#The GRAND PIANO. WAS. A STRUGGLE.

[pzyii]

RPG update, santana pov, and it’s immediately ansgty

[rxmye]

" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man 13

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You remember.

6.5 Words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12)

March, 1977

You hated the sweater that your grandma had picked out for you to wear on the night of the Hawkins Middle School Talent Show. It was slightly too small for you and you couldn’t comfortably raise your arms without your midriff accidentally showing, the material was itchy and the tag was poking at the back of your neck which made you scratch the skin there which only made the problem worse, and you know that when you stepped out onto the stage the lights would make you feel unbearably hot. 

What you hated slightly less was the poem that you were supposed to recite. You didn’t really have anything against The Owl and the Pussy Cat, but it wasn’t exactly your first choice for the show. Actually, you had about 8 more ideas for your forced performance that had all been shot down by your teachers or parents. 

Being forced to be in the talent show wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You really did normally like being on stage if it was by your own choice and you got to choose what to do. Now, here you were in 8th grade, getting ready to be on stage because of some stupid rule that said that all students must participate in the talent show once in their 3 years. 

You didn’t have a talent in 6th grade, and in 7th you ended up getting the flu which had kept you in bed for a week. Now for 8th grade you had been cornered and forced to recite a poem that put you to sleep and was sure to give every bored parent an excuse to take a bathroom break. 

There were way more interesting performances than you, and you’d rather trade with almost anyone. The girls from the cheer squad always did an original routine despite using the same three cheers at every sports game, there were the Tyson brothers who did their traditional “Who’s On First?” stand-up that killed every year, a few kids playing piano or singing some random song, and one girl doing what you assumed to be some sort of martial art demonstration. The talent here was only marginally better than the ones you had sat through in elementary school. 

Okay, there was one performance that you were looking forward to seeing. Dougie, the guy who sat next to you in English, had been going on for weeks how he was in a band now and that they were making their debut at the talent show that year. He excitedly rambled to you about how they were going to play a Judas Priest song and it was gonna be awesome. 

You had never talked to Dougie before then, but you had made eye contact with him once when he was talking about the talent show and that meant that you were now going to listen to him every time he wanted to talk about his band. Having a full live band at this show sounded a lot more interesting than most public school acts, and the idea that they were going to get away with playing a song that was not school board approved sounded awesome. 

The irony of it all was that about three minutes before the show started he admitted that they had all practiced together a grand total of twice beforehand. 

Dougie was currently jumping up and down in an awkward rhythm from foot to foot, clinging to his bass like it was his last lifeline. When you tried to talk to him, he only responded with a line from the song they were going to sing, having forgotten the rest of the English language in an attempt to make sure he remembered the words to the song. It made you feel a little better, because you could at least recite your poem in your sleep. 

You leaned against a wall and looked up towards the catwalk above the stage. There were two kids up there, and you were pretty sure that they really weren’t supposed to be. One was a girl in a ponytail, wearing a sparkly outfit that matched the group of cheerleaders in the hall, and one was a boy with a buzzcut wearing ripped jeans and a dark t-shirt. Quite the opposite pair. 

You watched them for a moment, unable to hear a word they were saying but they both kept looking out at the crowd. When the five minute warning came, they each scrambled back down to the floor and Buzzcut Kid made his way to Dougie and the girl went out to join the rest of her squad. 

Maybe this would be more enjoyable if you also had friends to do this with. The few friends that you did have had either done their stint in the years before or had decided to do something completely different than you. 

Your only saving grace was that you were up second, right after some 7th grader sang along to the latest pop song that hit the charts about a month ago. This meant that you at least got it over with, and could spend the rest of the show alone and unbothered to watch everyone else. 

That was the plan at least. Unfortunately for you, you had completely overlooked one crucial thing about your fellow peers. 

They were fucking mean.

You really hadn’t thought much about the poem you were going to recite, it was just supposed to be a very quick poem that no one would remember. You had actually learned the poem a very long time ago when you were a kid, so you never made the connection that part of the poem could be taken... incorrectly. 

When your name was called, you stepped onto the center stage, shoulders back and head up straight. You were going to say your poem from the diaphragm, make your parents and grandma happy, and then get off stage. It would take less than two minutes and then you were home free. 

The second you started talking about how the Owl and the Pussy Cat went to sea in their pea green boat was when you started to hear the giggles from backstage. And when the Owl started to sing on their guitar, that’s when you realized your fatal mistake. 

"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

         You are,

         You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Oh. 

Oh no. 

The giggles from backstage grew louder and you felt your face heating up from more than just the horrible sweater. You could barely focus on the last two verses, where the Owl buys a ring off a Pigs’ nose to marry the Pussy Cat, you could only finish the poem in a deadpan voice before walking off stage as quickly as possible without even waiting for the first applause to start. 

Backstage, everyone was giggling every time they looked at you. Whispers of ‘O pussy, my love!’ and ‘O lovely pussy!’ and (less creatively) ‘pussy lover’ followed you as you made your way out into the hall, trying not to cry. 

They would all call you “pussy poem girl” until you skipped town and left Indiana forever, you just knew it.

You slipped into the bathroom, had yourself a small bout of embarrassed frustration tears, and then stomped your way to the art room. Ms. Teedee, the art teacher, was infamous for forgetting to lock her door which meant that it was easy to sneak in and make your way over to the large box of construction paper and get to work. 

It started out as just a way to calm down after the horrible embarrassment you just faced, but then it became a plan to hopefully soften the blow. 

It took you about a half hour to make, roughly, a million paper flowers from the various sheets of construction paper, which you then shoved into a discarded cardboard box next to Ms. Teedee’s desk. With a final deep breath you made your way back to the gymnasium where the cheerleaders were now doing their dance. 

When they all filed off stage, you stood there with your box of fake flowers and handed each of them one with a “Congratulations!” and “You guys were amazing out there!”.

Maybe if you were nice enough now, they’d drop the Pussy Fiasco and leave you alone. 

While the next act went on, you retroactively passed out paper flowers to the students who had already been on. Everyone stage right was waiting to go on while stage left was for those who already went. The plan seemed to work well enough, and you found the sooner you shoved a flower in someone’s face, the less likely they were to make a crack about your poem. 

At least until Monday when the snickers would follow you for the rest of the school year, and partially into high school by a few asshats who had nothing better to do. 

When you finally had a moment to catch your breath and take a moment to watch the talent show, there was a cacophony of noise coming from the stage. Drums, guitar, base, cracked vocals, were blasting from the speakers, making most of the parents in the audience wince. 

You skirted around to the side of the stage, just out of sight from the audience to see what was going on. Dougie’s act was up and they were... loud. Loud was definitely the right word to use. You couldn’t see Dougie well, he was on the far side of the stage away from you, and a girl with a drum set was behind him. She was banging away on the drums in a way that reminded you of Animal from The Muppets with how much energy she was putting into it. You were expecting her to hit the drum so hard that the stick would go flying. 

Speaking of flying...

The guitarist was the one who captured your attention the most. Under the spotlights you could forget that he was just an awkward 8th grader like you, he looked like... almost like he was flying. That didn’t make much sense because he was standing in place, but it was the only metaphor you could think of that made sense at the time. His vocals were rough, but the passion in his voice was clear. Most students were half-assing their performances out of obligation because they were forced to but not him. Buzzcut Kid played like he needed to, as if his life depended on it. 

The sting of the guitar and the thrumming of the drums drowned out any snickering from the students that had been following you for the past forty minutes. For the next three, you were absolutely enthralled by the kids on stage. So much so that when they all filed off you completely blanked on handing out flowers, your ears still ringing from the act. 

“That was great!” you had managed to spit out to Dougie, who gave you a quick thanks before turning back to the rest of the band, the three talking excitedly about their very first performance. 

Dougie’s band was the second to last performance, followed by a grand finale of a kid playing a medley of old tv show themes on piano. You remembered to give that kid a flower at least. Afterwards, you were all ushered on stage for a bow, your hands felt clammy as you gripped the hand of one of the Tyson brothers, not wanting to look at the audience at all. 

With the show over, everyone filed out into the main area of the school. Kids reunited with their parents and siblings to talk about the show and give congratulations. You saw a few of your flowers already being dumped in the nearby trash can, which stung a little. You sighed and clung to the remaining flowers in your small cardboard box and realized that you never did hand them over to Dougie and his friends. 

Ignoring the fact that your parents were looking for you, you pushed through the sea of people and found Dougie, handing him a flower quickly before moving on before he could say anything else to you. The girl drummer was easy to find next, as she was at the edge of the crowd with an old woman who you assumed was her grandma. You handed her a flower too, with a stuttered “You were so good!” before disappearing again into the crowd. 

There was only one flower left to give out, and you were shaking slightly at the idea of approaching the guitarist. You didn’t know why; shy was never a word that your friends and teachers would use to describe you. But this guy was just so cool and he played guitar in a band! Okay, so Dougie was also in the band but that was different! This guy had played in a way that put air into your lungs and made you forget the disaster of your own performance. You wished that your family had brought their clunky camcorder to tape the show so that you’d never forget it. 

You spotted Buzzcut Kid standing with an older man as they headed out the door of the school, and you panicked for a second. You shifted from one foot to the other quickly as you tried to make a decision. If you didn’t give him a flower then- then- then he wouldn’t have a flower! Then he’d be the only one without a flower and then what? What if he made fun of you for your poem? What if you gave him a flower and he decided to ignore your horrible social blunder? What if he did that anyway when you approached him? What if no one else was going to tell him that he had the coolest act in the show?!

It was that last thought that had you barreling through the crowd towards the door, clinging to your box tightly. You definitely shoulder checked some people on accident as you pushed your way out of the school and started walking quickly to the kid. 

“W-wait up!” you said, nearly stumbling over your feet as you caught up to the kid and the old man he was with. The kid stopped and looked at you, as if confused as to why you were speaking to him. 

Under the lamps hanging outside of the school, you were met with the prettiest brown eyes you had ever seen and your heart thrummed in your chest. 

“Hi...?” the kid said, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at you. His voice snapped you out of it. 

“I really liked your act it was really cool and it’s cool that you got away with playing that song without someone pulling the plug or canceling the show!” You blabbed, not stopping for breath or punctuation. 

The kid froze for a second, and then looked a little bashful giving you a crooked smile. You noticed a slight chip on one of his front teeth. 

“We got yelled at pretty bad backstage for it.” the kid said, looking almost proud of himself for it. 

The man who was with Buzzcut Kid placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the truck.” he said, walking off and leaving the two of you alone. 

“It was still really good!” you insisted. “It was my favorite part of the show!” 

Had it not been past sunset you might have noticed the way his ears burned from the compliment. 

“Thanks.” he said, shifting slightly. “Uh, which act was yours again...?”

“Nothing interesting!” you said, a bit louder and higher pitched than you meant to, secretly relieved that he hadn’t heard your embarrassing poem. “Oh uh, this is for you!”

You reached your hand into your box of flowers and pulled out the nicest looking one left, a dark blue one that matched his t-shirt. He took it, his hand barely brushing against yours as he did, and he stared at it for a moment. The way he was looking so intently made your stomach turn and you suddenly felt very stupid for rushing after this guy who had no idea who you were just to give him a paper flower that was just going to end up in the trash can later. 

“I gave one to everyone” you started blabbing again. “‘Cause you know not everyone gets flowers after a show but everyone did a really good job so I thought I could let everyone know that they did so that’s why I made them also what song was that that you guys played?” 

It was a lie. Why were you lying? Were you so desperate to not look like a total loser in front of this guy that you’d just lie about the real reason why you made the flowers?

Well, you were in middle school. So, yeah, you were. 

“The song was ‘Prowler’ by Judas Priest.” the kid said, “It was the easiest one we could learn at the last second.” 

You knew that. Right, you did know that, Dougie only mentioned it every single day for the past two weeks. You felt so stupid asking that question, but at least Buzzcut Kid didn’t know that you knew. 

“You guys were really good.” you repeated, not sure what else to say. You were rambling now, and Buzzcut Kid probably thought you were a total dweeb. “I hope you guys keep playing and you’re really good at guitar and I’ve never heard anyone play electric guitar live except for one time when I went to the Indiana State Fair in fourth grade.”

You needed to shut up, you were really running your mouth for no reason and just talking at this poor guy who was just trying to go home. 

“I’ve been playing since I was a kid.” Buzzcut Kid said, and he was still giving you a look. His eyes were so round. “My dad taught me what he knew and I just picked up the rest from there.” He was holding the fake flower carefully, running his finger along the edge of one of the petals. You hoped he didn’t get a paper cut from doing that. 

“That’s so cool.” you said, your voice a little bit slower now as you tried desperately to hold your tongue. 

“Thanks.” he said again, and you immediately ran out of things to say. Of course, later you realized you could have probably kept the conversation going by asking for his name, or offering yours, but there are many downsides to being in middle school and piss-poor social skills is one of them. 

“Okay well you were good and I gotta go, bye!” you said and quickly booked it back to the school, your heart pounding and your cheeks flushed from more than just the horrible sweater. You didn’t even look back at the kid that you had just left standing there with your paper flower. 

You didn’t talk to him again after that. For a small school it was really easy to miss people. Your schedules never lined up, you never saw him in the hallways except for maybe one or two glances before or after school. Dougie never talked to you again, and by the next semester you’d been moved to a different schedule anyway. By the time Spring came around, you barely remembered the kid who you’d gushed to, and when high school came around he was just a distant memory of a night that you really tried not to think about. 

The only evidence of that night lay now in your lap. The Hawkins Middle School yearbook from when you both were in eighth grade had a full color spread of the talent show. The Tyson brothers and the cheerleaders got solo pictures of their acts as well as a small collage of every kid that played the piano. 

But there, in the bottom of the second page, was a larger group photo of every kid that had been in the show that night, the picture taken thirty minutes before the curtain. You were stationed on the second row, on the far right and there on the top row was Buzzcut Kid, the girl drummer (who Eddie had explained was his friend Ronnie), and Dougie. 

No wonder you didn’t recognize Eddie or his band before. Besides Eddie, the whole line up of the band had completely changed since their middle school debut. There was no way you would have placed the tall and lanky kid with the buzzcut as the guy who you’d been seeing for the past few weeks. 

When you had been looking at Eddie’s pictures in your own copies of the yearbook, you had been only looking at high school. It hadn’t occurred to you to try and dig further than that. 

“So this is what you’ve been so cryptic about.” you said finally, looking between the flower and the yearbook. 

“I didn’t think it was a big deal you didn’t remember me.” He shrugged, falling onto his back on the bed next to you. “I wouldn’t remember me either.” 

“Eddie, I was obsessed with you for like, a month after this.” you admitted, staring at him hard. “You were the only good part of that night. I stopped thinking about that night when I didn’t see you again. ”

“You were obsessed with me?” He lifted his head and looked at you with a shit-eating grin. “Stalker.”

You grabbed a flimsy pillow from beside you and smacked him in the face. “Says the guy keeping count of how many times we met!”

“The second time was when you got in trouble with Higgins for skipping class- hey!” Eddie lifted his arms as you whacked him with the pillow over and over. 

“Why-” Smack! “didn’t-” Smack! “you-” Smack! “tell-” Smack! “me-” Smack! “this-” Smack! “earlier?!” 

Eddie grabbed the pillow out of your hands and smacked you back. “Didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important?!” you gaped at him. “Edward Munson, I’m going to use that pillow to suffocate you. I’m so embarrassed now. I remember you as this super cool guy who made me feel better and I was just some random kid who was always crying- oof!”

Eddie smacked you with the pillow a bit harder than intended, but it didn’t matter with how much you two were laughing. 

“You think I’m super cool? Aww, I’m flattered. Maybe I will give you a few autographs to sell, seeing as how you’re my biggest fan.” He teased. 

“I take it back, I take it all back! You suck, and are super lame and not cool at all.” you grabbed the second pillow, slightly less flimsy than the one he was holding and smacked him again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re hurting my heart here.” He held his hand on his chest and gripped his shirt dramatically. “You were the first girl to ever come up to me and tell me you liked my playing, and now you’re taking it all back? I’m wounded.”

“I was?” There was no way that was right.

“Okay, you were the second. Ronnie might count as the first, but all she did was say ‘Fine, I guess we’re good enough we could try and start a band.’”

“And now you’re good enough to possibly get a record deal.” you said, smiling at him. 

“I’ll be sure to thank you when I get my first Grammy.” 

You leaned against the wall that his bed was cornered into and sighed. “I can’t believe you were Buzzcut Kid and that nice guy who stopped me from having a meltdown in the Principal’s office.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t recognize you until halfway through the night at the arcade.” Eddie offered. “I just saw Harrington with a pretty girl and assumed you were more like him.” 

“Steve and I are more of an ‘opposites attract’ pair. I didn’t think I’d end up friends with him, but he’s surprisingly fun to hang out with.” you picked up the flower again, noting how worn it looked. Wait, was that your phone number scribbled on it? “What tipped you off?”

“Air hockey.” Eddie said. “It was when you decided that we should pit freshmen against each other that I remembered Chris telling me once about a girl wanting to join Hellfire. He had made you out to be some sort of stuck-up who wasn’t actually interested and was just asking to fuck with us.”

“Fuck Chris Morrison.” you said, bitterly. 

“Fuck Chris Morrison.” Eddie agreed. “So when we were in the middle of making Wheeler and Henderson fight for our own entertainment, that’s when I recognized you. At the Hideout that’s when I was sure.”

“How did you figure?”

Eddie leaned in close with that same shit-eating grin from earlier. “Because you looked at me the exact same way you did the night at the talent show when we played.” 

“Oh, shit.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh of embarrassment. “I’ve never had a good poker face. Do I even want to know how I looked at you?”

“Only like I’m the coolest guy you’ve ever seen in your life.” He said with a nonchalant shrug, but his eyes still had that glint that made you want to smack him with a pillow again. 

“I’m mad, but only because I know you’re right. You, Eddie, are actually the coolest person in Hawkins and also the biggest nerd I’ve ever met.” You crossed your arms and nudged him with your knee. 

“I find that hard to believe, since you’ve met Henderson.” Eddie nudged you back with his knee and you didn’t miss the way he shifted closer to you. “Kid’s probably the smartest person I know. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

“I’m telling him.” you said instantly, giving your own shit-eating grin. “I am forever in Dustin’s debt. He can rent any movie that’s not porn from Family Video as long as I’m on shift and he gets first dibs on any almost expired candy. There’s no way I’m not gonna tell him when someone says something nice about him.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, or at least you assumed he did because his bangs moved slightly as he looked at you. “And what, pray tell, did the little shrimp do to garner such favor with you?” He shifted a little closer under the guise of getting comfortable, and now his leg was oh-so-casually touching yours. The movement was as subtle as your poker face.  

You might not have had Steve’s long track record of dating and sex, but you weren’t completely oblivious. There was no way you were going to keep any sort of neutral expression with what would inevitably happen here soon, so you decided to just lean into it. It’s not like anyone was here to interrupt this time. 

You moved yourself closer to him now, adjusting yourself so that your shoulders were now touching. It wasn’t exactly an ideal position, but it was at least your sign to him that you were not against body contact. 

It occurred to you that you were also sitting on his bed, alone. Okay, that thought had occurred to you earlier, but that had been a hypothetical. A fleeting dirty thought about Eddie as a way to blow off steam while you tried to stop your simmering anger for Chris from boiling over. 

This was starting to feel real now, and you absently licked your lower lip, your cheeks warming up. Eddie’s eyes flicked from yours, down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it move. 

Perfect. 

“Well as we are now both aware, Steve and I had this thing where we would try and wing man for each other. I’d help him get dates, and he’d help me in return.” you said. 

“And I am still trying to figure out how Mr. Popularity was having trouble getting dates.” Eddie shifted his body towards you, but the contact remained. 

“Turns out that high school tactics don’t work after high school.” you shrugged. “So I gave him some tips, and it turns out he’s a fast learner. He really didn’t need my help, just a good smack in the head.” 

“What about you? Am I one of a long line of boys whose hearts you’re breaking?” It was a good thing you were sitting down, because he was giving you the most unfair puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. Had you been standing, that look might have made you weak in the knees.  

“You are the only guy I’ve been on a date with this whole time.” You admitted. 

“How long has this thing been going on?” 

“Late September, I think?” You tried to think back to that original conversation, but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

“That long and Steve could only suggest little old me? I thought you’d have people lining up to date you.” There was a sincerity behind his teasing that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Steve said that it’d be easy for me to get random dates, but I am horribly picky, and the dating pool in Hawkins sucks.” You explained. “Steve didn’t even start holding up his end of the bargain until weeks in.”

“Okay, so walk me through how Steve Harrington cares enough about my existence to suggest me as a potential suitor for you.” Eddie looked at you. “I can’t get that out of my head.”

“Again, if you need me to set you up with Steve I’d be willing to-”

“No.” Eddie gave you a look that you were sure scared the freshmen at school, but it only made you laugh, which softened his gaze. 

“It was Dustin.” you managed to say between giggles. Your hand reached out and casually rested on his thigh, and you felt his leg twitch slightly under the denim of his jeans but didn’t pull away. “He loves to come in and talk to Steve and it turns out that there is one good thing about being in that stupid school, and that’s you.” 

“Henderson said that?” He looked genuinely surprised. 

“Dustin Henderson has two male role models in his life, and that’s Steve Harrington and you.” Your thumb rubbed absently along his jeans. “Steve knew I wasn’t going to be interested in just anyone, so after hearing all about the kid’s grand adventures with you, Steve and Dustin set up the meeting at the arcade.”

“That little shit.” Eddie leaned his head against the wall.  

“And when you totally ditched me, Steve decided to try again at the Hideout.” you nudged him with your shoulder. “I figured that I’d blown any chance with you, so there was nothing to lose by hitting on you and playing up my alcohol intake just a little bit.” 

Eddie’s head snapped to yours so fast that you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself. “What? I thought Steve ditched you.”

“No, he’d never!” you said quickly. “I.... told him to leave so that I could spend more time with you because he was, hm... how do I say this- he was cockblocking me.” 

Eddie’s laughter echoed through the trailer, filling the small space up with life in the exact opposite way that Chris’s laughter had done in the theater. The sound alone washed away any remaining anger about the day. “Shit... I was ready to fight him in your honor. I thought he left a drunk girl at the Hideout alone with no way to get home. You’re a crafty one.”

“I have my moments.” you said with a grin, waving the paper flower. 

Eddie plucked it from your hand and looked it over, before leaning to set it aside on top of his copy of The Hobbit. He sat close to you and his arm casually draped around your shoulders as he leaned back against the wall with you. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, despite the palpable tension between the two of you. You knew what was coming, it was written all over your body language as well as his. Everything was out in the open now, no more cryptic words, or weird miscommunications. Whatever was next, was anyone’s move. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, taking in the moment to enjoy how nice the weight of his arm around you felt. When was the last time you had any sort of physical intimacy with someone outside of hugging your friends? Eddie’s thumb rubbed along your shoulder soothingly, and your hand mimicked the movement on his lower thigh.

Every time he shifted, your stomach tensed up and you wondered if this was it. It wasn’t. Time slipped away from the two of you as you rested on his bed, cuddling with each other. The tension between you never eased up- even when your heart beat slowed down, it wouldn’t be long until a simple touch brought it back up. 

Finally his fingers started sliding down your arm, calloused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Sturdy fingers found yours and laced through them, and you felt the heavy rings on his fingers press into your skin. It was a slightly awkward position, with his arm now between your back and the wall, but it was progress. 

The stillness between you was different. Normally, the two of you were unable to shut up, always finding new things to talk about, to learn about each other, to explore with this tentative new bond forming between the two of you. Now? There wasn’t the same rush as before, the two of you could just exist by each other. More talking would happen in the future, but for now you leaned against him and waited for something better to do with your lips. 

You shifted and looked over at Eddie, realizing how close his head really was to yours. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were watching the way your fingers were now messing with the torn fabric of his jeans, your thumb moving between denim and skin. You wondered if that spot on his leg burned the same way that your skin currently was.

Eddie smelled nice. There was the faint smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, but whatever body wash and detergent he used seemed to neutralize most of it. Other than that, he didn’t smell like any object or scent that you could put your mind on. You took a slow deep breath through your nose and decided he smelled earthy and warm like late summer or early autumn, with an undertone of boy. 

What was he thinking right now? Was Eddie feeling the tension between the two of you the same way you were? You didn’t think you were misreading this situation, you’d done this before. Something would have to give soon, were you not being obvious enough? Shit, maybe some of Steve’s advice would have been good here. The two other times you had been in a situation like this, you were the one to make the move first, having grown impatient. But Eddie had clearly been the one to start leaning in first at the movies, right? Was it so wrong for you to want him to make the move? 

Maybe he didn’t want to start because of what happened with Chris? Did he think making a move on you when you were upset over being hit on was tacky? That might be it. Why did that only make you want him more? 

You did a quick check in with yourself over this. Were you mad at Chris? Yes. Were you mad he hit on you? Yes. Did you want Eddie to make a move? Yes. Did you only want Eddie to make a move so that you could forget about Chris? No. You wanted Eddie to do it because you liked Eddie.

Why was this so-

Something bumped your forehead and you realized as you were zoning out that Eddie had been staring at you now. This close, you could see every shade of brown in his round eyes. He shifted slightly again, and your heart jumped into your throat. Warmth flooded you from your cheeks to your toes as you felt his finger twitch against yours. 

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was quiet in your ear, and it made the back of your neck tingle. “You good? You’ve been staring at my knee for a while.” 

“Sorry, it’s just the sexiest knee I’ve ever seen.” You said, smiling at him.

“Yeah? What about my other knee?” His breath ghosted over face as he let out a laugh. 

“It’s just okay.” The tension was easing a bit between the two of you, and you were torn on if this was a good thing or not. 

Eddie moved so that his shoulder was against the wall and he was facing you. You adjusted yourself accordingly, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flicked down to his lips for a second before meeting his eyes again. 

“Are you sure you’re good?” He asked, staring at you intensely. 

You were good. You were so good. Actually, if something didn’t happen here soon then that would be the reason you would be not-good. 

“I am now.” You squeezed his hand and gave him a look that you desperately hoped he read as ‘Yes you can do it Eddie I am of sound mind and body and if you don’t do it I may actually explode from the tension between the two of us-’ 

Eddie’s lips finally found yours for just a brief moment before pulling back slightly. You followed his lips, not letting him get away that easily. Your lips met again, and this time he didn’t pull back. His hand reached up to cup your jaw, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of your neck in a way that made the delicate hairs there stand on end. 

When the two of you broke apart, it was you who pulled back after a few moments with a smile. 

“So...” Eddie said, looking at you. 

“So...” you echoed. 

“Still good?” he asked. 

“Hmm...” you considered for a moment. “I don’t know. I think you should do that again, just to make sure.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up in a way that you had only ever seen on stage so far. This time there was no hesitation in his movements as he pulled you closer again and kissed you. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on the bed with you, not letting your lips part. 

One of his hands rested on you side while the other was used to keep himself from squishing you under him. If he had, you wouldn’t have minded. 

In a lot of romance stories, you had always heard phrases like ‘he kissed her breathless’ or ‘she let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding’. You had always waited for the day that someone would kiss you like that, but now with Eddie you realized that wasn’t what you needed. 

Because for the first time in a long while, with Eddie nipping at your lower lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth, you felt the exact opposite. 

For the first time in so long, you felt like you could finally breathe. 

a/n: Holy smokes, y'all finally got smooched! But don't worry, the party's not over yet. I still have a few chapters before everything wraps up! I've had the First Meeting written out since March or April, and I though that would make the rest of the chapter faster to write. I was wrong lol

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

@mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea

@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

@perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh

@siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @kores-mun-son-n-more @eddiebuttcheeks

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

Bloody Painter/Helen Otis

This bad boy is LONNGG, I included a lot of his backstory in this. Writers block is beating my ass. 💔

- Twenty one!

- 6’1. When I say this dudes lanky, I mean LANKY. Slim and naturally toned, his main exercise comes from chasing or climbing stairs.

- Both of his parents are Korean, but he was raised in Pennsylvania.

- His parents struggled with getting pregnant, most ending is miscarriages. His mom was completely batshit, so when the pregnancy stuck she swore she had some divine intuition that made her believed he’d be a girl. She didn’t even bother having an ultrasound, so when he was born and she saw that he was a boy she thought him being a girl was some sort of prophecy she needed to fulfill.

- His whole life she had always told him he was meant to be a girl and he would be going against ‘God’s will’ if he didn’t follow through. He was always dressed in feminine clothing and had an extremely girly room. His mother didn’t put him in school until he was about thirteen, since she thought the kids would taint his mind and make him think he’s a boy.

- When he was put in school he got bullied RELENTLESSLY. His name, the way he dressed, everything. After meeting Tom he slowly started to realize that all the shit he grew up with wasn’t normal and his mom was psycho, so he started borrowing his clothes and changing in the school bathrooms so he could feel less weird. Once Tom admitted to planting Judy’s watch in Helen’s bag, they argued on the roof while getting slightly physical. Tom had slipped off the edge, but Helen managed to grab him. Of course, a middle schooler isn’t necessarily strong enough to hold another off a building without going down with them, so Tom let go to save Helen. Rumors spread that Helen had pushed him, but no one cared enough to investigate.

- After that school year was over he started to dress more androgynous/ masculine and ignored his mom’s pressure, which lead to her abusing him both physically and mentally. Eventually, with his ignored mental issues and the abuse he completely snapped, killing his mom and several of his bullies right before a Halloween party. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital that Slender ended up taking him from.

- VERY polite and proper. He’s pretty soft spoken and his grammar is like never flawed, big word user. 1000% the type of guy to kiss your hand as a greeting. The most he’ll do if he doesn’t like you is give you the silent treatment or a dirty look.

- Weird little detail, but his fingers and SLIM and LONG. His nails are neatly kept. He likes to pamper himself.

- He does botany in his free time! Any flower arrangements in the mansion and the gardens outside are his doing. There’s a few residents that he brings bouquets to every other week so they can have something nice. EJ, Sally, and Jane are his usual market. Also does flower pressing.

- Used to do ballet when he was about 4-7.

- Definitely the safest driver, but that makes him a pain as a get away driver. Always goes the exact speed limit and follows every possible law.

- Mainly listens to classical music. However, he does like Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, even a little bit of Queen.

- His room is SO nice and very big. Long sheer curtains, velvet & silk bedding, a grand piano, flowers, tall bookshelves, chairs, a large bed with a canopy, big windows, and lots of sculptures and framed paintings done by him. He’s really into elegant things and floral patterns. Has a mural on his ceiling!

- Hangs out with EJ, Liu, Puppeteer, and Jane. Rarely does he talk to any of the proxies or any creeps he’s not close with. Awfully reserved.

- Loves the fine arts. Painting, writing, music, sculpting, all that jazz. Occasionally does poetry! Him and Liu both like to write, so sometimes they’ll get together and talk about it. He mostly reads old classic books & poetry.

- Jane has taught him how to sew, although he doesn’t find much use for it.

- He has a white persian cat named Juliette in his room no one knows about other than his close friends. She never leaves the room, but she’s content; it has enough room to have lots of things just for her. He has a MASSIVE painting of her renaissance style by her bed. (He got her one of those fancy cat beds that look like a tiny rich person couch.) Pampers her to death.

- I know in his canon design he has that denim kinda jacket on with the pin, but in my HC he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that. Usually wears jeans and baggy button ups while he’s painting, but his day to day outfits are well put together. Rich person style in clothes — turtle necks, slacks, dress shoes, almost kind of dark academia.

- Super high standards in general, but especially when it comes to food. Fine dining for sure. Usually buys only enough ingredients for a serving just for him so he doesn’t have to leave them in the fridge. He doesn’t trust the other residents at ALL.

- This guy is ROLLING in it. He has so much loose cash from victims he can do whatever the hell he wants, big reason why his cat is living like royalty.

- Drinks at least one glass of wine a day. He has an entire rack in his room of old, fine wines. A lot of them are from Europe.

- For whatever reason, he’s an amazing masseuse.

- All of his candles and soaps are very high quality and expensive. He won’t settle for anything less.

- Can play the piano and the violin! He would kill to have a harpsichord, he might.

- He’s not big on history, but he could talk for hours about the titanic. He’s done paintings of it and has watched every possible documentary on it. Thinks the movie is a work of art.

I hope you all liked this! I love this fine man.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

[lilghostiequinni]

Piano Keys

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Ballet Dancer!female oc (Angel) x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy, Established relationship,

Summary: She dances ballet and knows the struggles of those similar to her boyfriend. She, however, isn't a competitor or competing, just in plays and productions. But he is a competitor and he races to compete, but what of his first win.

Requested: NO / yes

Angel is watching the Miami Grand from the garage; her boyfriend, Lando, had no idea she was there.

She told him she wouldn't be able to come but would watch when she could because she was supposed to be in New York for a production, but was able to get a last-minute flight to Miami in order to surprise her boyfriend as the production was now in line with the race schedule.

She watched as Lando took first after the safety car and stayed in first for the rest of the race.

When Lando won, she cried.

She cheered.

She ran up to the team as they approached the barriers.

She watched as Lando jumped into the arms of his team, celebrating his first win.

She watched Lando's face light up even more when he saw she was there and basically dragged her over the barrier into his arms.

He kissed her head, then her cheek, then kissed her lips.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled closer than ever after the kiss, whispering congratulations in his ear.

Lando was soon called away to do everything else that he called work rather than driving the cars.

She waits in the paddock for Lando to be done.

The next month, Lando surprises her at one of her charity shows for children, where he's gotten other drivers to attend.

Charles Leclerc that Lando directs over to the piano to help Angel by playing the piano after the first pianist bailed at the last minute to be with their dying father.

The morning after her show, Lando woke up to the sound of a piano from their living room rather than his girlfriend in bed.

He got up, walked down the hall, sat next to his girlfriend on the piano bench, and leaned his head on her shoulder as she played.

"What's it called?" Lando asked after kissing her shoulder.

"Piano Keys."

A/N: Again, from yesterday. One more than today's stuff will start coming out.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[actuallymoon]

Draco Headcanons pt.1

Draco has a surprising knack for housework. With his parents often preoccupied with their work, Draco found himself alone more often than not. During that time, he gravitated toward the house-elves, observing their every move with quiet fascination. Curiosity led him to occasionally join them in their tasks, and over time, he became quite skilled in them, something he kept well hidden.

As a child, Draco was very creative. His imagination knew no bounds, and he expressed it through painting, drawing, dancing, and even acting. Whenever his parents read him stories, he would illustrate the characters and display his drawings proudly in his room. He often roped the weary house-elves into acting out scenes from his favorite books, even designing costumes for the roles from his parents’ wardrobe.

Draco was also interested in sports from an early age, particularly in flying. Despite his parents’ offers to hire the best instructors, he insisted on teaching himself. For a time, he was also fascinated by gymnastics. Unfortunately, a group of older boys mocked him for pursuing what they deemed a "girly" sport, and his enthusiasm was quickly dampened.

Draco’s biggest challenge was his perfectionism. If he wasn’t immediately successful at something, he would often give up in frustration. This trait was evident when his parents signed him up for piano and violin lessons. Though he had the potential to excel, his initial struggles made him want to quit. It was only through his parents’ persistence that he continued practicing, eventually mastering both instruments.

At Hogwarts, Draco was often told that he resembled his father. However, his family and relatives saw that he was more similar to his mother, in both his appearance and mannerisms. His sharp features, the way he held himself, his dramatics and even his subtle gestures were all echoes of his mother.

Draco had a secret crush on Harry Potter throughout their school years, though he would have rather died than admit it. However, as he watched Harry marry Ginny after the war, his feelings began to fade, and he eventually found love with Astoria Greengrass.

Draco was a dramatic child, prone to grand gestures and emotional outbursts. This trait only intensified as he grew older. Whether it was his sharp wit or his tendency to make a scene, Draco’s dramatic nature was a core part of his identity.

Draco has a deep appreciation for drag shows and the artistry involved. He admires the bold fashion, the exaggerated makeup, and the sheer confidence of drag performers. However, despite his admiration, Draco himself prefers to stick to his formal, traditional style and wouldn’t dare to step out in anything less than his meticulously tailored robes.

While Draco doesn’t label himself as a vegetarian, he has a strong preference for plant-based foods.

Contrary to popular belief, Draco’s favorite color isn’t green but a rich, dark purple.

Despite his best efforts, Draco cannot grow a beard. The most he can manage are a few faint whiskers on his upper lip and a sparse scattering of hairs on his chin and jaw. As a result, he maintains a clean-shaven look.

When Draco became a father, he took on most of the childcare responsibilities, partly because Astoria’s health had declined, but mostly because he simply couldn’t bear to be away from Scorpius. The late-night feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights were all cherished moments for him. His love for his son was overwhelming, and he wouldn’t trade those precious, messy moments for anything.

Draco is obsessed with taking pictures of Scorpius. Even the smallest, most mundane moments like Scorpius sucking his thumb seem like picture-worthy events to him. He proudly shows off these photos to anyone who will look, beaming with pride at every picture of his son.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Fifteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: So much fucking angst, and ya know - cuss words.

Notes: Okay so this was the chapter that started it all, it’s the very first thing I wrote for this story and it just grew from there. I wanted something that rivaled when Edward left Bella minus the concerning leave her in a forest at night shit. Listen to Don’t Leave Me Now - Emelie Hollow if you want to really hurt after this chapter lol

Word Count: 2335

Series Masterlist

• September 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Numb.

It’s a weird feeling - the tingling in your fingers, the ringing in your ears, the copper tang from biting your tongue. I don’t think I’ve even blinked since… Well, since Alice removed me from the war path of her brother.

It was almost as if someone else was in my body, watching this train wreck of a birthday party.

Everything was fine. I was cozied up to Jasper, he was whispering kisses into my hair and rubbing mindless patterns on my back as he held me close. Warm, safe, content, protected.

Until I wasn’t.

Until Alice wrapped an arm around my waist after Bella opened the envelope from Esme and Carlisle. Next thing I knew, I was across the room and Bella had a paper cut.

Chaos was an understatement.

Jasper met my eyes, pitch black hunger showed back instead of the person I was familiar with and a cold shiver ran down my spine. Rose flashed in front of me, drawing his predatory gaze before it finally landed on Isabella. Edward, sensing the turn in Jasper’s attention, pushed Bella away to intercept his brother’s loss of control.

It all happened so quickly, my eyes could barely track what transpired.

Edward shoved Jasper across the room, right into the grand piano under the second floor landing, causing a gasp to rip from my throat. Bella was knocked into a table, colliding with glass that tore open her bicep. Carlilse was torn between helping Emmett restrain Jasper and staunching the blood flow from Bella’s larger cut. I started shaking, one hand covering my mouth and the other gripping Rose’s arm, Alice’s arm still around me and Rose standing before me protectively.

This has to be a nightmare. How did this turn so quickly?

Once Emmett wrestled his brother outside, the Cullen’s took their leave one by one, leaving Bella and I with Carlisle. Escorting Bella to his office to patch her arm up, I'm left alone in a room that looks like a bomb had been set off just moments ago. And it had, our fragile mortality just decimated what was supposed to be a night of celebration. After a few moments of spiraling out, I feel a hand on my elbow bring me back to the present - Esme.

“Dear, let me clean, I don’t want you to accidentally… C’mon.” She tells me in that light motherly tone, trying to be gentle and kind as she leads me away from the shattered glass covered rug.

I can’t accidentally cut myself, not if I want to be around Jasper.

Jasper.

“Where is he?” I ask in a daze.

“Sweetheart-“ but I interrupt her.

“I need to check on him, the others will… make sure I’m alright.” The words are acid in my mouth, it’s almost unfathomable to even doubt my safety in the presence of him.

Almost. And it breaks my heart.

“Garage.” She answers gently.

Jasper

I can’t breathe.

Not that vampires need oxygen, but I’m probably as close to getting a panic attack as one could get.

“Breathe man, everything is fine.” Emmett tries to reassure me, but it’s futile. I’m pacing back and forth in the driveway, while the rest of my adopted siblings watch from the garage.

“Everything is not fine.” Edward states, still as a statue from the corner.

“Dude, not fucking helping.” Rose fires back with a flash of teeth.

I continue my pacing, my fingers tugging on my blonde strands in an effort to ground myself and it’s doing nothing for my anxiety. What did I do? Is Bella alright? Is Y/n? I need to get a fucking grip on this hunger. A paper cut sending me into a spiral, you’ve got to be shitting me-

My internal monologue is interrupted by the door to the house opening from in the garage, the object of my thoughts emerging as if I summoned her.

“Y/n you can’t-“ Emmett starts, but she cuts him off, her eyes only on me.

“Alice, I’ll be fine, right?” She asks my sister without looking in her direction.

After a moment’s pause, “Yes, but-“

“No ‘but’s’, I need to speak with him alone. I trust him completely.” Stubborn and headstrong.

“We’ll be inside.” Alice acquiesces, to whom I’m not really sure.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Rosalie hesitate, protectiveness dripping from her, deliberate and aware that I could feel it. After a short nod from Y/n, she turns sharply to follow the rest of them inside. Odd, the one who abhors humans the most would feel the need to… protect one that’s threatened her way of life.

Before tonight I would’ve laughed, but now? Now I’m not so sure I even trust myself around her.

“Are you alright?” She asks me in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard from her, standing eight feet from where I pace but it might as well be the fucking Pacific Ocean.

I laugh, “Am I alright?” I repeat back to her.

“That was a stupid question, I was just-“

“I’m not fucking alright!” I explode, reaching the end of my sanity. I hear her suck in a breath and I immediately regret the tone in which I threw the words at her, but my thoughts keep flowing.

Reader

“I can’t do this! Not when it’s so easy for me to flip a switch and hurt you!” He exclaims desperately, eyes wild.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean you can’t do this?” I know he could feel the anguish pour out of me in droves at just the thought of what he’s implying. He wouldn’t actually leave over something so small, would he?

“You don’t fucking get it, darlin’... I have to go-I can’t do this, I won’t hurt you. Not if I can help it.” Turning away I stop him in his tracks.

“I love you.” The confession slips before I could reign it in. His back tenses before spinning around in a split second flash.

“Y/n-“ He gapes like a fish out of water, the look on his face is nothing but pure agony as he turns and disappears into the night.

Did he?

Did he just leave?

Even the forest is silent, like it’s waiting with bated breath for my next move.

How did this night start so wonderfully, then turn into this? My mind is empty and too full at the same time... And breathing? When did that become such a task? In and out - but how can I force air in when my heart is in my throat? My lips start to tingle, cheeks prickling painfully.

I close my eyes and shake my head like it’s some Magic 8 ball, trying for a different answer-a different outcome.

This can’t be, denial starts flooding in to try and put out this burning in my chest. There’s no way Jasper Hale just decided so quickly-so easily, to leave me.

There’s no way.

I love him.

That’s enough, right?

I must’ve been standing here for hours. Hours, days, months, years it’s felt like since I was staring into those gorgeous dark eyes filled with such self-hatred.

I jolt out of my thoughts when a pair of cold hands find my shoulders, I glance up to see Emmett’s concerned face. I feel as though the cold has seeped right through my skin, straight to the bone. It’s almost like I’m in this bubble. I see his mouth moving what seems to be a mile a minute, but the ringing in my ears drowns his words out.

Is this what that feels like? Shock? Focus Y/N, focus.

I feel a gentle shake from Emmett’s hold on my shoulders, “Are you alright? What are you doing standing in the driveway alone? Where’s Jasper?”

“He’s gone, Em.” I whisper, turning robotically to where I last saw him.

Emmett’s eyes widened, “He-he what?” I see him glance towards the woods that line the driveway, “I’ll find him and-”

“Emmett no, let him go. No one will change his mind, not right now anyways. Please,” I say a little quieter, “Don’t go.”

He envelopes me in a massive hug, “Never, Y/n/n.”

After a few moments and a small squeeze, he starts to lead me back inside to face the rest of the Cullens, where do I even begin to explain this mess to them?

Everyone gathered in the living room, silent after Emmett gave them a short explanation as to why we were missing a member while I stood next to him with my eyes glued to my shoes.

Looking around to see everyone’s reaction, I first notice a bandage wrapped around Bella’s bicep - Carlisle’s handiwork underneath, no doubt. Standing an awkward distance away from his girlfriend I notice Edward scarily still, no trace of emotion on his face which causes a shiver to snake down my spine. I turn, seeing Esme have what looks like a silent conversation with her husband through meaningful and pained expressions, I quickly look away knowing it’ll break my heart even more to watch the exchange. Rosalie walks over to take Emmett’s hand on his opposite side, his other still on my upper back - grounding me. Her face was a perfect depiction of concern directed at her mate, I couldn’t deal with that either, so I glanced at the last face in the room - Alice. Her features are torn and taught, like she’s searching the future and not liking what she’s seeing.

I feel like my life is just slipping from beyond my control, this has to be a horrible dream. It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago that I was standing right here, in this room, with Jasper’s arm draped around my waist, watching Bella descend those stairs.

I wonder a few steps beyond Emmett’s reach and stop, needing out of this house but not quite ready to be alone, I turn back around to my best friend and plead, “Em, take me home?”

Sparing a glance to his girlfriend who tilts her head in a nod of understanding, “Of course, let me grab the keys to the Jeep.”

It only takes a second with his speed to stand in front of me again, “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

I turn to Esme before I’m fully out the door, “Thank you for hosting the party tonight, it was lovely while it lasted.”

Her face scrunches in sadness, “Oh honey-“

“Goodnight everyone.” I say as Emmett steers me into the garage.

“Don’t do that, you don’t have to-“

“Have to what?” I cut him off as I shut the passenger door, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space.

“You don’t always have to spare everyone’s feelings at the expense of your own.” He climbs in himself and jams the keys in the ignition, the familiar rumble of his beloved machine filling the silence.

“It’s fine-everything is fine, this isn’t happening. It can’t be.”

“Y/n-“ He starts, but I cut him off as he activates the garage door and pulls out.

“No Em, it’s-I just can’t okay? I don’t know my head from my heart right now and I just need to hold myself together like this for just a little bit longer, alright? My sanity is dangling by a thread.” Running my fingers through my hair, I turn towards the passenger door to lean on it.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. I know he wants to talk, to say the magic words that fix this widening hole in my heart that’s growing by the second, but he can’t. No words can fix this, nothing fixes this sudden loneliness that Jasper created the moment he decided this course of action in our situationship. So I stare out my window, trees flying by, the outside world a blur.

Pulling up in front of my house, I spy the porch light my mom must’ve left on for me, assuming I’d get home late. I hear the engine cut off and turn to my left, surely he isn’t going-

“I’m coming up.” His eyes set like he’s on a mission.

“Are you crazy? Hell no, I’m not about to let you sulk in the corner while I bawl my eyes out like some pathetic pity party!” Throwing my hands up.

“Listen, Y/n-“

“Besides, your Jeep in the driveway is going to look suspicious! Even if you park it down the street, my mom is familiar with it.” I try to reason with him.

“But-” Emmett continues to try and sway me.

“Em, I’ll be fine,” I whine, “I know you’re worried, I’ll have my phone and I’ll text you tomorrow. This isn’t your responsibility to fix, I just think I need to be alone right now.”

He lets loose a deep sigh, “I’m just worried about you is all.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it.” I look back to my house, “Maybe come over in a day or two? When I’ve had some time to process it all?”

“Of course, I’ll see if I can find this idiot and figure out where his head is at. Maybe beat him up for ditching my best friend in the dark.” He shoots me a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

“Emmett...” My eyebrows push together, his thoughtfulness constricting my throat.

“Go to bed, call me if you need to talk or whatever, everything will be fine.” He pats my leg in reassurance.

I climbed out of his massive Jeep and shut the door. Glancing behind me as I walk away, he gives me his signature lopsided smile as the engine turns over and he begins backing out of the drive.

Everything will be fine, yeah?

Yeah fucking right.

Who knew that was the last time I would see them, two weeks ago.

Everything was most definitely not fine.

Next

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[count-lucio]

lucio headcanons because i can't help myself. just a warning that these are rather canon divergent, so keep that in mind while reading! anyway, with no further ado-

my objectively correct lucio 'headcanons' (i am normal)

- he has chronic nerve pain from the constant pain + stress his body was under while he had the plague - even after he comes back. he walks with a cane most days, and claims it's for 'fashion' (it very clearly isn't)

- the whole "missing an entire arm" business is a MUCH bigger deal than the way the game shows it- it's a genuine disability, not just a fun character trait. i'm begging you all to consider lucio needing (and wanting) to spend time with his prosthetic off. lucio phantom limb syndrome and phantom pains. lucio struggling to do things that require both hands on occasion and having to relearn everything after getting his prosthetic. lucio being too rough/too strong/etc with his left arm because he can't feel what he's doing. as much as he loves the gold he can't help but feel terribly insecure and incapable because of it sometimes.

- lucio is not even a tenth as stupid as the writers make him out to be for funny haha villain points. he's actually incredibly intelligent and a big fan of studying + reading "just because." he's very literate and articulate, just overexcitable (and maybe slightly over-emotional) and doesn't always express his intelligence in the best way (or stop and think before doing things). he's also fairly talented, and rather proficient in writing and playing piano - the grand piano in the foyer belongs to both him and nadia!!

- same thing goes for what an incompetent leader he's portrayed to be in the game... it's absolutely nonsensical that he alone was in charge of vesuvia for multiple years and that entire time knew nothing and learned nothing about being an effective ruler. perhaps he's not the most responsible leader at all moments and maaaybe he can be a bit. harsh. but i can't see military-tactical, hand-selected-to-rule-vesuvia-lucio being an INCOMPETENT leader.

- also, the previous count, count spada, took lucio in and taught him everything he knew - the game hardly touches on this and it's an absolute crime because i think the two of them had such a close (dare i say father-son) relationship and spada effectively took lucio under his wing and gave him the necessary training to be an effective leader before naming him his heir. the two of them were very... my parents hate me and i don't know what parental love feels like x i never married or had children and i regret it immensely, yknow ?

- his relationship with morga is much more strained than what's portrayed in canon - both her and his father were rather abusive throughout his childhood and he hides in the palace every time she visits vesuvia and makes nadia deal with her for him (i use 'makes' loosely - nadia would do it even if lucio didn't ask. she's not very fond of morga either and is sympathetic to lucio's fear of her).

- speaking of nadia, the two of them really don't hate eachother all that much. their relationship is much more complicated than what's shown in the game (everyone's is, really, it's all a lot more blurry and queerplatonic than what was written to make it work as a romance game) and while they most definitely butt heads quite often, she by no means hates him and they do, actually, get along a fair amount of the time. they have quite a bit in common and work well together. most of the time.

- contrary to popular belief, mercedes and melchior are not unruly and untrained- they're both trained impeccably, just in lucio's native language, making him the only person capable of controlling them. however when it is him in charge, the three of them are a force to be reckoned with (especially when out hunting) and mercedes and melchior move flawlessly alongside him, nearly predicting what he wants without him even having to speak it aloud. they're impeccably behaved- just for him and him alone.

- on the topic of languages- lucio was raised speaking something different than what is spoken throughout the game. there is no direct real-world equivalent but it's... scandinavian in nature. he has the faintest hint of an accent (and no, it isn't a jersey accent) but he's been speaking other languages for so long it's not quite as noticeable as it was during his mercenary days - although it is quite a bit more noticeable when he's drunk, and he's very prone to cursing in his native language.

[mori233]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑!𝐅𝐄𝐌.

𝑻𝑾: 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒆𝒕, 𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑.

•Alastor Arawn, known as the most feared and respected hitman in the criminal underworld, was an imposing figure. With his impressive appearance, he was a handsome man, tall and with a strong and toned physique. Always dressed in an impeccable black suit, his deep blue eyes like the ocean stood out on his face, highlighting his prominent dark circles. His black hair was always perfectly groomed.

• However, behind this intimidating appearance, Alastor carried a difficult and abusive life story. He had never known true love, except for the crumbs his broken mother had given him. Her voice echoed in his dark thoughts, reminding him that when he found someone to love, it should be different from his father. Never hurt, only love unconditionally, giving everything he had.

• Despite his solitary life, Alastor dreamed of having a normal life with someone to love. However, he knew that this was an unattainable wish given the world he lived in. Despite this, he continued to yearn for love, his heart aching at times, an eternal struggle against his thoughts.

• Despite his dedication to work, Alastor accumulated a considerable fortune. However, he never spent his money on anything, preferring to save it. This choice resulted in his rise to billionaire status, and he ended up buying a mansion in one of the city's wealthiest neighborhoods. The house was discreet, just like the people who inhabited it.

•Highly trained in the art of killing, Alastor always came out victorious in his missions. His life was constantly at stake in the dangerous underworld game, but he effortlessly eliminated his opponents. He was a constant threat to those who tried to take him down, always one step ahead.

•Alastor possessed a sharp intelligence for reading people, especially those who sought him out for their own gains. His keen instinct allowed him to identify the motivations and true intentions of anyone who crossed his path. He knew he couldn't easily trust the people around him, being cautious and always acting with extreme suspicion.

•Despite his painful and dark life in the criminal underworld, Alastor Arawn harbored a burning desire for love and a different life. He was a feared and respected figure, but also someone who longed to find someone who would love him unconditionally, accepting him in his entirety, including his inner demons. For now, he would continue his lonely journey, always staying alert and readily willing to protect the only thing that truly mattered: his own life.

•At least until you arrived, my beautiful wife, Alastor's story took on a new chapter. He remembered so well the first time he saw you, that memory was one of the most cherished among all he had by his side.

•On that day, Alastor was on one of his missions, tasked with eliminating a low-level criminal. However, there was a small problem: the target was about to perform in an orchestra concert. Alastor knew he had to act with caution.

•He entered the grand concert venue, a place lavishly decorated with the luxuries of society. Powerful individuals were present, but he knew they weren't from the underworld, as the government hid that reality from the population to avoid chaos. But Alastor was not there to dwell on that, he had a clear objective.

•Sitting discreetly behind the target, Alastor was able to appreciate the music that filled the room. Each instrument blended into a beautiful and enchanting melody. Curiously, as the music softly diminished, revealing even more incredible sounds, a new melody captured Alastor's keen ears. Definitely, someone stood out among all, maybe it was a piano, although the area where the person played was somewhat dark.

•The sweet and seductive melody touched the seemingly dead heart of Alastor. He was enchanted with every beat of his heart, just like the people around him who looked admirably at the new sound. Nevertheless, Alastor never forgot the real reason for being there, for having his target seated in front of him.

•Then, a light illuminated the skilled person playing the piano, revealing a beautiful woman elegantly dressed in a dress and high heels. Her fingers danced professionally across the keys of the black piano. Alastor opened his eyes, his heart racing as if it would burst. He was so enchanted to see you for the first time that, for a few minutes, he completely forgot his true purpose there.

•As soon as the performance ended, everyone stood up, including Alastor, to applaud standing up. His piercing blue eyes stared at every fiber of your being, he needed to find out more about you. As your target left, Alastor followed calmly, effortlessly, but his mind was completely focused on you, on the beautiful figure that seemed like an angel playing that piano.

•When the target passed through an alley, Alastor pulled out a gun with a built-in silencer from inside his suit and, with little effort, eliminated him. As soon as Alastor left the alley, the underworld "cleaners" quickly took care of cleaning the area and removing the target's body.

•Alastor became increasingly intrigued by you, perhaps that's the right word to describe his feeling towards you. He started investigating everything about you, attending all your piano performances. It was quite easy, considering you were a professional and extremely famous pianist.

•He always watched you from afar, but suddenly he couldn't stay away anymore. You became the only thing he would never allow to leave his life. Alastor collected information about you, discovering your likes, passions, your family, your favorite food, and even the address where you lived. He knew everything about you, while you had no idea who he was.

•The first time he approached you was strange. After one of your performances, you saw him, a tall man dressed in an elegant suit, approaching. Alastor was calm, though cautious. He found you so adorable, but the silence between you was awkward. Quickly, like a trained professional in various situations, he complimented you and gently kissed your hand.

•After that encounter, things started to go right for Alastor. The killer felt more and more enchanted by you. You were calm, reserved, and kind, rarely speaking. This made Alastor need to communicate more to get closer to you.

•However, one day, a man approached you and flirted shamelessly. This enraged the assassin. He smiled falsely kindly at the man and pushed him away from you. His mother's words echoed in his mind, no one would take you away from him. You were the only person he felt such strong and intense emotions for.

•Alastor had always lived a dangerous life filled with dark secrets. As a hitman, he learned to trust only himself and to hide his true intentions behind a charming mask.

•Alastor's feelings for you grew overwhelmingly, becoming stronger and uncontrollable. He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side, protected and safe from all the evil that could haunt you.

•As the days went by, you found yourself deeply enchanted by the mysterious man named Alastor Arawn. He was always present at all your performances, always watching you with a caring look. This gesture amazed you, and you couldn't deny that he was extremely handsome.

•The assassin, in turn, began to get more and more involved in your life. An idea began to take shape in his mind: to retire from the world of shadows and leave behind his life as a hitman. This decision was not easy, as it involved completing a mission considered impossible by many. However, Alastor managed to overcome it, showing his unmatched determination and skill.

•Alastor's retirement caused a great turmoil in the underworld of crime, after all, Joker had abandoned his career without leaving any traces or explanations. No one knew the true reason behind this decision, which further increased curiosity and speculations.

•After leaving everything behind, he finally entered into a relationship with you. Alastor was extremely affectionate, always spoiling, taking care of, and showing his love for you. You got married, becoming husband and wife, but even after the marriage, you never discovered your husband's true dark past.

•Alastor was skilled at hiding his sinful and dark emotions. You were his world, the beating heart that made him feel complete. He would do anything to ensure your safety, your love, and to have you by his side. To him, that was love. It was the kind of love he had always yearned for in his life, the love he thought he didn't deserve.

•Despite his gentle, patient, and understanding personality, Alastor also showed a certain level of paranoia. This was not surprising, given everything he had witnessed and faced in his life. He had tendencies of overprotection and traces of obsession, even after getting married. However, all of this could be overlooked with plenty of love and understanding. The issues that arose in your relationship were distinct.

•Alastor can also be an extremely dedicated husband. He is skilled in various areas. Alastor is also an excellent cook, cleans the house impeccably, and even knows how to sew. He always seeks to improve his skills to be useful to you.

•Furthermore, Alastor is extremely affectionate towards you. He loves to pamper you and showers you with care and attention. He takes pride in having you as his wife and sees you as the center of his world. Whenever possible, he whispers sweet words in your ear, reaffirming how special you are to him.

•However, beneath all this love and attention, hides Alastor's yandere side. He is capable of becoming obsessive and possessive to the point of becoming dangerous. He can't stand the idea of losing you or seeing you get involved with other people. These emotions can lead him to act violently or extremely to ensure that you are always by his side.

•"Mine, mine [Name], my goddess, my wife, I love how your fingers touch that piano. Can you teach me to play?."

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow, for as long as he could remember, had always linked the scent of roses to his mother, Demeter Snow. His mother was too sweet for this world. She was very beautiful, but vapid. She didn't have a grasp on the hardships of life, being sheltered from them due to her standing as a young lady from a wealthy Capitolite family. And, of course, Coriolanus' father, Crassus, kept his wife with a heart of gold and who enjoyed singing love songs and playing the piano at his Corso penthouse with his mother while he served in District 12 as the Commander.

Coriolanus' vaguely remembers how his mother always sang him love songs from the days before Panem. Oh, how she sang to him all of the classics, ballads, and operas she enjoyed. She would also pick him up and sling him on her hip, singing to him while helping her mother-in-law tend to the rooftop rose garden. A garden that she always smelled like.

But one day, when he was 5, tragedy stuck. Coriolanus was going to be a big brother. His mother, Demeter, was expecting a baby girl. It wasn't planned (at least it wasn't on Crassus' part) but the new addition was going to be a little bit of newfound joy in the Snow family. Much needed joy considering the rebellion breaking out in the districts.

Demeter had gotten Coriolanus all excited about becoming a big brother to a little sister. So excited that he couldn't wait for the baby to come. His mother said that her name was going to be a floral one. Calla. Like the calla lily. Coriolanus wondered if his baby sister would smell like lilies when she was born since she'd be named after them.

But Coriolanus discovered one fateful night that his baby sister would not smell of lilies, but of the stench of death and blood when she was born. That she'd struggle to breath with too tiny lungs and struggle to stay warm with her translucent skin covering her nearly 2 pound body. That his baby sister would die wrapped in a blanket as he held her in his arms, sitting by the roaring fireplace as his Grandma’am and the cook tried to save his mother, who was hemorrhaging in the birthing bed.

Sadly, Demeter Snow bleeds to death in the birthing bed after going into premature labor at 7 months due to the sudden bombing by the districts. Yes, the official start of the war between the Capitol and their allies and the Districts had triggered off a premature labor that had proven deadly for the delicate woman that was too softhearted for this world. The woman who smelled of roses, always powdered her nose with rose scented powder, and enjoyed singing love songs and playing the piano.

As the war drew on, the Snow family had to make sacrifices to eat and stay warm. Since the Capitol was under siege for a few years, food was scarce and so was fuel. The Snow family, thankfully, had their neighbor Pluribus to help them acquire lima beans from the black market. He was also able to give Grandma'am Snow some cabbage seeds to grow in her garden.

Fuel was hard to find, but thankfully the Snow penthouse has a fireplace. And in order to keep the flames fanning, Coriolanus had to sacrifice his beloved picture books to the flames. The books his mother always read to him and to be burned to stay warm. Just like his mother's prized baby grand piano had to be chopped up for firewood. It was either freeze to death in the bitter winters in the valley of the Rocky Mountains or sacrifice sentimental items to use us fuel for flames of warmth

The latter was the choice Grandma'am Snow made for her family. Of course, she had help from the neighbor, Pluribus with chopping up the piano; she even shared the wood from it for his help.

After the loss of his mother's baby grand piano, the only thing Coriolanus had left of his mother that was tangible was her silver compact full of her rose scented powder, her bright orange shawl, and a picture of her with him slung on her hip as a baby.

Coriolanus took to smelling his mother's compact for comfort whenever he was feeling anxious. The smell of roses, his mother's scent, always seemed to calm him.

And it was like this as he grew into a young man.

Until one day he's sitting in the front row seat of his morning class and in walks Dean Casca Highbottom with a new girl in tow.

You.

“Class, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Y/N Halvir.” Dean Highbottom waves his hand towards you while informing the class, “She's the daughter of Colonel Javani Halvir, the war hero, and she's just transferred here District 2 where her father was stationed at PK Base- The Nut.”

You're nervous, standing in front of the entire class. Everyone's eyes are on you, scrutinizing you; judging you. But a pair of icy blue eyes that belong to a boy with a prominent nose and light golden curls makes you feel like the air has left your lungs as they pin you with a look you can't distinguish.

“Mr. Snow, I'm assigning you the task of showing Miss Y/N around the Academy.” Dean Highbottom told Coriolanus, who just gave the dean a curt nod. Dean Highbottom turned to you, only to say, “Please have a seat between Mr. Snow and Mr. Plinth.”

But before you could even ask who those boys were, a broad boy with dark curly hair smiled warmly at you and the icy eyed boy, who made you feel a bit uneasy from his gaze, subtly nodded to the empty seat next to him.

You walk over to your newly assigned seat and place yourself in between your new classmates, Plinth and Snow. The dark haired boy, Plinth, smiles and introduces himself as Sejanus.

“I’m from 2, but I moved here right after the war when I was 8.” Sejanus informs you before asking, “How long were you in 2 for? Do you miss it?”

“I was there long enough and no, I don't miss it there.” You tell your classmate.

Coriolanus can't help, but stare at you in awe. For one, you couldn't wait to leave the district your father was stationed in for the Capitol, but the other reason- the real reason he was in awe over you was because of your smell. Your scent was one he hasn't had the luxury to smell in a long time.

You smell like roses.

“I'm Coriolanus Snow; I'd be honored to become your friend.” The blonde boy smiled, extending his hand out for you to shake.

“I think I'd like that.” You smile, shaking Coriolanus hand before turning your attention to the lesson being taught.

And during the entire class Coriolanus finds himself drawn to your rosy scent instead of paying attention to the lecture being given. Roses fill his nostrils faintly and it's intoxicating. All he can do is fall into a feeling of comfort, since the scent of roses always eased his anxiety. He's positive that you'll be a warm, gentle soul like his mother was because you smell like roses- just like she did.

And because you smell like roses, Coriolanus is determined to make you his girl; his one true comfort in a life of anxieties and unknowns.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[bon2bonn]

This City

2022!F1 grid X female!driver!reader

Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz, Charles leclerc X female!driver!reader.

Words count : 1.2k

*the song belongs to : Sam fisherr , and the version I chose features Anne Marie , it's one of my favourites, and in a way it reflects how the female!driver felt through her 22 season and I saw that it fits with both Charles struggles with Ferrari through 23 , and Danny's through his journey after red bull till he went back in 23 , so I hope you enjoy it ✨. If you have anything to say, add or thoughts on this au! share let me know .

*First side/extra chapter of Weathering Your Storm au! (WYS) ✨

Lando sat back as he returned from refilling his drink for the second time that evening , the chatter of his friends going around him as they conversed and joked with eachother , not long ago they had dinner , all of those who could attend argued on who'll do the dishes and he unfortunately lost the rock paper scissors to both Daniel and Max, along with Charles who lost to Carlos and y/n . Both of them grumpled under their breath as y/n (the host for the night) teased them about breaking her dishes .

Their monthly dinner started off as a spontaneous get-together but extended to turn into an ongoing tradition , everyone took turn to host it once a month for whoever is available to attend , hosting or going out in lando's case (he almost burned his house down, twice) except for Christmas where it's almost mandatory to attend the end of year dinner .

This month it's y/n's turn and she did not disappoint, a decent homemade meal along with desert's and everyone's favourite drink of choice . now they scattered around catching up on what's everyone is up to , Carlos and Charles along with Max, Daniel and himself were the ones who stayed back as Seb , Lewis , Mick ,Lance , Pierre and yuki left earlier all having flights to catch the next day , but the rest opting to stay and enjoy the rest of the night night .

After few drinks Charles took a seat at her Grande piano, playing some tunes but still engaged in a conversation with Max and Carlos , arguing while they both shook their heads in denial, Daniel had his guitar (that he always leave at her place and she'd always jokingly say that she'd sell it to a junk yard if he keeps on leaving it behind) strumming it mindlessly as he and y/n who sat next to him with her feet kicked up on the table before them were talking about something that Danny nods at , his eyes are focused on her as she went on explaining before turning to Charles who started off a new tune getting his attention along with the others as he called "I know this song" before humming for a moment then strumming the stings following up the tune Charles started .

He turned to y/n who started humming along to the music stopping to nudge her to sing along "com'on , it's one of your favourites " , she shook her head " I can't sing to save my life" he gave her an eye roll scoffing as he say " you keep saying that but we all know that not true , and anyone who can sing better than lando is a great singer " earning a cushion to the head from the offended driver as everyone around fell into a fit of laughter agreeing to Daniel statement , but also ushering their friends to sing . As she finally obliged they restarted from the top . Lando took it as a chance to set his phone on one of the shelves adjusting the angle to get everyone in the frame " I'll send it to the group chat later" before sitting down .

Daniel started the first verse softly :

"I've been seeing lonely people in crowded rooms

Covering the old heart breaks with new tattoos

It's all about small screens and cigarettes

Looking through low lights at silhouettes

But all I see is lonely people in crowded rooms"

Nodding at her to start the chorus along with him :

" This city is gonna break my heart

This city is gonna love me then leave me alone

This city is got me chasing stars

It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home

Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong ?

This city is gonna break my heart

She's always gonna break your heart"

Letting her carry on with the second verse :

"Monday through Friday I don't do so well

I wanna call you but I stop myself

And you're the only one I wanna run to , yeah

Cause I've been drinking lately , so I forget

Wondering what this place will give me next

Cause all I see are lonely people with broken hearts"

This time Charles joined in the chorus all three sang in harmony :

" oh This city is gonna break my heart

This city is gonna love me then leave me alone

This city is got me chasing stars

It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home

Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong ?

This city is gonna break my heart

She's always gonna break your heart".

Her and Daniel joined together in the third verse :

" She's got a hold on me

I got a hold on you

She got me wrapped round her fingers

Yeah, yeah , yeah

She got a hold on me

I got a hold on you

She got me wrapped round her fingers".

She hit every high note with ease as everyone joined them in singing the last chorus :

"This city is gonna break my heart

This city is gonna love me then leave me alone

This city is got me chasing stars

It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home

Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong?

This city is gonna break my heart

She's always gonna break your heart

I didn't mean to break your Heart"

Letting Danny strum the last note before adding softly:

"I didn't mean to break it ".

They all applaused at the end whooping and whistling as she joined them before covering her face as they turned to her with compliments and praise , groaning into her hands as lando passed her to grab his phone back .

Danny nudged her with a playful smile " if racing didn't turn out well , we could flip a coin and start a band , what do you say ?" she shoved him away "like hell I'd let anyone hear me sing in public!" Then turning to lando who looked like he saw a ghost tilting her head in question" what's wrong?" For him to look at her with guilt then showing her his screen that displayed an Insta live going with her own face now looking back at her , with comments flooding the side of the screen , frowning for a second trying to process what occurred before snapping her head to lando in disbelief , the rest came to take a look in curiousity all fitting in frame as comments rolled up before turning to lando who backed up in attempt to flee the scene .

The screen shook before it changed to Carlos holding the phone along with Max both trying to shut the live down (more like them reading comments and greeting fans instead) , lando is seen screaming for his life in the background where he got tackled by y/n on his way to the door , Danny and Charles trying to prey her off his back .

Max turned to them after reading some comments a hand on his hip as he called aloud over lando's screaming "y/n! Seb said You can't kill him , the live is still on! " Carlos added a second after "Fernando said do it" turning back to the screen right before it's turned off.

[squirrellypoo]

Mapping the Rue Royale Townhouse

Photos from Alfonso Bresciani for AMC

Around episode 2 or 3 I started to struggle in mapping the layout of the townhouse’s rooms in my head - how many pianos do they have? What orientation is the bed to the coffin room? Where are the fireplaces located? I like to build maps in my head to orient myself (no surprise that the 3D render is my favourite part of any Grand Designs episode) so my first port of call was to look at the floorplan of the original 1132 Rue Royale, the historic Gallier House.

This is a real life historic house that you can visit, and Anne Rice has said it was the inspiration for Lestat’s townhouse in the book, as well as being used for all the exterior shots in the tv show.

But then I was watching a presentation on YouTube by the show’s production designer, Mara LePere-Schloop, and she actually shared the floorplan used to build the townhouse set! I excitedly took a screenshot (again, apologies for the quality, which was limited by the video quality) to compare against the original Gallier House. Even though the actual house is on two levels with a central staircase, the set is built with both levels side by side, with a partial staircase in between for ease of production. Even with this key difference, they were surprisingly faithful to the layout of the original house, even where they didn’t need to be.

Case in point - there’s a door leading from the coffin room to the landing, which makes sense in Gallier House as the coffin room is a sitting room. But seeing as how the coffin room is meant to be secret in the show (concealed behind a hidden door in the bedroom panelling), there’s no real need to have a door there, especially when it’s barely concealed by tapestries and furniture on the show (and burst through during the episode 5 fight). I’m not even going to mention the failings of the New Orleans police department in not noticing it during their search in episode 5!

Another feature from the original house that was replicated on set are the steps leading down into Claudia’s room from the landing. The placement of Claudia’s room is where the bath and slave quarters were in the original house, and appear to be an extension, where the difference in levels necessitating a few steps would make sense. But there’s no real need for these when you’re building a set from scratch, and I kinda love that they kept them in even though there was no real need for them there (if nothing else, it meant we got to see Lestat prance down them to throw open her coffin lid in episode 5!)

And the final original detail that they didn’t really have to replicate (but I’m very glad they did!) was the incredible aperture skylight on the landing above the piano. Apparently Mara was so taken with the one in Gallier House on an early visit that Rolin Jones (showrunner) found a way to incorporate it into the script, meaning we not only got to see Lestat closing it in episode 2, but Claudia using it to self-harm in episode 4.

I absolutely love the detail and thought that went into the Rue Royale townhouse, from the design to the furnishings to the artwork but also that they built a near-realistic townhouse on set - it brings a level of realism to the show that wouldn’t be present if it was filmed in a series of disconnected, 3-walled set rooms.

[scarsandmoons]

The Piano And The Knife

The grand opera house stood in eerie silence, its empty seats like rows of silent sentinels witnessing the dark unfolding on stage. A cold, pale moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting ghostly shadows that danced across the crimson velvet drapes. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of dust and an unspoken finality.

On stage, under the harsh glare of a solitary spotlight, the musician lay sprawled, his breaths shallow, a crimson stain spreading across his white shirt. The villainess, an icy beauty with eyes as sharp as daggers, stood over him. Her presence was a cold, contrast to the once warm and vibrant theater.

"Any last wishes?" Her voice was a blade, cutting through the silence.

The musician's eyes fluttered open, and despite the pain, a small, defiant smile curled on his lips. "One last performance" he whispered, each word a struggle. "Let me play... one last time."

The villainess tilted her head, considering his request with an almost childlike curiosity. "Very well" she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion.

With great effort, the musician dragged himself to the grand piano that loomed like pretty fireflies in pitch blackness. His blood-slicked hands left a trail on the polished floor. He collapsed onto the bench, his fingers trembling as they touched the keys, leaving smears of blood.

He began to play, the notes emerging hesitant and fragile, like a wounded bird's final song. The melody, however, grew stronger, more haunting, each chord resonating with a raw, desperate beauty. The villainess watched, her expression unreadable, her eyes glittering in the dim light.

The music swelled, filling the empty opera house with an awful sense of dread. The villainess closed her eyes, her face a mask of detached pleasure. This was her favorite song, a melody that had once stirred something deep within her twisted soul.

The musician's strength waned, his playing becoming more erratic, his breaths more labored. A single, gleaming knife lay on the piano, its blade reflecting the soft glow of the stage lights. His fingers brushed against it, and he hesitated, a fleeting look of resolve crossing his face.

He struck the final chords, a crescendo of agony and defiance. The notes echoed through the vast hall, then faded into a profound silence. The villainess opened her eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.

"You're done?" she asked, more to herself than him. Her voice a chilling whisper. She stepped forward, her fingers tracing the piano's edge, now stained with his blood. She lifted the knife, examining it with a clinical detachment.

"You're done." she said, her tone indifferent yet oddly tender. Full of emotions yet completely emotionless

...

The villainess turned, her footsteps echoing in the hollow emptiness as she walked away, leaving behind the blood-stained stage.

Outside, the night was cold and still, the moon casting a silver sheen over the deserted streets. She disappeared into the shadows, her figure melting into the darkness.

In the opera house, the piano stood silent.

[hurkules]

Gale Headcanons with some NSFW ones below the cut

He loves kissing. He will never be a peck and go kind of man. Every kiss is deep and full of love. He’ll kiss your hands, your arms, your neck, your legs, your stomach, your back, and especially your lips. The two of you get carried away quite easily and before you know it, it’s been an hour of just kissing

Gale loves when you play in his hair. Whether you’re mindlessly running your fingers through it and massaging his scalp or purposely find your way into it during more intimate moments, he loves it. His eyes instantly close and he’ll hum (or moan) in pleasure

He’s touchy. Somehow, someway, he will touch you. Holding hands is fine and lovely, but he’d rather link arms or have his hands around your waist. If you’re leaning into him, he’s satisfied

Speaking of touching, he loves having you in his lap.

Gale is sickeningly romantic. He’s all about grand gestures and professions of love. Nearly everyday he finds a new way to say “I love you.”

He likes to lay on your chest especially after s rough day. In the past, he’d spend his time poking around in the library or cooking his feelings out. Now, he’ll crawl into your arms and lay his head against your chest

He always brings you back little gifts and trinkets. “I passed this on the way home from the academy, and I thought you’d love it” he’ll say with a grin

Since being in waterdeep, you’ve taken up baking. As a result, he’s started to gain a little weight. He’d never complain about it because everything is delicious, he’s glad you’ve found something to enjoy (he was worried about leaving you in the tower alone so often), it’s a simple fix, and he’d never turn down something from you especially when you’ve worked so hard

He shows you off. If you make him lunch, he’ll go around showing everyone what his lovely partner made. He jumps at the chance to introduce you as his wife/husband

He’s a crier. He cries at the wedding. He cries on the honeymoon. Sometimes, he cries just thinking back. He’ll hug you and through tears he’ll admit “I’m so grateful to you. I was a man long gone, and, somehow, you brought me back.”

He’s not a good dancer but he never resists when you pull him towards you giggling. When he noticed how much you love dancing, he does practice in private with a mirror image. After a while, he can follow along with you pretty well.

He unironically does a big dip and kiss and often.

Yes, he will make love to you in front of the fireplace and the piano will play a melody in the background.

He will also make love to you on the balcony. If you’re well versed in magic, you’ll cast a spell so one can see or hear you. If you’re not, he’ll cast the spell. At night under the full moon is your favorite. He’s more than happy to pleasure you any time of day, but his favorite time is at sunset. He just thinks you look so incredibly beautiful in the light with how the sun reflects off your skin

The two of you will never make love at the academy but he will definitely sit you on his desk and make his way between your legs. He’ll lock the door and cast the silence spell from before and he’s going in

We all know that when it comes to intimacy, he’s more of a giver than receiver. The man loves being between your legs. He hates quickies because he likes to take his time and admire you. He wants you to feel as much pleasure ad possible and quickies feel disrespectful. It feels like you’re a toy to be used and discarded, and you mean so much more to him than that. Despite that, he will find time to make you see stars from oral, give you a long loving kiss, and then return to whatever he was doing, elated that you’re satisfied

He loves all of you equally but he is a boob guy. Wear a low cut a shirt and he’s tripping over his words and struggling to maintain eye contact.

He can’t hide his attraction and he’s not ashamed of it. Even with this, he always asks permission. A gentle “May I?” while kissing you before moving to your neck. A breathless “is this okay?” as he’s lowering himself and kissing your legs.

Sex is slow and gentle with Gale. He likes to take his time with you, so nothing is ever hard and fast. If you wanted something rougher all you’d have to do is ask but it’s not his first instinct.

He’s pretty vocal during intimacy. He grunts, groans, and the occasional moan. Mostly, he talks. He for sure talks you through it and loves complimenting you throughout the whole ordeal.

[plasticflwrs]

★ ⠀⠀ ! ⠀⠀ Since earning her first real paycheck, SALEM has invested heavily into her collection of bass guitars. These are only the four that she uses most often and there are many more in their studio space in Superbloom's headquarters. Despite having so many, she knows them like the back of her hand and can easily deicide which one needs to be used while recording or even playing live. The one with the STICKERS is her prized possession, having been with her since the beginning of THE BIG GLOOM.

★ ⠀⠀ ! ⠀⠀ Compared to the rest of the members, JUNYEONG has only became interested in drum kits recently. He never really cared about drums before they started making it big but that's what you get for spending years resenting your position in the band! He shifts between these two main kits and has been looking into some other additions for them recently. In the middle, there is the Plastic Flowers logo as well!

★ ⠀⠀ ! ⠀⠀ SERIN loves her aesthetic guitars, especially that third white one. She is easily the most picky member of her instruments and only owns a few of each style. Compared to Salem, she also struggles with choosing the perfect choice and works very closely with her producers to ensure the best sound comes out. She has gotten better over the years but she has no real interest in collecting them either. It's about the look more than anything for her.

★ ⠀⠀ ! ⠀⠀ DEURIM switches between a grand piano, organ, and keyboard easily. She had actually learned how to play the organ from OLIVER when she joined as it was needed for songs like THE CHAIN and PSYCHO. However, she plays the keyboard most often as its the easiest to bring around to music shows and on tour, forcing them to sacrifice some of their music for functionality.

★ ⠀⠀ ! ⠀⠀ Resident musical prodigy, OLIVER owns a lot of different instruments, which have been used over the years on their albums and live performances. Most recently, he bought an accordion for his 2024 New Years Resolution of learning how to play and fills in any musical gaps for the band. Most of the times, OLIVER just plays the rhythmic guitar and violin, with the rest being saved for special occasion.

★ ⠀⠀ ! ⠀⠀ GET TO KNOW ... PLASTIC FLOWERS — INSTRUMENT EDITION.

[crowthegeode]

Abecedarian for a Botanical Child, Decrescendoed

A streetlight just turned on; there’re trees

Blocking the sunset out my window, a

Crisp and clean gradient that

Declares fall is on its way soon. it's

Ever creeping closer like the end and I

Feel like I'm on the brink of something

Grand and worth staying present for but

Hey this could be the last day you breathe.

I don't want to cut off before the phrase ends.

Just because it decrescendos doesn't mean

Kill the music. my legs and my arms are

Letting go of my childhood strength, and

My joints and my bones are icing over.

Now I'm at mezzo piano when

Once I was full forte, accented.

Perhaps this is my sunset, solo so soon

Quieted by decreased lung capacity.

Really I just want to not struggle with

Something as poetic as an early demise:

Take my legs but not yet, not yet.

Unforgettable were those days climbing so

Very high in a pine tree and swinging,

Wings spread wide as the sky I could touch.

Xylem breaks down over time and

You see I'm made of sycamore, my

Zeal has weathered me early.