in the stories of ghosts and ghouls that gave this hill its nickname; but it's a fun little tale, and you don't mind playing into it for the sake of a fun time. And it certainly helps make your party's tag line of "survive the night!" more inconspicuous.

"They're all strangers, sweetheart– I don't think they'll mind if I'm a little late," you tell him with a coy little smile as you set your comb back down on the vanity, satisfied with the condition of your freshly washed hair. He returns your smile with a mischievous one of his own, an amused glint in his eye.

"And remind me, darling, why it is that we've rented this house and invited a bunch of strangers to your party," Chris says as he leans down further, his breath fanning your ear. You giggle, almost innocently– though both of you know you're more than just complicit in his endeavors; you actively fuel them, his sadistic princess.

"You know why, my love," you reply, and to anyone else your smile would seem pure, almost angelic– but Christopher knows better. He knows that his kills excite you– perhaps even more than they excite him. He grabs a fist full of your freshly tamed hair, grins at the gasp you let out when he pulls your head back.

"And this is really what you want for your birthday? To see me stick my knife into someone's neck? To have me return to this room covered head to toe in their blood?" he questions as he looms over you now, but the answer is clear as it always is. He sees the way your thighs squeeze together, sees how the desire darkens your eyes– you’re sick; but that’s what he loves most about you.

"I could kill you too, you know. Take my knife right along your skin, just like this," he says as he runs a finger over one side of your neck to the other, gentle but purposeful in demonstration. Your breath hitches as you squirm in your seat, unable to turn your eyes away from him as he tightens the grip on your hair.

"But you wouldn't," you breathe, and Chris smiles, sweet and sinister as his eyes narrow at you, just how you like it. "Are you certain, dear? Do you think me incapable?" 

"I think you love me, as I love you," you answer, eyes starting to water from the sting of his tug on your scalp. "I love that you trust me," he replies as he trails his finger down, over your collarbones and to your chest. His fingers play with the dainty lace of your gown for just a moment before he slides his hand inside, cupping your breast in his large palm.

"I bet you wouldn't even bat a lid if I touched you with my knife here," he continues as he brushes his thumb over your hardening nipple, "you'd actually like it, wouldn't you, my love? Feeling the cold steel here, knowing I could easily cut you if I wanted to?" You whine, try to nod your head though his grip prevents it– all you can do is answer with a meek "yes" instead. 

"Speak up, darling. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you," he says with an expectant look that sends a shiver down your spine. Chris indulges your every desire, gives you everything in the world you want– so in the moments like these, in which when he asks something of you, you listen.

"Yes! I'd like it!" you answer, as loud and clear as you can bring your voice to be. Chris smiles, the sweet one he always gives you when you listen to him well, with his handsome dimples on display– a stark contrast from the darkness in his gaze. He releases his grip on your hair, cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you, greedy and deep. 

You always manage to get him hot; all it takes is a few simple words and that sweet gaze of yours to get him worked up– always the picture perfect image of innocence, pretty smiles and soft gazes that hide the depravity lingering beneath. So coy and demure, batting your lashes and acting like you don’t know at all what he does in the dead of night, acting like it doesn’t make your stomach twist– not with fear, but with desire.

Chris always sees through your act– he knows you. But he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it– the fun little game you share, where you gasp in faux surprise when he enters the room drenched in a new victim's blood, where your voice trembles and eyes well with tears when he grabs you hard, kisses you deep as the blood coating him transfers to your skin, sharing it with you.

And your answer now– whether it’s part of the game, or you truly would like feeling his knife cutting your pristine, unsullied skin, it doesn’t matter. He meant it when he said he loves that you trust him; and he loves that you wanted this. That all you wanted for your birthday was this party– to see him at his most unleashed, to indulge in the most sinful fun you could share as a couple. 

You never say what he is out loud– don’t call him a monster, a murderer, or a killer. You always dance around it, play innocent, though it’s obvious enough that you know the truth; and that’s more than enough for Chris. In fact, he prefers it this way; he likes to pretend he’s ruining your innocence, likes to pretend he’s a corrupting influence in your pure, perfect world, likes to pretend he’s ruining you.

Maybe in a way, he is– maybe you were a good girl before you found out his secret, maybe catching him in the act changed you, and maybe he’s dragging you down to hell with him by sharing this part of his life with you. Regardless, he loves what you have together– and he’ll keep playing this dangerous game with you, even if it ends in both your demise.

You melt into his kiss, as you always do– his lips, so plump and soft, always feel so perfect when they’re pressed against yours. You open your mouth for him the moment you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and he hums pleasantly as he slips his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the most slow or sensual kiss you’ve ever shared– rather, it’s needy, passionate and urgent.

Chris smiles at you again when he pulls away, enjoying the sparkle beholden in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Open your mouth for me, darling,” he says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You do as instructed, the obedient thing you are for him, and he grins as he sticks his thumb inside your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it after he rests it against your tongue. “Oh, my love– you already knew what to do, didn’t you? Always know just what I want, yeah?” You hum as you nod, staring up at him oh so enticing and pretty. “You’ll suck my cock just like that, won’t you?” he continues, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when you eagerly nod and hum once more.

He removes his thumb from your mouth with a pop, hurries with undoing his belt and pulling his cock out of his trousers. His cock is mesmerizing, as always– so long and thick, with pretty veins and a leaking tip; but you aren’t given any time to idly sit and admire it. He wraps your hair around his fist, forces you to take his cock in your mouth all at once.

You choke and sputter as his cock presses against the back of your throat, your nose meeting his pubic bone in a flash, the neatly trimmed hair there tickling your skin. You can’t pull your head back with his grip forcing you down– but you wouldn’t dream of trying anyways; this is what he wants, and he'll have it.

Eyes watering, you do your best to relax your jaw and throat, to suck him just the way he likes, with your tongue massaging his veins. It’s a struggle to breathe through your nose, unprepared for his cock as you were– and it’s not until your eyes are dimming and head is swimming from the lack of oxygen that he pulls you back to let you take a breath.

It’s harsh, lungs positively burning as you take deep, heaving breaths. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Was that too much for you?” he asks, but his tone lacks its usual sincerity. “Chris–” you cry his name weakly after taking another breath, a few of the stray tears lingering on your lids finally spilling over as you blink. 

“My dear,” he cuts you off, forcing his cock past your lips once more, using the leverage of his grip on your hair to once again push your head down on him, making you take his length into your mouth until you choke on it.

“You weren’t going to complain, were you? No, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, breathier from the pleasure your mouth gives him. “Because I give you everything you want. Everything I do is for you– so you’ll let me use you, yeah?”

He’s right again, of course– you wouldn’t dream of complaining, of depriving him of what he wants from you. And you both know this is far from the limit of what you can take, but as with everything else, he likes when you pretend for him. When you cry and weakly try to protest, half hearted utterances of “too much!” or “I can't!” as tears roll down your cheeks– an act that always leaves him throbbing.

And Chris is good to you, always puts the entire world in the palm of your hands– so just as he says, you’ll thank him by letting him use you however he wants. You can’t nod your head, and any word you try to speak would be muffled and indecipherable– so you allow your jaw to go slack to show him you understand.

“Good, just like that,” he says as you lay your tongue flat, his praise a small kindness before he really lets loose. He easily controls your pace, yanks your hair back until only the tip of his cock remains in your mouth before shoving you back down to the base of it.

You try not to gag and choke, but most attempts go unsuccessful, more tears spilling from your eyes and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth with each full press of his length in your mouth. You can’t even feel the sting on your scalp anymore– all you can focus on is trying to breathe while he uses your mouth.

But all you can breathe is Chris, and he’s unforgiving in the way he moves you on his cock. You jaw quickly begins to ache, and every low groan that he releases is drowned out by the filthy sounds your mouth and throat create as you swallow around his cock.

He doesn’t let up until your vision darkens and blurs again, your nails digging into your own thighs as you try to hold out as long as possible. You gasp when he pulls you off his cock, heart pounding in your chest as the much needed air finally returns to your lungs.

You look up at Chris as he releases his grip on your hair, eyes lidded and hazy. He’s made a real mess of you– from the way his fingers have tousled your hair, to your freshly swollen lips, to the saliva that dripped down from your mouth to your chest. It’s pretty, really– so, so pretty; he almost wants to coo at you.

Instead, he strokes your cheek, offers you a look of faux sympathy– and you’re much too addled to realize he doesn’t mean it. You take the affection regardless of his intent, close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can hear him softly laugh, can easily imagine that smirk he must have on his face right now. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chris reminds you as he takes his hand away from your face. He grabs your arm, lifts you up from your chair and quickly turns you around, shoving everything resting on the vanity aside before he’s bending you over it. Your yelp of surprise is weak considering the abuse your throat just suffered, your hands lying flat as he presses you down against the hardwood. 

Your face smushes against the mirror, and how cold it is in contrast to how hot your face has become nearly makes you jolt. He shoves your panties to the side easily with his fingers, and you can hear him chuckle when you impatiently begin to squirm as he presses his cock against your dripping hole.

“Princess– stay still,” he says, and you can tell from his tone alone that it’s much more a demand than it is a request. You mutter a soft apology as you still your hips, and he waits a moment– waits to see if you’re going to move again before he acts. 

“Please,” you whine, make your desire to have his cock filling you up known, but ultimately don’t move. With a satisfied grin that you can just barely see on his face from your position against the mirror, he slowly, finally, starts to press his length inside your pussy.

He brings his hands to your hips, holds you as you begin to tremble from the feeling of his cock stretching you out. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just squeezes your hips in his hands as he starts to fuck you from behind. “Oh, Chris– fuck,” you gasp, though it quickly becomes a moan. 

His cock feels so deep in this position, and it has your eyes rolling back with each motion of his hips into yours. “You’re so fucking wet, fuck–” he groans, his hands gripping you harder as he finds his rhythm. “Squeezing so tight– feels good, huh, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“Yes, love it! Love you, love your cock, feels so good–” You cry, high pitched whimpers leaving you now as you try to nod your head, though its position against the mirror doesn’t make it easy. Chris groans again before he moves a hand to your hand, threads his fingers through your hair again to pull you back against him.

You reach backwards to support yourself, one of your hands clinging to his shirt while the other holds him behind the neck. “Look at yourself, darling. Look,” he says against your ear, and you focus your eyes on the mirror. You look at Chris through it first, take in the sight of the sweat dripping down his temple and the clench in his jaw as he fucks you. 

Your eyes travel down, met with the sight of your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, threatening to spill out of your babydoll gown. Lower still, you watch as he takes his other hand off your hip, slides it past the hem of your gown to find your clit with his fingers. “Want you to watch yourself cum. Don’t stop looking,” he tells you, and you whine– it won’t be easy, but you’ll listen; you always do. 

He lets go of your hair, and is quick to wrap his arm around your body so that you don’t fall too far forward. You’re so wet that his fingers quickly become slick, and it makes his touch lack friction as they slide messily over your clit, but the feeling is still so delicious that you can’t complain. 

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection, hard to prevent your eyes from rolling back whenever he hits your spot with his cock while playing with your clit, but you keep doing your best for him. He can feel you clenching harder as you continue to watch yourself unravel, feels your nails starting to dig into where they hold his neck.

“C’mon, love– cum for me, you can do it sweetheart,” Chris urges you, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I will! ‘m gonna– gonna cum for you!” you cry; and though you’d been doing so well, you can’t help but let your eyes roll back and close as you finally let go and gush on his cock. If it were a different day, he might scold you for not keeping your eyes open like he told you to– but it is your birthday today, so he’ll let it pass just this once. 

He pushes you back down onto the vanity as you ride out the last of your orgasm, face once again smushing against the mirror as he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back at the wrists, fucks you rough and deep as he chases his own release. You whimper and tremble, unable to escape the sensitivity you feel, or able to grip anything to ground yourself– all you can do is take it. 

“Can’t! Chris, please– I can't, t-too much, too much!” your voice warbles as you cry, the pleasure you feel overwhelming. “Yes you can,” he says as you writhe helplessly in his grasp, your fingers clenching into desperate fists where he holds them against your back. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You’re going to cum again, you know it– he doesn’t even have to touch your clit again to get you there, because the tip of his cock is kissing your spot so good that you’re seeing stars. You’re panting hard, your every breath fogging the mirror, your nails digging into your palms as Chris’ name leaves you in desperate, broken syllables. 

It’s not until you’re finished cumming around him for a second time that his pace finally begins to falter– he lets go of your wrists, squeezes your hips in his hands and thrusts once, twice more before his own high takes him. You whine as you feel his cum spurt deep inside, hot and sticky, leaving you perfectly full.

Chris takes just a moment to steady his breathing before he’s slipping out of you, hurrying to reach to the ground for the tissue box he previously knocked off the vanity. He grabs a tissue, cleans between your legs as gently as he can, though you still end up flinching just a bit.

He then readjusts your panties so they rest on you properly again, and helps you settle back into the vanity’s chair. He kisses you after tucking his softening length back in his trousers, glances in the mirror to make sure nothing else about his appearance is out of place before he has to return to your party.

“Was it good?” you ask earnestly as you look up at him, and he smiles at you, stroking your head sweetly. “Of course, my darling. You’re perfect, as always,” he tells you, and you beam, turning your head to kiss his hand before he takes it away. He glances over at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, laughs in disbelief when he notes the time. 

“Gosh, it’s almost midnight– we really must hurry,” he says, and you giggle, truly without a care in the world that you’ve kept your guests waiting. You turn back to vanity, pout as you take in your appearance– you were too far gone from lust to really realize just how debauched Chris made you, but now you truly see just how much you have to fix. 

“Christopher! You’ve ruined me!” you complain before looking around the floor for your comb. “Apologies, princess,” he chuckles, leaning down to pick up your comb for you once you’ve spotted it. He hands it to you, but doesn’t completely release his grip to let you take it until after you kiss him in thanks.

“Now then– I’ve got to go entertain our guests. But hurry, won’t you, darling? I wouldn’t want to start the real fun without you,” Chris says as he rests his hand on the knob of the bedroom door, and you smile as you look at him through the mirror, making quick work of fixing your hair. 

“Of course, my love. I wouldn’t miss my party for the world,” you tell him; and despite what he said, it’s not long until you hear the first shrill scream of the night. Dressed in your prettiest red dress and heels, you peek your head out of the bedroom door– and Chris stands there, knife in hand with blood speckled over his face.

“Sorry darling, didn’t have a choice,” he explains, and you giggle as you fully step out of the room, carefully stepping over the blood that decorates the floor to kiss him before shooing him away to continue. Your birthday party has fully kicked off now– and it’ll certainly be one to remember.

[idyllicwillowtree]

God Eddie, You're So In Love With Me. (part 2)

Genre: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader, fem!reader, angst/fluff, hurt/eventual comfort, friends to lovers

Summary: Being in Hellfire, you’ve been exposed to your fair share of bullying. One day, Jason takes it a step too far.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: bullying, anaphylaxis, poisoning, no physical descriptions of Y/N so you don’t have to look like Dustin, reader uses she/her, reader has a peanut allergy, swearing, angy Eddie, hospital

Author’s note: Thank you so much for the positive comments on part 1! I was feeling insecure about this fic so that was very nice y'all are so sweet <3

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Eddie looked to you, hoping to see you looking up at him and smiling that way you do whenever he uses his renaissance voice. Instead he met your panicked eyes.

“Hey Henderson,” Jason called from across the cafeteria. “What happens now? Should we call an ambulance?” Andy shoved at his shoulder playfully and chortled alongside Jason.

Panic gripped you as you connected the dots.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, “call an ambulance.” 

All the Hellfire members whipped their heads toward you, witnessing an angry rash spreading across your skin and your breathing becoming audible as you tried to suck in as much oxygen as possible.

Eddie’s heart clenched painfully as he looked down at you, remembering the severity of your allergy after Dustin explained it to him one time. Still, Eddie was taken aback by the speed at which your symptoms were progressing.

You reached a hand out to Eddie as the choked coughs took over. He ignored your hand in favor of catching your body before it hit the ground. With trembling limbs he carefully lowered you to the grimy tile of the cafeteria floor.

“Fuck,” Eddie cursed, “Dustin! What do we do?!”

Dustin had froze. Panic set in as he watched his older sister struggle more and more to take in a full breath. A small crowd began to gather and the excited chatter of the cafeteria simmered into hushed whispers and gasps. Everyone was watching, and not in the way Eddie was used to.

“Henderson!” Eddie snapped. 

At that, Dustin went to work. “Mike, go call 911! Lucus, see if the nurse has an epipen. GO!” The sheep dispersed. Dustin picked up your bag with trembling hands and began digging through your books and school supplies, searching for the epinephrine injector he swears you kept in there.

Eddie turned his attention back to you, trusting that Dustin had the rest handled. At the look of panic in your blotchy and swollen face he almost froze too. A chilling dread spread through his veins as you began clawing at your throat, doing everything you could to open your airways. 

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me princess. You’re gonna be alright, gonna be just fine, you hear me? D-Dustin will getchu your meds and you’ll be good to go,” Eddie rambled, trying to convince himself just as much. He gently cradled your warm face and stroked your hair to try and soothe you.

With every second passing you became closer and closer to death. Eddie looked up in desperation. His red-headed neighbor (Max, he thinks her name is) snatched the backpack out of a distraught Dustin’s hands and turned it upside down, emptying its contents. Robin was there too and put a comforting arm around your brother while Max took over the search for the injector. Eddie was vaguely aware of a teacher trying to pry him off of you but he’d risk getting expelled for shoving a teacher if it meant staying by your side. 

“Got it!” Max exclaimed, holding the orange and clear tube triumphantly. She slid to her knees on your otherside, not hesitating to jam the needle into your leg and holding it there.

Eddie flinched at the force it took to inject you. You took your first full breath, allowing him to take one as well. Your eyes were drooping slightly as the medicine was introduced into your system.

“Hey, there she is,” Eddie said gently.

Your tired eyes met his and he could’ve sworn the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

The paramedics arrived and Eddie hesitantly let you go so they could treat you. It was a blur of navy blue and red as they hooked you up to numerous tubes and slid an oxygen mask over your head. 

You became slightly more alert at the sight of strangers surrounding you as the stretcher clicked into place, raising you a couple feet off the ground. You moved your head tiredly trying to catch sight of anyone you knew. Anyone to comfort you.

“Dustin, go with her,” Eddie told the curly haired boy. He looked up at him with wet eyes that clenched at Eddie’s heart. “She needs you, go on.”

Eddie watched the determination emerge on the freshman’s face as he walked through the paramedics declaring that he was your brother, allowing him to be by your side. 

Swallowing thickly past the dryness in his mouth, Eddie watched you get rolled out on the stretcher. 

He turned numbly to see that Lucas and Mike had returned and started digging through your lunch, in an attempt to find out what it was that could’ve caused your reaction. As the two predictably began to bicker, Eddie grabbed the cup of applesauce and slowly brought the spoon out. To his horror, he scooped out a few small round nuts mixed with the smooth texture of the applesauce. 

His darkened eyes snapped up, immediately finding Jason. He at least had the decency to look scared, his skin white as a sheet. True terror shining through as he came to realize the severity of what he did. He shook his head slightly, pleading with Eddie. For what, he wasn’t sure. But he could give a shit.

The grip on the applesauce tightened, causing it to tremble, before he launched it in Jason's general direction. A fire of rage lit up Eddie's entire being, consuming any reason or restraint within him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You could’ve killed her!!” Eddie roared, the words ripping from his throat like a thunderclap.  Every fiber in his being screamed for justice, determined to ensure that no harm would ever come to you again. 

“I-I-I didn’t think…I didn’t mean to-” Jason blubbered.

“Not good enough!” Eddie snapped. He charged forward, driven by the need to avenge your pain. Just when he was closing the distance between them a thick arm wrapped around his upper body. “LET ME GO!”

Eddie struggled against the firm grip that held him back from doing to Jason what he should've done a long time ago. If Eddie was strong enough, he could've saved you, stopped all of this bullying in its tracks before Jason had ever even looked in your direction. His strength never came from muscles or brute force, but from his anger—the primal need to protect those he loved. He was so consumed by his rage that a red haze blurred his vision. Or were those his tears?

“Eddie, man, don’t do this,” Doug said, doing his best to calm his friend.

“Please,” Eddie pleaded, losing some of his fight. “Just let me go.” 

“Dude, if you get into a fight you won’t be able to see Y/N in the hospital,” the bassist whispered in Eddie’s ear. He looked over and saw Principle Coleman closing in on them, there wasn’t much time left. “We can handle it, just go while you can.”

A wave of overwhelming frustration washed over Eddie as the struggle against Doug’s hold diminished. Tears welled up in his eyes as his chest released his rage and tightened back up with helplessness and despair.

He didn’t let it consume him though, taking off in the opposite direction of the principle, his sheep following close behind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the van ripped into the hospital parking lot, Eddie finally took notice of how many stowaways he had. Lucas, Mike, Max, Robin, and even Nancy all burst through the double doors at the back of his skunky smelling van and made their way to the emergency room entrance.

Eddie was the first one through the doors, eyes scanning the waiting area for his curly haired friend. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the one and only King Steve sitting with the boy. 

Steve noticed them first, taking the lead on letting them know what’s going on. He explained that you’d be fine but the doctors are running some tests and getting you hooked up to the necessary machines. It’ll be a little longer before Eddie gets to see you with his own eyes.

Eddie turned on his heel and walked through the doors he just came through as Steve explained that your mom was called but was on a trip with her girlfriends and won’t be able to make it back until tomorrow.

The disinfected smell of the hospital only offered to heighten Eddie’s desire for a cigarette. He finds solace in the only coping mechanism he has under his belt, even if he knew it was bad for him in the long run. The stress of the day weighed heavily on him as he leaned on the brick wall of the hospital outside. The familiar routine of lighting up offered a good distraction, the only way to momentarily ease his anxiety.

That was until your brother found him. He silently stood next to him, not feeling the need to fill the silence with anything but the gentle breeze and the birds chirping in the distance. But it made Eddie feel uneasy.

“I’d offer you a smoke, but I don’t want to corrupt you more than I already have,” Eddie said with a sad laugh.

Ignoring Eddie’s comment, Dustin asked, “you remember that one time when Hellfire came over to my house for a session? When the theater kids needed the drama room at school?”

Eddie nodded his head slowly, releasing the smoke from his lungs as he did so.

“I was still in middle school so I had only heard about you from Y/N. She had this weird way of speaking about you. It was in a way I had never heard her speak about anyone before.”

Eddie’s heart punched against his ribs painfully, his insecurities taking over.

“She was nice enough to let me watch your campaign so I could get ideas for the campaign I was doing with Mike and Lucas, and our other friend Will. I think she regretted it because of the Reese's Pieces incident.”

Eddie couldn’t help but start chuckling embarrassingly at the memory. “God, that was so stupid,” he smacked his forehead in an attempt to stop his mind from reliving one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. 

-

The Hellfire members flooded into your home, bringing chips, candy, and drinks to share. Your first time hosting the club was going great, until Dustin noticed the bag of Reese’s Pieces in Eddie’s hand.

“My sister is too nice to say anything but-” Dustin started.

“Stop, Dustin-”

“-we can’t have those in the house.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinched beneath his bangs, “what? Why not?”

“She’s allergic to peanuts.”

Before you could roll your eyes at your little brother and reassure him it was fine, Eddie turned and chucked the bag out your kitchen’s open window leaving you standing there in shock and Eddie horrified by his own impulse.

-

“I think that’s when she fell in love with you.”

Eddie’s head whipped over to Dustin. The kid had the audacity to look smug after completely shattering his world view. His mind spun with the revelation.

Love, a word so potent, was now intertwined with his thoughts of your relationship. Eddie knew he liked you, a lot, but his brain never brought him to love. He replayed moments from your friendship in his head, searching for the signs, trying to decipher if Dustin was telling the truth. If the sentiment was truly real. A mix of surprise and uncertainty overwhelmed him, but there was also something warm and hopeful there. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

He needed to see you and hear it from you directly. A million thoughts and memories raced through his mind, but one thing was clear–he needed to be with you, to tell you how he felt.

part 3

tags: @beeblisss @fishwithtitz @leah-loves-lilies

[stariikis]

operation : be your boyfriend | yang jungwon

synopsis ; thousands of ways to say, 'i love you,' and jungwon can't even carry out one special procedure without messing up. that is, until your birthday rolls around and you're greeted by the kitten you've always dreamed of owning, at your doorstep...

pairing ; clumsy!jungwon x fem!reader | genre ; fluff, crushing, confessions | wc ; 2721 | warnings n notes ; you're not oblivious, you're just a little bit of a mastermind sociopath! appearances of sunoo riki heeseung and eunchae in this fic!

baby... i'm just tryna play it cool... but i just can't hide that... i want you ઇઉ

OPERATION 1 : SECRET ADMIRER

“Clearly, he’s not listening to us.” 

“Yang Jungwon…” 

“Yang Jungwon!” 

Jolting back to the present, Jungwon coughs awkwardly and jerks his gaze away from the girl across the room. He didn’t realise he was staring at the mere back of her head the whole time… how embarrassing for him. Shifting his gaze back to his groupmates, staring at him with a bemused expression, he clears his throat. 

“I’m on task,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a pathetic croak from the roof of his mouth. He has to clear his throat again. 

“What a liar,” Riki scoffs, following Jungwon’s prior gaze all the way to the front of the classroom. Doubled over with laughter by the board, yn seems to have an aura of gold surrounding her figure. In between rays of sunlight and flecks of fairydust, the way she smiles lights up the whole room like she’s in a fantasy book. 

Barely trying to conceal it, Sunoo stares towards her direction. Ironically, the words that leave his mouth as he does so are, “can you at least try to hide it? You’re too obvious.”

“I can’t believe she can’t tell yet,” Heeseung mutters. 

For some reason, the whole table goes quiet. In the middle of the silence, Jungwon can only hear the clacking heels of their Maths teacher walking around and the soft rustle of papers, amiable chatter as groups begin to complete their assigned project. But a single voice stands out in the crowd. 

Never mind. Jungwon only hears her now. 

Isn’t it ridiculous? How he believed that his initial crush on her would be short-lived, nothing more than an impulsive attraction that would fade once he got to know her. When she walked up to him, however, saying nothing but a simple ‘thank you for sending me notes for yesterday’s class!’, he felt like his heart would race out of his chest. Unfortunately for him, she was too charismatic. 

With a perfect all-kill streak of grades, she’s never gotten a grade below 90. Not a point out of place. It’s the kind of person Jungwon aspires to be, a much better version of himself. Yes, he gets straight As every term and yes he’s been the class president for three years on end, but it’s nothing compared to her level. 

For the past two years, ever since she joined the class with an air exuding and radiating sheer confidence, Jungwon has been trying hard to beat her. Once would be enough for him. He’s been trying so hard to defeat her, however, that he’s forgotten to try to tame his feelings for her too. 

About a week after he met her, the butterflies churning deep inside his stomach were already too much for him. In her locker, silver letters Jungwon begged Sunoo to help him calligraph donned the bottom of an indirect, vague love letter. From your secret admirer. He doesn’t even remember now what he wrote inside, but he does recall many descriptions of her pretty smile and easygoing personality. 

It was only a day later he found out that he had accidentally dropped it in the locker next to hers. Lee Heeseung from the class beside them walked past, a basketball under one arm and the other hand holding the letter and reading it aloud to Riki, walking briskly beside him. In an instant, Riki looked straight at Jungwon across the hallway and facepalmed. 

OPERATION 1 : SECRET ADMIRER : FAILED

wait a minute, what is this? my heart is going lub-dub, just keeps pounding

even from afar, oh, my, gosh! ; pulling me close, you're, my, crush, like a superpower

OPERATION 2 : INDIRECT CONFESSIONS

Daydreams. Flitting endlessly through your mind, like a paradox. It’s impossible to zone out during Biology. How dull you find the zoomed in aspects of all the systems in your body. Sure, you want to pursue something medical-related, but this class just isn’t it. 

“Jungwon’s staring at you again,” whispers your seatmate, Eunchae. She uses her pen to gesture behind you. Two seats diagonal to you both, Jungwon notices your glances his way and pretends to look elsewhere. He’s resting on the palm of his hand, the paper he took out to take notes on completely blank. 

“I can’t believe he’s the class president again,” you mutter with a tinge of bitterness. 

Eunchae sighs. She’s clearly heard enough of your one-sided disliking towards the student leader, and it shows in the way she decides to disregard you. “You don’t have to hate him. He obviously doesn’t reciprocate the hard feelings.” 

Of course he doesn’t. 

You try to hide a triumphant smile. Of course Jungwon doesn’t harbor any hatred towards you. Rather, it’s quite evident in the way he always asks you to be the first player in his team during PE, asks you if you want to group up with him, makes excuses to brush past you in the hallway – he’s always wanted something more than friendship. 

The one time you did agree to do a Korean Language project with him, however, when he came over to record the podcast you had written, all that got done was a bunch of giggles into the portable microphone. Jungwon, admitably, had a good sense of humor. And it, unfortunately, matched well with yours. 

You’re making this more solemn than it needs to be, you think to yourself, biting back a small smile to yourself. Shouldn’t it be a good thing that you’ve got Jungwon wrapped around your finger? 

Spinning your pen smartly, you sit up. Right. You’ve gotten out of many late homework submissions and responsibilities because Jungwon would literally cover for you with visible hearts in his eyes when he talks about you. You know you should feel guilty for exploiting him, but it’s just what a friend does, isn’t it? 

Friend. Another memory fades in. 

“Yahh, you’re so down bad you can’t even let her do her own work,” Sunoo mutters to Jungwon, quietly rearranging the papers. He thinks you’re out of earshot, but you can hear their conversation clearly from your desk. 

Jungwon shrugs his shoulders in the corner of your eye, and you swear he glances over at you for a second. “She’s my friend. Are you trying to say you never copy my homework?” 

Sunoo tsks loudly. “It’s different. She doesn’t need the help! You’ve seen her grades.” 

They divert into a small argument about whose grades are better, but you’re not really listening anymore. Your heart is starting to race uncontrollably, and you look desperately down at your chest. You’re trembling from the fact that Jungwon called you his friend? How pathetic. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as if juicing your brains of unwanted thoughts. 

But you can’t help but let out a short curse when your heart doesn’t slow down, your cheeks don’t cool off. Only Jungwon wants this. Not you too… 

And so when Eunchae finally gets bored of Bio once again, she leans in and pokes you. “Anyway, you know Jungwon has the fattest crush on you.” 

“Oh really?” you murmur, averting your eyes back to the liver diagram in front of you. Where you’re supposed to label, ‘oxygen-rich-blood’, you’ve scribbled ‘only jungwon’ in illegible handwriting. You pretend to act surprised, hiding the words with the palm of your hand. “He didn’t ask you to say that? Did he? As a prank?” 

Eunchae rolls her eyes. “It’s not a prank.” 

“So he asked you to say it.” 

“...” 

“I see.” You reach into your pencil case and pull out an eraser to wipe away the traces of your daydreams. It’s a good thing you do, because Eunchae suddenly looks over and teases you for falling asleep in lesson when you’re usually such a good student. If only she knew about the homework incidences. If only she knew about the thoughts that run through your head. 

What he’s trying to do is kind of… cute.

OPERATION 2 : INDIRECT CONFESSIONS : FAILED

my heart feels like a giant magnet, everything about you sticks to my heart, boy

we're magnetized, i admit it. this time, i want!

OPERATION 3 : LET'S GET IT!

She’s got to be joking, right? There’s no way… 

“Yeah, idiot, you’re invited to my birthday party. You got a problem with that?” (Name) scoffs at Jungwon, retracting the simplistic black and white invitation card in her hand. “Maybe you don’t deserve this?” 

“No!” He says a little too fast, reaching out to snatch it from her playfully. 

He reads it with a poorly hidden smile. Is he even trying at this point? He’s been on the verge of a proper confession for a while now. Why would he want to hide the fact that he really really really wants her to be his? 

“15 May?” He sighs, feigning disappointment. “Too bad, I can’t make it.” 

Wait for it…

“Really? That’s too bad,” she replies monotonously, walking away without a care. Not the reaction Jungwon was expecting. He releases a breath of air, only now realising that he’s been holding his breath. How boring of her. 

“I was lying!” He calls, smoothing out his school uniform and running down the hallway after her. “I’m definitely coming!” 

She clearly starts to laugh as she runs away from him, yelling, “come or not, it doesn’t matter to me!” 

Jungwon doesn’t give up. With a hand running through his hair, he chases her down the halls. He would chase after her for eternity if he had to. Eventually, he catches up to her with a tap on the shoulder. WIth a mock-annoyed look, she slows down, shoving his shoulder.

“What’s your problem?” She huffs, “Can’t I get a break around here?” 

Jungwon smiles. With just the right amount of delusion, maybe he can convince himself that whatever she’s spouting is just a white lie. Untruths to cover up the truth. She wants him back, he swears!

“You’ll never get a break,” he mumbles, suddenly going shy as he leans in closer. Just like I practiced with Riki. Just like I practiced…

“Annoyi–”

“From running through my mind all day.” 

When Jungwon finally dares to open his eyes (yes, he was so scared he closed them), he’s shocked to see an empty spot next to him. When he looks up and down the hallway, (Name) sticks out her tongue at him, taunting him. The unbothered glimmer in her eyes reveals that she hasn’t heard a thing. 

Once again, Jungwon leaves school with a pit of mild disappointment in his stomach. Not so upset that it hurts like hell, but the wound’s deep enough to leave a scratch.

OPERATION 03 : LET'S GET IT! : FAILED

completely opposite, our type ; you're J and i'm so P

S and N, polar opposites, but that's what pulls us in

INTERMISSION : BABY YOU'RE MY CRUSH

You hear it all.

What would Jungwon say when he finds out, that for a while now, you’ve been wrestling with your own complicated feelings, playing a game of tug of war inside your own heart? Nobody even knows you know. Nobody would even suspect you, of all people, to reciprocate Jungwon’s feelings. And, by this encounter, even Jungwon himself has no idea. 

i'll make it have a green light, girl's gotta have guts. so, let's go let's go, let's go let's go!

don't wanna hide it, the magnet in my heart. gonna follow my feelings and get with you, boy

OPERATION 4 : CATCH SOME FELINES (FEELINGS)

What would Jungwon do for love? Just ask him this one question. He’ll probably lie and tell you he doesn’t know, and doesn’t fall for the traps set out by catching feelings, but it won’t explain why he’s outside (name)’s house on her birthday at 8 in the morning. He could very well have come at 9, an hour before the party starts, but he wants to have some time alone with her. 

To present his gift to her, snugly bundled up in his arms. And to, uh, say some other stuff. 

He looks down at the pearl-white fluffy being, purring contently in his arms. Just a while ago, he got his inspiration for a birthday gift for her. She may have casually brought it up in the midst of discussion for yet another group project, but miniscule things like that stick with Jungwon for ages. 

“I want a cat…” she whines, when their group’s gotten sidetracked from their discussion topic. (what do you think the rate of pet ownership is like in Korea?) “they’re so cute. Oh, even better, a kitten!” 

“Just get one then?” Eunchae rolls her eyes, and Riki hums in agreement. 

“I would. Even my mum wants one. But it’s so much work to adopt one.” 

So much work to adopt one? Jungwon scoffs in his mind. Now take a look at the lengths I’ve gone to for you. And I don’t even know if you like me back. Am I stupid or am I stupid? 

“Yes, Jungwon? Can I know why you’ve summoned me so early in the morning?” Suddenly, the front door opens after many persistent tries to ring the doorbell. “I know you’re excited for my birthday… but this is just weird.” 

She doesn’t notice the kitten squirming in his arms, still rubbing her eyes blearily. She looks so exhausted that Jungwon wants to apologise for awakening her and almost runs away to save himself from the awkwardness. But he stands his ground. This time, he will succeed. 

The chronicles of Yang Jungwon’s confession story. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

“Happy birthday.” He murmurs softly, daring to take a step closer and hold out his arms. At first, she squints down at the blur of fur in his hands, face smeared with confusion. It’s only when the furry ball lets out a small mew that she gasps and jerks her head back up. “I… I, uh…” 

Seeing her so amazed, with tears gathering in her eyes from the euphoria, he loses track of his words. His mind goes blank. Not knowing whether to continue calmly, or panic and die on the spot, he struggles to speak and feels his cheeks quickly growing with warmth. 

What if, just like we practiced doesn’t reassure him anymore, with the last time he used it as an affirmation turning out to be the greatest embarrassment of his life? Just like we practiced? He’s never practiced to be fluent and smooth. He’s always naturally been that way. He’s never had to fumble for the right words to say. Just like we practiced? When would he ever practice worst comes to worst with Riki? Come to think of it, he probably should have. He can’t handle standing here with such shame any longer. 

“I’m sorry for being so annoying I just really really like you and I don’t know whether you’ll like this gift or not, but I can’t go another day thinking you probably don’t like me back you can just reject me that’ll be better than misleading myself forever and ever…” 

He blurts in a small voice. 

And then, he repeats himself, louder and more confident. Like he usually is. “I like you…” 

“You must be blind, Yang Jungwon,” she says, laughing through the tears. A moment of silence passes as Jungwon tries to comprehend what he’s just heard. Blind? Why? She’s not going to say… “I like you, too?” 

It’s a question. It makes his heart race, but it doesn’t seem like enough.

“You do?” He chokes, his voice failing him. Blood rushes to his ears. “You don’t.” 

“Wait.” She clears her throat and claims, “I got nervous. I do. And it’s not the kitten, I know what you’re thinking…” 

Taking a step back, she receives the kitten into her arms and coos while Jungwon tries to process everything. “Though I’m so surprised, and so grateful. This gift is the most thoughtful thing ever. No joke.” 

She knows what I’m thinking… 

Jungwon frowns and steps even closer. He’s so close and she’s so pretty, teary eyelashes gleaming in the morning sunlight. “So you’ve known what I’ve been thinking, huh?” 

“I have.” 

The hard, challenging tone that seeps into her voice is all too familiar to Jungwon. When she leads him into her house for the second time in his life, all he’s thinking is, what a way to reminisce the moment he fell in love with her. 

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, but I do!” 

A game of wits, you could call it, is what sixteen year old them are playing. Head to head in number of points, they’re competing for first place. Jungwon hides behind his whiteboard, eagerly awaiting her response. She’s never going to guess what he had in mind. She’ll never write the same exact thing, letter for letter— 

“I know what you’re thinking.” She whispers mockingly, smirking as she reveals her answer while peeking over the top of his board. The answers match up. She’s won. “I know exactly what goes on in your head.”

OPERATION 4 : CATCH SOME FELINES (FEELINGS) : SUCCESS!

no push and pull, gonna run to you ; our chemistry yeah, i'm in too deep now no push and pull, no regrets, gonna zero in on you ; never holding back straight ahead, yeah 

this time, i want!

more of my works >

[shy-sapphic-ace]

List of queer books I read, loved & recommend!

(There isn't any particular order, I wrote these as I remembered them)

Master Of One - Jaida Jones & Dani Bennett (mlm, fantasy, very cool worldbuilding and magic system, funny, cool characters)

Legends & Lattes - Travis Baldree (wlw, fantasy, very soft & chill vibes)

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon (wlw, high fantasy, cool worldbuilding, kinda reminds me of LOTR but with more dragons and feminism and lesbians)

Even Though I Knew The End - C.L. Polk (wlw, supernatural noir, cool 1930s detective story with angels & demons, I loved this one!)

The Love Interest - Cale Dietrich (mlm, science fiction, very cool concept)

The Darkest Part Of The Forest - Holly Black (side mlm, fantasy, cool fae lore)

The Weight Of The Stars - K. Ancrum (wlw, not quite science fiction but space stuff is involved, lovely and complex characters)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz (mlm, fiction, very nice in general, there is also a sequel)

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue - Mackenzi Lee (mlm, historical and vaguely fantasy, nice story but I preferred the sequel honestly)

The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy - Mackenzi Lee (wlw, the sequel to the one before, more fantasy elements than the first, asexual main character!!)

Gallant - V.E. Schwab (no romance, but in the background one of the characters(?) uses they/them pronouns, very cool dark fantasy vibe)

Stranger Than Fanfiction - Chris Colfer (gay main character, trans main character, coming-of-age, nice book)

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda (yes it's the Love, Simon book, mlm, fiction, pretty nice)

They Both Die At The End - Adam Silvera (mlm, sci-fi ish but mostly fiction, cool ideas, but the ending is sad! Very amazing book though, I haven't read the prequel yet)

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid (wlw, bi main character, historical fiction, cool story, just a neat book in general)

This Is How You Lose The Time War - Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone (wlw, sci-fi, very cool time travel stuff!! and very beautiful, it felt like reading poetry most of the time)

One Last Stop - Casey McQuinston (wlw, background trans & pan & queer characters, sci-fi or fantasy idk, but time travel, I loooved this book, great)

The House In The Cerulean Sea - TJ Klune (mlm, fantasy, THIS BOOK oh my gosh you should read it!!, just cute and lovely and good)

Under The Whispering Door - TJ Klune (mlm, fantasy, this book is also sooo amazing, great character development and awesome relationships and stuff, it's been a while since I read it but it was so good)

In the Lives of Puppets - TJ Klune (mlm, ace main character!!, sci-fi, now THIS is found family, oughh feelings. argh, tj klune you’ve done it again, a human and his family of funky robots… I love them)

And They Lived... - Steven Salvatore (nblm, fiction, about gender identity and learning to love yourself, read it a while ago but it was very nice)

I Wish You All The Best - Mason Deaver (nblm, fiction, about finding your identity and people who care about you, very cute and sweet)

The Song Of Achilles - Madeleine Miller (mlm, historical, very good in general)

Carry On - Rainbow Rowell (mlm, background wlw in the third book, fantasy, it's a trilogy, basically Harry Potter if it was gay and also better)

Silver In The Wood - Emily Tesh (mlm, fantasy, very pretty, lots of fae stuff and lovely descriptions, it has a really good sequel too)

Pretty much anything by Alice Oseman (all cute and lovely and great, though I've only read Radio Silence so far I hear only good things, Solitaire is on my to-read list)

I Kissed Shara Wheeler - Casey McQuinston (wlw, fiction, it's been a while but I liked this book)

The Falling In Love Montage - Ciara Smyth (wlw, fiction, this book was so cute and funny and deeply emotional it made me Feel way too many things, I'd definitely recommend it)

What Big Teeth - Rose Szabo (a bit of queerness all around, fantasy, werewolves and monsters, this one was pretty cool!, lots of original ideas for the world/character building)

His Quiet Agent - Ada Maria Soto (mlm, asexual, fiction, about like spies but this book was so gentle and sweet I wanted to cry in the best way possible)

Some By Virtue Fall - Alexandra Rowland (wlw, historical fiction(?), theatre drama!! rival romance!! duels!!, a very good read in general)

Don’t Want You Like a Best Friend - Emma R. Alban (wlw, historical fiction, I’m not usually one for regency romances, but I really liked this!!, very cute and lots of drama, and there’s a sequel coming out soon!)

[dalliancekay]

I'm just gonna write out what I think cos if someone sends me this again for the 113th time, I'm gonna snap. Look. Interviews (months!) before a premiere of something are tricky. You gotta be careful and VAGUE with what you say and what you want people to expect. Mostly creators focus on the themes in the first, maybe second episodes or so too trying not to give away much. Just the bare bones, what is already expected anyway. After all, they want you to watch it and go: "Ahhhh...." It was the same in S2 as well. (David describing in interviews how unmoored Crowley was in S2, how kind of disappointed etc and Michael how Az is also a bit disconcerted by not having a job, something big to belong to). But that's a description of - how we find the Ineffables in ep1, rather than describing the whole of Season 2. And there was a book first before the series and you must admit Aziraphale and Crowley are a bit different in the series than they are in the book. So caution was needed. PLUS their story has evolved again. It doesn't now end in the Ritz (I know it never really did for Neil and Terry who clearly wanted them to deal with the whole system somehow). The husbands have more trouble ahead. More details were added. We got more of their story, their journeys. Crowley doesn't change and is just waiting for Aziraphale to catch up with him is not much of a story, don't you think? Aziraphale is a naïve goody two shoes angel who has to realise Heaven is bad - is just so simple I'd be angry if I was Neil and read that. Well, okay, I AM angry.

And I'm sorry but Aziraphale has not lived a guarded life. He has lived a life of fear and anxiety with bosses who underestimate, belittle and laugh at him and think he's soft and rather pointless. Does anyone know what the question was Neil answers?

Yeah, Aziraphale changes a lot in S1 (esp first 2 eps, he's kind of forced to think about the stuff that was always kinda there but swept under a rug a bit in is mind). Crowley throws out - we should do something. This whole Armageddon thing, I don't like it. He is so much a questioner of everything, isn't he. Why does it have to be tis way. Makes no sense, what if... And generally, he doesn't have much to lose. If Hell wins, well, he knows what it's like. If Heaven wins, well, it'd be marginally better? Just about? If he survives to see it? Still sucks balls tho. So yes, David is right that Crowley NEEDS Aziraphale to see things his way and quickly. Cos EARTH.

Aziraphale knows the Earth came with a manual and an expiry date. He even told this to Angel!Crowley aeons ago.

So Aziraphale's journey (is not stopping believing Heaven is good and truth and light) is believing that he has choices. That the Plan might be Ineffable but it doesn't have to follow what he was told it must follow.

Crowley says, look, let's try, what do we have to lose. You like Earth as much as I do. And he gets Aziraphale to agree, they hatch a plan.

We watch Crowley come to love and trust Aziraphale through the ages after all he has been through. We watch Aziraphale to guard their little existence and carefully push at boundaries of what he thinks he can get away with. He wonders at what things are really like. What do they mean.

Their journey, is towards each other.

I don't know how they will smash the System before they fall into a tight embrace and never let go, but I know they will. Even if they have no idea yet that that is even possible. How could they.

And if I see one more post about how Aziraphale was backsliding and choosing his ‘faith’ over Crowley in the Final 15, I will set the internet on fire.

I can never decide if Heaven and Hell are more like mafia or like a dictatorship. Maybe a mix of both. Just cos they couldn't be killed, they were left alone for a bit. Didn't last long though, did it. They needed to be separated so they don't stop another go at destroying the little Universe project God started. I guess the Archangels are quite fed up with it.

Remember. Aziraphale and Crowley have nowhere to go. They never had. The best they could do was keep their little places on Earth. For themselves. For each other. Until they couldn't.

If you thought Aziraphale won't take the chance to have a tiny glimmer of an opportunity to destroy the fucking system in whatever way he can come up with (instead of what, being downmoted, having his memory erased too?), than you don't get him at all. Did he want to stay? You heard him say it. Was he allowed to? (No, really Metatron, nice chat but do fuck off for real now, I have a date with my demon). If you think Metatron wouldn't be back with a punishment for helping Gabriel than I don't know what to tell you.

Remember this?

And then they threatened the demon he loves.

ALSO Why do people keep bringing this back to justify their vague (or not so vague) dislike of Az (but but Neil said "I think Aziraphale needs to learn") cos they think Az betrayed Crowley by leaving or something. The angel is just so stubborn. And he just won't listen to Crowley... right? /s And they ignore all the other wonderful things Neil says about Aziraphale. Especially pointing out again and again and again how smart Aziraphale is. And you can see this. In canon. On screen. In the words and scenes of what Neil wrote. You can see Aziraphale's struggles - he is a part of something he disagrees with and has no way out (Hell is not a way out btw) and tries to live in his existence in the little bubble with Crowley while being extremely careful not to have it burst. Until it inevitably does. Just as he always knew it would. But okay, if you want to have Good Omens be about a demon who figured everything out and is now waiting for his fluffy little angel to catch up and apologise to him (a million times) for being stupid so they can finally ride into the sunset, have at it. TL;DR - Heaven is good and Heaven should/could be good are two different things - Aziraphale is not an idiot; whether he still believes God is good/neutral/whatever and just the management bad or not is up in the air, we can't know unless we ask him, but it's definitely not so simple as he needs to see it's bad, like Crowley did, end of story - The Ineffables HAVE NOWHERE TO GO. There isn't a secret third option where they can leave for and be happy if only Aziraphale opened his eyes - it's what the story is about - Crowley left Heaven for an even worse place. It would make zero sense for Aziraphale to follow his journey. Crowley is not free and doesn't have all the answers - I bet it has never occurred to either of them the whole System can be ever changed (we don't even know if it can be. The System is bigger than the UNIVERSE) - But I think that's what they'll do in S3

[banditthewriter]

Home - A Halsin drabble

I said I would and I did! A short 800+ words with our favorite druid! I wrote this in about 20 minutes. It is also the first thing I've written in over a year.

I know this isn't what most people follow me for but hey. We all change sometimes!

Enjoy!

***

Light pierced through the back of your eyelids. A groan came from your throat as pain started to throb between your temples. Your last memories were beyond recall as you tried to remember where you were. What battle had you been fighting, what enemy had you fallen to? Was the light you saw a fireball coming your way?

“Oak Father preserve me,” came a guttural groan from beside you.

Halsin. Your eyes shot open despite the pain. Fear coursed through you as you imagined that not only you had fallen during this battle, but Halsin as well.

What you saw was a different kind of battlefield all together. You were pressed up against Halsin in the overstuffed, oversized mattress that took up most of the small cabin the two of you shared in what was once the Shadowcursed Lands. Shadowed no more, the sun often shone happily down on the land these days, but not often did it shine directly into your home.

You peered over Halsin’s large frame towards the front door. Two small children stood side by side, their faces dark as the sun poured in behind them, but you knew them well. Their forms seemed to shimmer and join as  you watched them.

“Thaniel, Oliver. Is something wrong?”

“The land missed you while you were gone, but you came back.”

They spoke in tandem, which still freaked you out a bit, but you couldn’t help a bit of a smile as you snuggled in closer to Halsin.

“Of course we did. This is our home.”

They boys giggled and turned as one to leave, but they did not shut the door. The idea of getting up to do that yourself was beyond comprehension so you conjured just a little magic to shut the door behind them.

Blissfully dark in the cabin once more, you sighed and moved to snuggle your druid again. As you did, you noticed his eyes on you, the smallest smile on his lips.

“Gone for mere hours to see our friends at the old camp and we were missed. It brings pleasure to my heart to hear it.”

That was the reason for the extreme headache, you thought with a laugh. Last night was the reunion with your other traveling companions. There had been many bottles of wine while the group regaled each other with stories of the last six months and revisited some tales from your time together. You vaguely remembered challenging the others to a drinking game which would explain the constant thunder in your head.

“Perhaps our next reunion should include less alcohol. My head feels like there is an owlbear in it.”

You laughed at his description, which was immediately followed by a snort as you remembered there was now an owlbear somewhere here with you. Hopefully it remembered the rule of not eating anyone.

“Problems for the future. For now I just want this,” you explained as you snuggled closer to Halsin, your lips pressing against his bare shoulder.

As your eyes started to drift close, Halsin tugged you until you were basically on top of him. It wasn’t a sexual move, just a need for closeness.

“Did you mean what you told Thaniel and Oliver? That this is our home.”

For a moment you thought he meant the small cabin the two of you shared. The large bed and two trunks full of both of your items, shelves filled with books and carved creatures. Even beyond these four walls, the area that the two of you had carved out for yourselves while surrounded by the people you had helped. 

But he meant more than that. He meant the cabin and the lands and the people. The once cursed lands which now prospered under his leadership and skill. Everything used for evil was repurposed and rebuilt. Six months had shown so much growth and you knew in six more months the land would show no scars of the past. 

This land, these people. This druid in front of you. This was your home.

“Yes,” you answered simply, because the answer was simple. You had had homes before. You could go anywhere you wanted, but this? This is where you wanted to be. This is where you needed to be.

“That brings me happiness beyond words, my heart. This is my home and it would feel as dark as the curse without you in it. I am honored to have you at my side.”

Later the two of you would go and talk to the people. Halsin had many new stories to tell the children, though some would need to be censored until they were older. You needed to meet with the people who were rebuilding the House of Healing to make sure they had everything they needed. You wanted to find the owlbear and make sure he was settled in comfortably.

But for now? For now you simply closed your eyes and enjoyed being held by your druid. The two of you were safe and happy, if more than a little hungover, and that was enough for you.

[strangersatellites]

It had all started in Photography 101. 

All he had needed was one more elective added to his schedule for the fall semester to be considered a full-time student. It was Robin who had suggested photography.

Steve had never had that great of a memory to begin with, the numerous blows to the head from juvenile high school fights certainly doing him no favors. Sometimes the amount of time it took to jog Steve’s memory surpassed the time it would’ve taken to simply tell him the story as if he hadn’t been there himself. 

He was always able to grasp the memory eventually, but sometimes they were slippery in his mind. 

He and Robin had found that his memory was ten times better if he had something to look at. Sometimes that was a souvenir from a trip, sometimes it was a takeout menu with his order circled in red pen, sometimes it was a physical scar on his skin from some silly injury. But most of the time it was pictures. 

Steve took to taking photos of everything. His friends, his food, the landscape, a book with a pretty cover, anything he wanted to be able to remember.

The walls of his room grew to be covered with polaroids and prints, some staged, most not. Many blurry and out of focus, but in the moment just the same. 

So when Robin suggested Photography 101, Steve saw an opportunity to take something he did for his own benefit and turn it into something he really enjoyed, something he was good at. 

The semester was a breeze and Steve flourished under the attention of his professor. He was constantly drowning in compliments about the movement in his photos and his eye for composition. 

(Robin would tell him on several occasions that she had never seen him enjoy something this much.)

By the time the semester was coming to a close, he was left with one final project. The professor had been intentionally very vague in her description of it throughout the semester, so Steve was a little on edge. 

Sitting in the front row of the small classroom, he twirled the strap of his camera around his fingers while he daydreamed. The room slowly filled and the professor settled in behind her desk. 

About five minutes after class was supposed to have begun Steve noticed they were all still sitting in silence. Glancing at the professor he saw her brows furrow and a frustrated lilt to her lips as she looked at her watch.

What are we waiting for? 

She stood and dusted off her pants before clapping her hands together.

“Well,” she began, “I guess we can go ahead and get start–”

The door at the back of the room swung open and knocked against the wall with a resounding slam.

“Shit! Fuck! So sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Steve is so caught off guard by the man who just burst into the room that he barely even registers the words he’s saying. 

He’is tall and all lanky muscle, dark curls and jewelry, tattoos and the smell of smoke, chains and leather and everything Steve’s not. Everything nobody in this class is.

He’s even more caught off guard when his professor laughs and pulls the man into a tight hug. There are only five other students in this class, surely he’s not the only person confused.

He keeps an arm around her shoulders as she introduces him to the group.

“Guys, this is Eddie. He’s a family friend and he’s going to be your subject for your final project.”

Steve’s own eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand how this was the project she has been keeping under wraps. They’ve had plenty of portrait sessions this semester, with models and subjects of their choice alike.

The guy, Eddie, claps a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of faux humility. 

“Thank you for having me, Joyce. It's such an honor to be here.”

She smacks at his arm and carries on.

“So, Eddie is your subject and you have no parameters. The only requirement is that he is the inspiration for your shoot. This can look like a standard portrait session, this can be contemporary urban street photography, whatever you like. Eddie does not even have to be in the photo! He just has to be the inspiration for it.”

Steve's brain is already running a mile a minute, conceptualizing shots faster than he can keep up. 

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But one idea sticks out from the rest. As Steve lifts his eyes to Eddie once more and meets his own twinkling with mirth and smirking back at him he makes his decision.

He’s going to take his mugshot.

*****

“I want to take your mugshot.”

They’re at the campus coffee shop. Joyce had scheduled a few hours for Eddie to meet with the other students during their class time so they could talk through their projects.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “What, man?”

Steve twirls his straw around his drink and tries not to bristle at the reaction.

“Look,” he starts, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I don’t really know where the idea originated but once I had it, it stuck. I just saw this vision of the shot in my head and it was sick, dude.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, one of his boots knocking into Steve’s foot under the table. He crosses his arms and tilts his head. 

“Thought this shoot was supposed to be inspired by moi,” he says, gesturing a hand towards himself. “You saying I look like I should be in jail?”

Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. I already told you I don't know where i got the idea–”

But that’s a lie isn’t it. He knows exactly where he got the idea. It was somewhere between the chains dangling from Eddie’s jeans and the handcuff belt he was wearing the day they met.

He put his hands together on the table between them. “Okay. No, I’m not saying you look like a criminal, Eddie. I’m saying I think you want to look like one.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment before his face breaks into a slow smirk. He huffs a quiet laugh and leans closer. “Guilty as charged, Stevie. Besides, I was arrested once actually.”

Steve gawks while Eddie laughs. He is unfairly attractive when his dimples pop and Steve is going to have such a hard time holding it together behind the camera. 

*****

Steve takes his shoots very seriously. Every detail has to be perfect, even the ones not relating to the subject of the photo.

So it is wildly convenient that his professor happens to be married to the chief of police back in Hawkins. 

One quick phone call from Joyce and Steve and Eddie were granted access to the booking room at the police station. You know, for the sake of realism. 

Steve’s setting up his tripod while Eddie takes a chalk marker to the placard and writes up his own booking ID, a long series of random numbers with E.M at the end. 

Steve would be lying if he said Eddie’s choice of clothing wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. 

He’s wearing a ratty, old band t-shirt for some group Steve’s never heard of. There’s his usual black leather jacket and the silver chain around his neck. His ripped black jeans and fingers covered in rings and black nail polish. 

It's perfect for the shoot. But Steve’s sanity is struggling.

He gets the camera and the lighting set up just as Eddie steps into place in front of the height measurement wall. 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and gives instructions.

“Okay, so I know you’ve done this before–”

“Hey! It was one time!”

“So you know how this goes. We’ll do one forward and then one to each side.”

Eddie shakes out his hair and rolls his shoulders back. He holds the placard up in front of him and levels the camera with a dead-eyed stare.

He looks good. 

Steve is less than shocked that he looks even better on camera.

He lines up his shot. Click.

Eddie turns to his left. Steve gets a little distracted by the line of his jaw.

Click.

He turns to the right and of course only now does Steve notice his ear piercings. 

Steve takes a deep breath and focuses.

Click.

Before he can even look through his shots Eddie is dropping the placard on the desk.

He’s halfway out the door before he grabs the frame and leans back in. “One second pretty boy, I have an idea.”

He’s back before Steve snaps out of his stupor at the nickname. This time, he has a pair of handcuffs swinging from his index finger.

Steve snatches them out of his hand. “Where did you get these?”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “I know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes. 

He’s already picking up the placard and setting up some detail shots when Eddie grabs his wrist and stops him. He freezes for more than one reason.

“Hey, uh. Not to step on your toes or anything, but I actually have another idea.”

Steve is about to start on his spiel about ‘not messing up his flow’ when Eddie rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Gentle and reassuring. 

“Do you trust me?”

Honestly Steve has no reason to trust him, he’s basically a stranger.

A pretty one. His brain supplies.

But he does. Trusts him enough to let him take Steve’s creative liberties and throw them out the window apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is blinding. He turns Steve’s hand over and drops the handcuff key into it.

“Don’t lose this big boy,” he says as he snaps the cuffs around each of his own wrists.

Steve laughs, loud and shocked. He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie. 

“Well, now didn’t this take a turn.”

Eddie rolls his eyes this time and lifts his hands as much as he can.

“Don’t try to sexualize my creative prowess, Steve. I am a professional.”

He nearly trips on his way back to his place in front of the wall and Steve has to hide his laugh into a cough.

Steve’s back behind the camera, hands back on his hips when he asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Eddie smiles and says, “You just shoot, Harrington. I’ll do the rest.”

He leans down to finalize his camera settings and line up his shot. When he finally looks through the viewfinder his jaw drops. Because while Eddie was clearly joking about being a professional, if Steve didn’t know any better, this shot would have him believing it.

Eddie’s got both of his pinky fingers tucked in the corners of his smile, tongue bitten between his teeth. His thumbs are raised along with his middle fingers, while he’s got his nose scrunched and one eye squeezed shut. The cuffs hang right under his chin and accentuate his silver jewelry in a way Steve never would have anticipated.

Click.

Click. 

Click.

The next is a close-up of the booking placard between his teeth.

His hands twisting to unlock his own cuffs.

He’s a natural, and Steve’s camera roll can attest to the fact.

It wouldn’t be until Steve was reviewing and editing the shots that he caught on. The booking ID on the placard looked long because it was. It was Eddie’s number.

*****

Steve got an A. 

He got an A, an endless stream of compliments from Joyce and a dorky hot boyfriend. 

The rest of the class went the route Steve expected them to.

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But Steve’s mugshot series stood leagues above the rest.

Later in their lives, when one of their friends would see the photo in Steve’s wallet they would ask when Eddie got arrested and why.

It quickly became a game between the two.

He’s been arrested in high school for selling drugs (True.)

When he was twenty for public indecency.

At twenty-two for arson.

Thirty for contract killing. This one was followed up with the claim that he was in witsec and was now going to have to change his identity and flee the country.

But the real when and why Eddie got arrested is because when he was twenty-one Joyce told him there was a nice boy in her class that she thought he should meet.

[starzshopoflove]

Simon "ghost" Riley x Reader

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates, age gap but not to crazy, sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader sorry

no thoughts just ghost meeting cute little civvie reader in a shop when he's just trying to get his shopping done after coming back from a mission just wanting to fill his fridge with enough beer and groceries that vaguely resemble food

Simon watching you struggle to reach the flour from a set high shelf in the aisle, grumbling to yourself about "who fucking needs flour anyway" still trying to reach it and he just pluck it off the shelf and drops it in your cart before making his way to another aisle and your just left looking stupid watching this giant trudge away with a little blue tesco basket in tow

Simon who notices you at the same book shop he frequents, but your perched behind the counter doing god knows what ( vaguely resembles inventory but hey do what you will) calculator in hand as he peeks from behind a bookshelf trying to remember where he's seen you before.

Civvie reader who passes her days working quietly in a book shop and living in a simple one room flat indulging her romantic needs in fiction too nervous to actually talk to men, fictional ones satisfying her needs better. That is until you see some books on the counter sliding over to scan them.

"Your total's 23.55" you mumble looking at the screen "Cash or Card?" you add before lifting your head to meet the brick wall of a muscle man. Oh OH, no thoughts as you just stare at his pecs in your line of sight thanking whatever god you believe in for the sight before you, better then anything your little brain could muster up even with the detailed descriptions authors would spit out onto the pages you read

You violently peel your eyes away from the most beautiful pair of man tits you've ever seen to see what man was the owner, and by god do you wish you werent so bad around men. I mean the wind practically got knocked out of your lungs as you let out a barely audible squeak watching this man fish in his pockets for his wallet

Messy blonde hair that was in that weird phase of curly but not really, a nose that looks like its seen a good fight, deep set brown eyes, and a few healed scars settled on the skin. Aged but like wine, a really really fine wine

"Right, cash" His hands fiddling through the wallet to pull out the bank notes, while you prayed you didnt look like a hunger dog staring at his hands as they placed the cash on the counter.

Simon who watches the little bookshop employee look like she just got punched in the gut and was trying not groan as she quickly rang him up, Do i smell? he thinks to himself

Simon who watches your smaller hands shuffle the cash into the register, noting how they're free of calluses, nailed neat and slightly grown, soft.

Simon who leaves the bookstore thinking of a excuse to go again tomorrow, not to see the bookshop girl or anything, he has his reasons!! he just hasn't thought of it yet!!

You start looking up from your notes for your class when the shop bell jingles hoping to see the mystery man whos built exactly like your favorite webcomic character but with the gruff and mature aura of that mc from the game your friend made you play that you cant quite remember. Only disappointed when its just another customer , until later in the day the man returns again.

But its much later in the day and you've switched on the shops warm lights, turning off the ac letting the place warm up as you hear the door jingle again, mystery man making his way to the counter your eyes following his every step, meaty thighs

You who perks up when his forearms settle at the counter suddenly eyes locking onto yours and suddenly very glad you tidied up a bit today, tinted chapstick, perfume, cleaner turtle neck, lashes, lipgloss, earrings ahm

"Tesco" he grumbles out unmoving

"what" well thats not what you were expecting to hear

"You were the girl , couldnt reach the flour yeah?" oh that was him

"Oh, that was you? thank you?" oh what the fuck were you supposed to say?? oh thank you freakishly tall man who watched me struggle?? let me take your whole cock in my mouth while you call me a good pet feeding your meaty length down my throat??

"Yeah" Simon didnt think to much on what to do now, gaze getting awkward now that hes got his confirmation

"Did you need anything" you finally broke the silence, god its fuckin tense in here and hes so close, you wanna just get a sniff but thats hardly workplace behavior doesn't matter if its your dads shop or not.

"Mhm, ye got any cook books?"

"yeah, section 12, shelf 9" whos he cooking for? his wife? i dont see a ring? maybe a long time girlfriend?? who wouldnt snatch up this actual beefcake

"Thanks, tryna cook something new for myself. Flats been quiet" He mumbled like speaking too much would give him a headache

SImon purchased his books same stare at the girls hand like last time as she took his money. God do something you look like a creep staring at this poor girls hands.

"Got a notepad luv?" again that same punched face returned, is she alright? he thought to himself

Oh he just called me luv oh fuck dont wheeze dont wheeze just hand him the pen and paper like a good employee, come on. Oh god dont stare at his arms, are those tattoos oh my god

Sliding back the notepad simon made pace of grabbing his cook book a slipping out the shop just as quick as he went in

You who looked at the notepad almost slipping back out of your chair

"Simon 44 xxx xxx xxx"

Children were singing, the angels sang their songs, the trees regrew in that parking lot down the street, healthcare in america was just made free, and you just got the phone number of a man built like a double door fridge that you have every intention of climbing

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don't know if you had talk about this but-

Fun fact: despite Yana(if i remember correctly, it's Yana who confirm it) say that the event is like alternate universe of the main story, some of the event did follow through some canon settings for events(?) Only(i also still having doubt.

I know the tapis rouge event already done a few weeks ago if not months ago, but i just found it when i watch it again.

Azul and Grim is the only one surprised by the reveal of Eric and Vil being father and son because Ace and Jamil was there when Vil reveal it in Vil's Scary Dress Vignettes(i know it's vignettes, but it'stechnically in the universe if said event so i add it), and the one who appear in that Vig was Ace, Ruggie, Floyd, Jamil, him and Rook, Ortho and Lastly Silver. In that Vig, Vil did reveal his father kinda subtle but at the same time enough to make people theorizing, which shown by Ace and Ortho.

Twst usually make dialog box that shows that everyone is surprised together or atleast shown that they also surprised, but in tapis only Azul was shown openly surprised, while Grim and Yuu(since we didn't get any dialog box) only show surprised expression, and Jamil and Ace didn't show any surprised and only surprised when the person himself arrived in person.

I think it's funny that the events may or may not follow some canon settings or lore that we may need to think of, especially if they had subtle references of previous event. What do you think about this?

I went back to confirm, and your description is correct! In Vil's Scary Dress vignettes, Ace, Ruggie, Floyd, Jamil, Rook, Ortho, and Silver are in Pomefiore as Vil gives them lessons on how to do their makeup to match each of their dorms' Halloween costumes. (You'll notice that Ace and Jamil, two boys who would later visit Fairest City in Tapis Rouge, are present. Azul and Grim, meanwhile, are not present for Vil's makeup lessons.) It is in these vignettes (in the third one) that Vil reveals his father is Eric Venue:

In 3-7 of Tapis Rouge, we actually get to meet Eric Venue face-to-face. It is here that Grim and Azul (who were not previously privy to this information in Vil's Scary Dress vignettes) express shock that Vil and Eric are related.

There is no follow-up dialogue from either Ace or Jamil (who were already presented with this information in Vil's Scary Dress vignettes) expressing the same surprise. Their shock moreso comes from reacting to Eric's impressive accomplishments and/or the fact that they're able to meet such a famous person The characters then get into a conversation about why Vil and Eric don't disclose their relation publicly. Then they move into formal introductions before finally settling in for food.

While it’s true that most (if not all) vignettes and events are considered AUs, I think it’s more of a convenience so that the writers don’t need to worry about continuity or timeline issues when comparing vignettes/events to the main story or even to each other.

How I see it is that vignettes and events are a little more free to have continuity or to reference each other (ie other vignettes and events, especially within the same “set”/“series”) and the main story (lest we forget instances like Fairy Gala: If), than the main story can have continuity with or reference vignettes and events. This is likely because if all events and vignettes are AUs anyway, then the devs can casually pick and choose which details to acknowledge (like Ortho gaining free will post-book 6) and which to ignore. The few times when vignettes/events are mentioned in the main story, they are left vague enough so as to not allude to specific event stories such as the Culinary Crucible/Masterchef as a course or NRC’s charitable Halloween activities being mentioned briefly. There are no details which would imply certain ingredients/cooking partners (which would confirm Culinary Crucible/Masterchef events as “canon”) or Magicam Monsters, the Spectral Realm party, NBC, or Playful Land were experienced (which would confirm the Halloween events as “canon”).

I have to wonder if the shock/non-shock at the Eric Venue-Vil relation was intentional or just coincidence 🤔 cuz that’s one hell of a long callback to make when I thought the whole point of delineating events and vignettes as AUs was to relieve the writers of the stress of keeping up continuity. This just seems like more trouble than it’s worth… but I guess we’ll never really know for sure, but either way I still appreciate this subtle detail.

[haleingstorm]

Actually you know what I'm still not over the Seven not being found family in HOO. We were robbed. However canon is my bitch now so I present to you my the-7-actually-become-friends-and-family-and-have-meaningful-relationships-instead-of-just-vaguely-existing-near-each-other AU (Name subject to change).

The first disaster we have to tackle is fucking TLH It had so much potential and it just never followed through. First off I would like to mention that I would personally have SON be first in the series because then you could subtle drop hints about Jason and then learn about him in the next book. However I can be persuaded otherwise. So TLH it is. Let's set the scene.

First off Piper is not just a not-like-other-girls doesn't want to pretty because she finds it shallow. She grew. up. in Hollywood. Hollywood. That's going to fuck with anybodies sense of self worth and body imagine. As well as make it real clear what happens to young pretty girls/women. Add on to that a dash of Aphrodite kid powers. Namely subtle shape shifting. Canon by the way Silena is described 3 different ways in different books. (Am I aware this is probably Rick being terrible at remembering descriptions. Of course, do I care? Oh hell no.)

Anyway we'll keep her complicated relationship with her dad.(I have no authority on how to write her being Cherokee so I'm not touching that with a 10 foot poll. If others who know more would like to. Feel Free!). And Jane being kind of evil. Bonus points if she really wants to get in Piper's dad's pants but Piper keeps cockblocking her either accidentally but on Purpose. Piper is fighting the gender binary. It started out as a bid for attention but turns into hey-actually-this-is-making-me-feel-things. Dealers choice on what actually those things are. She's at the wilderness school because her dad doesn't know what to do with her. She has ADHD obviously but most of it is internal rather than external

Leo Valdez is a foster kid that has run away a gran total of seven times and is at the Wildness school as a Last Restort. He has undiagonzied ADHD because he was 'preforming too well in school' to fit the criteria. As well as fairly mild Dyslexia. He's terrified of fire and doesn't actually want to be a mechanic because that was what his mom was. And he could never be half the person she was. He's much too stupid for that. He is resistant to high temperatures but can not stand lower ones. Chalks this up to being from Houston. (spoiler alert it's not).

Now on to the star of the show Jason Grace. Love him, amazing. But actually the whole point is we don't know anything about him because he doesn't know anything about himself. However. One important detail is that he is the most feral motherfucker you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. When he had his memories he kept most of it hidden away because that's not how a Praetor is supposed to act. But now that his memories are gone all bets are off. He's there because a goddess is messing with fate.

[andshesaidwhat]

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Summary: As your visits with Clay continue, you find it harder and harder to maintain the personal boundaries you had set for yourself. You also find it harder to refrain from breaking the rules…

Warnings: angst, more pining, like ridiculous down bad pining, strip tease, pole dancing, descriptions of sex work, alcohol consumption, teasing, begging (oop 👀), vague somewhat poetic description of a sex dream?

Playlist | Masterlist

For someone who’d spent most of their life running from connection, you’d found yourself fighting off thoughts of Clay less and less.

Maybe there wasn’t such harm in a little indulgence. Perhaps it wasn’t catastrophic to allow someone to get to know a few simple things about you. It was all confined safely within the walls of that private room, the veil of anonymity still a comfort…

How bad could it possibly be?

Besides, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a friend. Honestly, you didn’t really know how to have a friend.

Especially one as pretty as he was.

Much to your disdain, you’d started becoming excited to go in to work for the chance that he may be there. You’d put a little extra effort in your appearance, preparing some of the sexier dances, hoping he’d be in the audience when you walked out onto that stage.

A week passed with no sign of him.

You’d started to lose that sliver of hope that had been budding inside of you for the first time in a very long time.

Of course, this had just been a distraction to him. He’d said so himself. It had been foolish of you to allow yourself to think it could have been anything more.

You clocked in for your final shift of the week, feeling heavy as you were grounded back to reality.

You set your things down at your station, sighing as you looked at your reflection. That faint light that had been shimmering in your eyes had dimmed again, replaced by your usual shadows.

Changing into one of your costumes, you busied your mind with hair and makeup. You’d been so zoned out that you hadn’t even noticed Frenchie sitting down next to you, ranting away.

“That’s when I told him— Hey! Babes! Are you even listening to me?” Frenchie asked, snapping her fingers and turning in her chair with an exaggerated pout.

“Yeah, sorry, French,” you said, an apologetic sigh escaping your lips. “I’m just out of it today.”

“Ah,” she nodded, understanding settling on her face. “Still no sign of Mr. Admirer, huh?”

“What?” Your eyes widened as you shook your head, looking away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you leaving those little private bookings with a new fire in your eyes.”

“I’m doing my job, Frenchie, that’s it,” you defended, shrugging as you stood up to get ready to go on stage. “Anyways, I have a set to go do, so…”

You took off your robe and hung it up, eager to get away from this conversation as you moved toward the front.

“Live a little, doll,” Frenchie called after you. “You can’t hide on that stage forever.”

Her words struck a chord within you.

You can’t hide on that stage forever.

You couldn’t stop hearing them repeat in your mind, antagonizing you over and over again. You closed your eyes, standing behind the curtain and taking a deep breath.

The moment the music began and the spotlight hit you, the thoughts were silenced. You became the well-oiled machine you’d learned to be, leaving everything else aside as you played your part.

You stepped out onto the stage, relishing in the whoops and cheers from the crowd as the bills started flying. You moved with grace and poise, seduction a second language as you danced to the music.

Pandering to the crowd, you owned the stage. Blowing kisses, pouting, giving them everything they desired. You nearly stopped dead in your tracks, however, when your gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips quirked up into a grin, watching you with more intent than any other person in the audience. You couldn’t help but grin back, feeling an unfamiliar warmth washing over you.

You danced the rest of your set with a renewed vigor, knowing he was watching you. He was the only one in the crowd that mattered. You never once took your eyes off of him, feeling as though it was only the two of you in that room — as if this was as much of a private show as your usual meetings.

As your set ended, you gave him a wink before sauntering off of the stage. Sal met you backstage with no time wasted and simply grunted, “Room four.”

Feeling stupidly giddy, you masked the look of excitement that threatened to show on your face and nodded. You snuck into one of the dressing booths, changing into a new lingerie set you’d gotten for the next time he showed up — a tiny, lacy number.

Red. His favorite.

Practically sprinting down the hallway, you stopped before room four and took a deep breath. You weren’t wanting him to see the extent of your excitement just yet. You were still weary of divulging just how much he affected you.

You opened the door, leaning against it as you eyed him with a smirk.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again, pretty boy.”

Clay’s eyes widened at the sight of you, his breath catching in his throat. His gaze trailed over your body as he swallowed, thickly.

“Well, now,” he said, clearing his throat and smiling at you with his ever-present charm. “If it isn’t my favorite dancer.”

You smiled coyly at him, glancing over to see a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne sitting by the couch.

“You remembered,” you said, walking further into the room. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back at all.”

“How could I resist the allure of your company, Cherry,” he grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I must admit, I missed our conversations.”

“Where have you been the past few nights, then?” You asked, jokingly masking the genuine curiosity. “Bringing your stories to different strip clubs?”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’ve been working,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A new project has taken up most of my time.” His gaze softened as he paused to look at you. “Trust me, I was counting the days until I could come see you again. You’re worth waiting for, Cherry.”

Of course he was working. He was a billion-dollar CEO for chrissakes. You felt silly for even wondering why he hadn’t been at the club.

It was easy to forget that you both existed outside of this room.

“Well, since you’re my favorite customer,” you joked, winking at him, “I thought maybe I could show you a new routine I’ve been working on for the club — give you the first sneak peak.”

Clay’s face lit up, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’d be honored, Cherry,” he said, enthusiastically. “Please, show me.”

He settled back into the couch, his gaze never leaving you as he eagerly awaited for whatever you wanted to show him.

You gave him a cheeky smirk, walking over to dim the lights to a hazy red. You turned the stereo on to play a deep, sensual melody.

“I wanted to incorporate the pole more during my sets,” you said, walking toward the silver pole in the middle of the room. “I think it’s such an underrated art form, and it requires far more strength and skill than people realize. You can be my test bunny, pretty boy. You can tell me if you think it would earn a few bucks.”

Keeping your gaze locked on him, you raised your arms above your head and grasped the cold metal. You slowly slid down in front of the pole, spreading your knees before easing back up. You walked around, keeping one hand grasping it, and lifted yourself onto it. You wrapped your legs around the spinning beam, moving your arms fluidly as you spun gracefully.

Clay watched you, completely mesmerized by your movements. His chest heaved with heavy breaths as his hands gripped the edge of the couch.

He was entranced, drinking in the sight of you. You were a masterpiece, a living work of art.

When you finally stopped, he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’ll earn every buck and then some,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto his face. “That was…breathtaking.”

“Yeah?” You smirked at him, sauntering over toward the couch. You leaned over him, coming as close to straddling him as you could without actually making contact. “What were your thoughts?”

Clay inhaled, sharply, his heart pounding at the closeness. His gaze traveled over you before locking on your eyes.

“My thoughts?” Clay repeated, his voice husky. “I thought…” He paused, swallowing hard as his breathing stuttered. “I thought I was witnessing something magical, Cherry. Something pure and wild all at once.”

“What about the new costume?” You trailed your fingers along the red lace, batting your lashes at him. “I was wanting to try this out, too.”

Clay’s eyes followed the movement of your fingers, his breath hitching quietly.

“It suits you perfectly, Cherry,” he said, thickly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the material himself. “It’s bold and seductive…just like you.”

“I thought you might like it,” you giggled, biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your grin.

“I definitely do,” he murmured. “Very definitely.” His gaze travelled up and down the length of your body, taking in the red fabric hugging all of the right places. “Is it…” He licked his lips. “Is it also for the stage, or is it just for…these meetings?”

Your stomach swooped at the look of desire in his eyes. Normally, you felt sickened by the way people ogled you in these outfits. His gaze was different. It didn’t make you feel like an object. It made you feel…alive.

“You want me to keep this one just for you?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. You leaned down to whisper next to his ear. “That doesn’t sound like something a friend would ask.”

Clay’s breath caught in his throat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The warmth radiating from you sent a thrill throughout his body.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It doesn’t.” He looked up at you with pleading eyes as his heart pounded. “Keep it for me, Cherry. Please.”

Your pulse rushed as his request, the ‘please’ doing more to your resolve than you cared to admit.

“If you insist, pretty boy,” you grinned. “Besides, the other people at this club don’t deserve to see it.”

You continued to dance to the music as you hovered over his lap. Bringing your hands up to the brassiere, you teased the straps and lowered the cups ever so slightly.

Clay gasped, softly, his eyes widening. Each movement you made sent a jolt through him, his body tense beneath you.

“What are you doing, Cherry?” He asked, his voice strained. It was a question filled with equal parts awe and desperation.

“I’m doing my job, pretty boy,” you told him, innocently.

You let the straps hang off your shoulders, barely concealing what was underneath. You trailed your fingers down your stomach, teasingly running them underneath the top of the red lace panties.

You knew that you had to follow the rules, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun testing them.

“I’m paid to tempt and tease,” you whispered, arching your back slightly. “To keep people wanting more.”

Clay’s eyes were locked on you, never even blinking for fear of missing a single second of the show you were giving him. His body grew hot beneath you, the desire pulsing within him.

“Then do your job, Cherry,” he spoke, lowly. “Make me want more.”

You were too far gone in the moment, too lost in him to pull back now. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, but you were becoming drunk on the desire radiating off of him — the desire you felt for him.

You moved the waistband of the red lace panties down, letting them rest dangerously low on your hips.

“Why don’t I tell you a story this time?” You suggested, hovering your face just inches away from his. “I think you’d find it…very entertaining.”

“Yes,” he breathed, his eyes following your every move. “Tell me a story.” He tried to calm his breathing. “Please, Cherry.” He closed his eyes, his mind already painting vivid images.

“This is the story of a girl who forgot how to dream,” you began, whispering the words tantalizingly close to his ear. “Night after night, for as long as she could remember, she never dreamed. Her sleep was occupied by a vast nothingness, lulling her slumber. Until one night. One night, she wasn’t met with that vast nothingness. Instead, she was met with a handsome stranger.”

Clay listened, his eyes still closed. The story, paired with your closeness, was driving him mad. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath panting. He tried to concentrate, to listen to the story. Each word you spoke fueled the fire inside of him. He could almost feel you, smell you, taste you.

“Go on,” he pleaded, his voice thick.

“The handsome stranger looked at her with dazzling blue eyes,” you continued, “and said he knew of a dance that they could do together. Slowly, he removed her clothes and then his own, until they both stood before each other baring their deepest desires. Then, the dance began. He reached out to touch her, tracing every inch of her body with curious, tender fingers. The dreamless girl thought she could feel his touch, too, as she laid asleep in her bed. He touched her — teasingly, longingly — until every last barrier had been torn away and she was left floating in want. She was willing to beg him to give her more, but she wanted to participate in this dance, too. She let her hands snake around his body, feeling every ripple of muscle and crevice of skin that she could find. She felt the goosebumps rise on his skin as her nails scratched symphonies against it. Then, slowly, achingly, she grabbed the part of him that desired her most. She stroked and tugged, eliciting the sweetest music from his mouth. He stopped her, dangling on the brink. He told her that they needed to finish the dance together.”

Clay’s eyes fluttered open, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He looked at you, his eyes filled with need and longing.

“Finish the dance,” he whispered. His body trembled, his hands gripping the couch tightly. “I want to finish the dance, Cherry.” His mind was lost in the story you told, in the world you’d created.

“They finished the dance, pulling on one another’s desires, plucking the right strings that made the other fall apart. They reached the height of the dance together, releasing a fever pitch scream that sounded like the sweetest instrument ever heard,” you spoke, your voice trailing off into a teasing moan. “The dreamless girl awoke in a pool of her own desire, swearing she could still feel the remnants of the handsome stranger’s touch.”

Clay’s eyes burned with desire, his body tense with anticipation. He could feel the heat radiating between you, the tension coiling tighter with every word.

“Cherry,” he breathed out, desperately. “Please.”

He knew that you had to stop, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this moment — of breaking the spell.

“Please what, pretty boy?” You taunted him, gazing down into his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Please, don’t stop.” He struggled to maintain control, his desire screaming for release. “I don’t want this to end.”

You needed to get control of the situation. You were in far too deep, and it was becoming dangerous. Still, you couldn’t stop from pushing it further.

“What if I said there was more truth than tale to that story?” You asked, looking into his desire-filled eyes. “What if the girl in the story was me? What if I dreamed about you — about touching you? What if I woke up spent from the thought of you?”

“Cherry…” Clay groaned, the idea sending bolts of electricity through his veins.

“What if I told you that I bought this knowing that I only wanted to wear it for you?” You teased the lady red fabric again, feeling your heart pounding beneath your fingers. “What if I never had any intention of letting anyone else see it?”

“Cherry,” he panted, his voice trembling. “Please…”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, he just knew that he needed more. More of you. More of this moment.

You let out a soft sigh, cocking your head to the side as you asked, “Do you want more, pretty boy?”

“Yes, more,” he nodded, frantically. “I want more, Cherry.”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you said, “Then I suppose I’ve done my job well.”

At that moment, the timer rang to signal the end of the session.

You climbed off of him, fixing your clothing and downing the glass of champagne that was sitting on the table.

“Until next time, pretty boy,” you said, pausing by the door. “I’ll see you in my dreams.”

Clay struggled to catch his breath as you left the room, running his hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself.

“Fuck,” he breathed, licking his lips that had gone dry. He glanced down at his lap, noticing the obvious tent in his pants and groaned. “Fuck.”

Your mind was racing as you walked back to the dressing room.

You should not have done that.

You had never been so stupid or careless. He had invaded your senses, made you reckless.

You had pushed it too far. You had indulged in his world of story and fantasy, but it had felt so good. It had made you feel alive, for the first time in a very long time.

“I take it Mr. Admirer showed up after all,” Frenchie’s smug voice rang out as you walked up to your vanity.

“What makes you think that?” You asked, silently cursing the breathlessness of your voice.

“You mean other than that new little lacy number you’ve got on?” Frenchie laughed, raising a brow. She walked toward you, gently cupping your cheek as her eyes softened. “You’ve got the fire, sweetness.”

As she walked away, you glanced in the mirror. You nearly gasped at the sight. Your face was flushed with color and your eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen. You looked like an entirely different person.

A part of you had been sleeping for so long and, finally, you looked awake.

————————————————————————

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[menlove]

now i'm curious .. why do you think john was gay?

disclaimer: this is not bi erasure & if anyone tries to start discourse w me about that i do not careeeee sorry. i care deeply abt bi erasure but he never labeled his own sexuality & as a figure of the past it's more than fair to speculate that when he talked abt his attraction to women it was from the pov of a gay man dealing w comphet. if he were alive today and saying he was bisexual i'd leave it alone but he's not so i'm not. sexuality can absolutely be fluid! and he very well may have been bisexual! this is just my personal theory & interpretation of things he's said through the lens of viewing him as a gay man. MOVING ON.

i need you to imagine all of this to the benny hill theme. let's go

with the beatles by alistair taylor pg. 98 (at least in the pdf copy i have- there's no actual page numbers so it might not match up exactly if you have the print copy)

and from the same book like a paragraph down- this one is not AS crazy bc there's a million explanations but also not being able to get it up for the one woman you've fantasized about forever...... oh brother

in a description of an auctioned off audio tape:

this :|

this from JOOOOAN BAEZ. JOAN BAEZ.

(source)

"It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists."

this infamous quote (source from the wonderful @amoralto who is a great resource for beatles archiving)

"He was completely open and uninhibited with her, as she learned to be with him, owning up to his deepest sexual fantasies—like one of making love to a woman in her eighties, or even older, whose veined and wrinkled hands would be covered in diamonds. Over time, she became accustomed to his particular style of backhanded compliment. 'Do you know why I like you?' he remarked on one occasion. 'It’s because you look like a bloke in drag. You’re like a mate.' Yoko laughingly replied that she thought he must be 'a closet fag.'"

john lennon: the life by philip norman (take him w a grain of salt. also the doc i have for this one is html so i truly would have 0 clue on what page number this would be) BUT this is also corroborated by a yoko quote herself in a 1981 new york magazine interview

no, no, no by yoko ono which. what do i even need to say.

"I remember it, vaguely. I was out of me mind with drink – when you get down to the point where you drink all the empty glasses, that drunk. And he was saying, 'Well, come on, John, tell us,' something like that, 'Tell me about you and Brian, we all know,' like that. And obviously, I must have been un– uh, f– frightened of the fag in me to get so angry at that. You know, when you’re twenty-one, you want to be a man, and all that. And for the first time I thought, 'I could kill this guy.' I just saw it, like on a screen, that if I hit him once more, I ��� that’s gonna be it."

this other infamous quote uploaded in an audio by @amoralto (source)

"John believed in my work as an artist wasn’t accepted in part because I am a woman. He got angry when people said about me, 'She’s not a woman, she’s a female impersonator.' John said to me, 'If I had been gay and gotten together with a guy who was talented like you, after ten years that guy would have become famous as an artist in his own right. Maybe we should come out and say, 'Actually, Yoko is a guy.' Maybe that will do it!' That made him laugh a lot. John learned about women’s oppression from me, but I learned a lot about men’s vulnerability from him. He expressed his vulnerability, unlike a lot of other men. I learned that it’s not just men oppressing women. Men also suffer, they feel fear and guilt. For example, I thought the fact that men buy prostitutes was terrible. It filled me with indignation. But John explained it differently. 'It’s humiliating for a guy to buy a whore,' he told me. 'It’s proof that he’s rejected, he’s just so desperate.' I had never thought of that: for me who go to prostitutes, sex is connected to being rejected and humiliated. I always hated people who committed sex crimes, but through John I tuned in to their pain. John told me that it was unfortunate for the poor guy whose sexual preference was a crime and something to be feared. John’s perspective was, 'I’m lucky I’m normal.'"

yoko interview with jon wiener in come together: john lennon in his time. just..... whatever the hell is going on here.

interview w lisa robinson in hit parader "a conversation with john lennon" 1975

"With his four months’ greater experience, Sheridan was an ideal guide to the Reeperbahn’s more exotic diversions, like the Schwülen laden. Stu Sutcliffe later wrote home in amazement that the transvestites were 'all harmless and very young' and it was actually possible to speak to one 'without shuddering.' Though raised amid the same homophobia as his companions, John seemed totally unshocked by St. Pauli’s abundant drag scene; indeed, he often seemed actively to seek it out. 'There was one particular club he used to like,' Tony Sheridan remembers, 'full of these big guys with hairy hands, deep voices—and breasts. But they used to make an effort to talk English. There was something about the place that seemed to make John feel at home.'"

another from john lennon: the life so take it w a grain of salt

so many excerpts from skywriting by word of mouth

and more!

and thats all i'm hunting down for now but he also like Continuously went on and on and and on and ON about how his relationship w yoko worked bc she was so much like a man/mate/what have you