#a slightly different approach than anything i've posted before

[coff33andb00ks]

More Than Anything - Part Two

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language, smut (mdni!!) notes: i still hate doing smaus but this is fun

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, oscarpiastri and others ynyln: Surprise!!! Lover's End dropping in 3...2...1... Special thank you to all of you, my darlings, for your unwavering love and support over the past 6 months. (I'm only gonna post about Monaco and F1 for the rest of the week)

↳ user1: 'You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart' MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR           ↳ user2: MOTHER ATE ↳ user2: silver springs my FAVOURITE           ↳ user3: so much anger in this EP ↳ user4: it's SO GOOD

"So you'll be riding along and having a normal chat with him. Pretend like the cameras aren't there. Feel free to ask questions about anything you'd like." The assistant lowered her voice. "Other than the PR photos at hospitality later and your interview Saturday about your history of loving formula one, this is the only formal thing you have to do all week, I promise."

"Thanks." Y/N nodded as the clip mic was attached to her blouse, grinning when she saw Charles approaching on a bicycle. Muffling a giggle when he nearly crashed into the side of the Ferrari waiting for him to give her the tour of Monaco, she greeted him warmly, thinking of their friendly chatting the night before at the Ferrari dinner.

"Are you ready to see Monaco?" Charles asked once a mic had been clipped to his shirt and an assistant had fixed his hair. He immediately ran his hand through it, ruining her work, and y/n grinned again.

"Absolutely."

He drove through the winding streets, stopping to point out the more famous sites – the hotel, the casino, the harbour – telling her stories from his childhood of watching the races, seeing the grandstands being built.

"Oh, you were always rich… I can't imagine growing up in a place like this," she said as he drove past the harbour which was filling with yachts. "But I guess it was all you knew."

Charles nodded, and she noticed he looked slightly panicked at her calling him rich. "I didn't appreciate how, ah… Privileged I was until I became a man. I'll show you my school?"

"Sorry, I grew up poor so I'm always fascinated when I meet someone who didn't. I'm well aware of how different my life is, but in my head I'll always be that little girl with no money at the book fair," she babbled.

He furrowed his brow. "Book fair?"

"Oh my god they were the best thing! You'd get a flyer with all the books they'd have available and the kids would circle everything they wanted. And there'd be things like posters and bookmarks and cheap little toys? Like a little bookstore set up in the school." She smiled at the memory.

"That is why you donate money to schools, yes? To help kids like you?" he asked softly.

Y/N smiled. "Exactly." She realized she was yapping as he drove through the streets but couldn't stop herself because it was something she cared about so much. And Charles seemed to genuinely care, nodding and smiling a little as she went on an on, to the point she didn't feel the need to apologize for her blathering.

"My school," he said, parking in front of a somewhat nondescript building. "I got into so much trouble here…"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Surely they were just inchidents?"

He giggled and she saw his cheeks darken as he pulled away from the curb. A few moments later, he asked, "You've traveled around the world. Do you have a favourite country to visit?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know… I've been around the world twice now. But I feel like I haven't seen any of it. It's always airport to hotel to media stations to venue and back again. I rarely get back home, though. So I'll say that's my favourite place to visit." She shifted in the seat to face him. "What's your favourite colour?"

He giggled again, tugging at his Ferrari polo. "I have to say read, no?"

Y/N grinned. "Ooo, the colour of love…"

The rest of the tour was filled with laughter and reflection, and they stood near the harbour chatting once they'd finished filming, discussing music and she got the feeling he was getting around to asking her out when someone walked by and Charles laughed, turning and calling out—

"Oscar!"

The man turned and y/n felt a giddiness rise in her stomach as she recognized him. His eyes were on Charles as they fist bumped and then his brown eyes swiveled towards her, widened, and��

"H-hi," he said, and she pretended to not notice the way his voice cracked.

Smiling, she held out her hand. "Hi, so great to meet you."

His hand was warm and strong and his cheeks were turning pink. "Ah." He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning darker, his hand still shaking hers. "Great t-to meet you t-too."

She felt the urge to giggle but refrained, continuing to shake his hand as she stared into his eyes. Next to her, Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just talking about her new music," he said.

They hadn't been but that seemed to snap Oscar out of his little stupor. His eyes widened and his lips quirked up into smile. He loosened his hold on her hand and she would have sworn she imagined his shaky exhale.

"Y-yeah, I listened this morning. It's great." Oscar rubbed the back of his neck. "As always."

"You're too sweet," she insisted, marveling when the pink of his cheeks darkened more. "I'm glad you enjoy it."

Charles looked from her to Oscar and back again, and she felt her cheeks grow warm when he smirked.

Oscar stammered – Oscar stammered! she would never get over him seemingly starstruck by her – out that he was a big fan of her music and she sensed him relax while she talked about recording in secret over the past few months. "Lando's a huge fan, too," he said, his cheeks still pink and his eyes still a little wide.

"Is he? I'd love to meet him."

He was already nodding. "Y-yeah, that'd be great. Y-you can drop by the motorhome anytime."

She felt the urge to play with her hair and probably would have if Charles hadn't been watching them so closely. "I'll do that, sure. Later on, after I do some PR stuff with Ferarri?"

Oscar's shoulders sagged and he was still nodding. "Excellent." He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I'll, um, see you later then."

As soon as he was out of earshot Charles laughed.

"I have never seen him like that around a celebrity."

Y/N watched Oscar disappear in the crowd milling along pit lane. "Really?"

Charles hummed and held out his arm. "You must have that effect on people."

"I really don't know why. I'm just me," she mumbled as she slid her arm through his to walk towards the Ferrari motorhome. "Well, no, I suppose I get it. It's just… Weird to think of someone notable being flustered meeting another notable person, right?"

"So you were flustered just now?" Charles hummed knowingly.

"Stop, he's one of my favourite drivers," she groaned. "I get flustered meeting anyone."

"You weren't flustered meeting me," he sighed with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"I was," she confessed, thinking of how anxious she'd been in those first moments after meeting him and Carlos the night before. Mainly because she hated formal, corporate affairs when everyone had to be on their best behaviour.

liked by charles_leclrec, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and others ynyln: things I've learned today: my aussie accent is shit 😔, oscar hums a lot 🤭, carlos refers to me as "la pequeña niña americana" 🥰, and when I sit in a f1 car I feel claustrophobic 😬 tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari

↳ carlossainz55: Sí, mi pequeña niña americana           ↳ ynyln: 🥰🥰🥰           ↳ user1: do you even understand that?           ↳ ynyln: no but it's spanish so I'm swooning ↳ oscarpiastri: I didn't say your Aussie accent was shit?           ↳ ynyln: Lando did 😔           ↳ landonorris: it is?           ↳ ynyln: you hurt my feelings ☹️           ↳ mclaren: Lando you should apologise           ↳ scuderiaferrari: so rude           ↳ ynyln: isn't it 🥺           ↳ landonorris: wtf 😥 ↳ user2: what was Oscar humming though?            ↳ user3: probably something off the wall            ↳ ynyln: it was the oscar mayer jingle            ↳ mclaren: that was you            ↳ ynyln: 🤫🤫🤫 ↳ landonorris: I'm sorry for saying your aussie accent is shit            ↳ ynyln: I forgive you 🤗

Looking up from her phone after posting the recap of her day to instagram, Y/N smiled at Charles, enjoying the quietness of the evening. Leo was dragging his toy around, growling playfully each time Charles tried to take it away. She hadn't expected his invitation to dinner after the end of media day, but here she was in his apartment, the flavor of his thrown together pasta dish lingering on her tongue.

Charles leaned back against the couch, tossing the toy across the room for Leo. "It's none of my business…" He sighed and shifted to look at her. "But are all your new songs about him?"

She nodded. "Wrote them in a fit of rage, really. Except Flowers, I wrote that when I realized how better off I am without him."

He eased the toy from Leo and tossed it again. "I am sorry you had your heart broken."

Y/N chuckled. "Me too."

"Are you looking for someone new?" he asked after a moment. After Leo dropped the toy and flopped dramatically on the rug.

"I don't know." She lifted an eyebrow. "Why, are you interested?"

Charles laughed softly. "In a relationship, no."

She wasn't disappointed, really, but she gave him a pout. "My poor ego…"

Grinning, he moved, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "But I'm willing to…" He hesitated, finally resting his hands on her knees. "Fuck the memory of your stupid ex away."

Her eyes widened at his boldness. Before she could think of the reasons she should say no, she was nodding, moving to the edge of the couch as his hands slipped up. "I'm fine with something casual," she murmured, sliding her hands over his shoulders.

"That I can give you, cherie."

His kiss was gentle, lips and tongue working against hers until she melted. Guided by his hands, she slid off the couch as he stood, the kiss growing in intensity as he pulled her towards the bedroom. "It's been a while," she mumbled between kisses, her fingers hesitating at the hem of his sweater. "So like… Tell me if I mess up."

Charles huffed out a soft laugh, nipping at her bottom lip. "It is like riding a bicycle, hm? You'll be unsteady at first then get into the rhythm."

"Just don't expect me to ride, I'm so not into being on top," she admitted, relieved when he laughed, breaking away to peel off his sweater. His skin was warm under her fingers and she kissed him before pulling back to remove her top, keeping her eyes on his face.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, one hand cupping the back of her neck as he kissed her again, this time with growing urgency. His other hand was everywhere – at her waist, teasing the waistband of her jeans, ghosting over her ribcage, tracing the curve of her breast, flicking open the button of her jeans.

"Ah!" she gasped sharply as his fingers eased into her panties, his facial hair grazing her neck while his lips moved down. Her gaze landed on the mirror behind him and she stared at the muscles of his back as they rippled under her touch, her eyes slipping shut when his fingers began to stroke her slit at the same time his mouth closed around her nipple.

"Are you watching yourself, cherie?" he whispered against her skin, moaning when her fingers clutched at his hair.

"No… Watching you," she breathed. She opened her eyes, watching her hand trail down his back.

Charles laughed quietly, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a soft pop. "Can I watch you?"

Blushing, she gave a small nod, helping him unfasten his jeans while her heart thrummed excitedly in her chest. His lips met hers again, his hands working her jeans down her legs.

His blanket was luxurious, his sheets soft beneath her knees as he gently situated her so she faced the mirror. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he exhaled slowly, his hands framing her hips and sweeping upwards. "So soft," he breathed, eyes locking with hers in the mirror, breath hot against her skin.

Y/N could only stare at him in the mirror, feeling as though she were watching another couple entirely, the eroticism of watching his hands explore her body making her feel disconnected. Until he whispered in her ear. Gentle commands, fervent admirations that forced her to feel his touch as well as see.

His hand slipped down, cupping between her thighs, and she moaned sharply at the sight of two fingers sliding into her pussy. Reaching back, she groped at his hip, nails dragging across his skin before her hand wrapped around his cock, watching his face as he let out a ragged moan.

He spoke but she barely registered the words, already reduced to pitiful, needy whines, the live porn in front of her only adding to her desire, and when his fingers, slick, dragged to grasp her hip she leaned forward in anticipation. Still stroking his cock, still watching his face ass while she felt him shift behind her. Her thumb smeared precum over the tip of him and she was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath before he groaned into her hair, his hands nudging hers away. She lifted her hand, catching his eye in the mirror as she licked her thumb clean.

Her eyes automatically closed when he began to enter her and she whined as his hand reached up, cupping her chin and lifting her head.

"Look at your face, mon couer," he whispered.

Pure, wanton neediness. She nodded, licking her lips, clutching his forearm with both hands and forcing her eyes to stay open while he entered her slowly.

In a split second of clarity she wondered if her chin always wobbled during penetration.

"Magnifique," Charles panted against her ear, his hand sliding down to lightly rest just below her neck.

"Oh my god," she whined.

His other hand gripped her hip tight, fingers digging into her flesh. "Good?" he whispered.

She nodded, staring at his white knuckles at her hip. "So good," she gasped, shifting on her knees slightly. Suddenly keen to see more. The hand on her hip squeezed and he began a slow roll of his hips, fucking her slowly. Watching her body respond, watching the look on his face, she felt her toes curl, heat twisting deep in her belly.

Within moments the woman in the mirror was flushed. Trembling. Breasts bouncing wildly, lips parted. Charles's hand slipped up, gently cupping her throat and holding her upright and she licked her lips, hips pushing back against him, eyes rolling back each time his cock hit her spot. All she could hear was his harsh breathing and deep moans and the delicious, slick sounds of him fucking her above the sound of her own racing heartbeat.

"I'm—" She cut off with a sharp cry as the hand on her hip slid forward, fingers strumming her clit in small, hard circles. A split second later her eyes closed, back arching and a guttural moan emanating from her as she came, pushing her hips back harshly and grinding against him. Stars scattered behind her eyelids and her moan turned into a series of harsh cries as his fingers worked her immediately into another crest of bliss until she was whimpering.

"Shh shh shh," he soothed, his fingers slowing, hips still rolling against hers as he guided her down. He stayed over her while she shuddered and gasped, fingers sliding off her clit when she squirmed.

She had no idea what he was murmuring in her ear, his mixture of broken English and French lost on her as she struggled to catch her breath. But she nodded, clutching his forearm until the world around her seemed to right itself, opening her eyes to see him staring at her in the mirror.

"Très magnifique," he whispered, both hands sliding over her back as he sat upright. His eyes met hers again and he gave her a smirk that very nearly made her cum again. "Now we can really have fun, yes?"

(reblogging with taglist in like 4 mins)

[sjywrites]

༊*·˚ Prada & Versace (dropped)

: ̗̀➛ 𝓢ugar 𝓓addy!𝓛ee 𝓗eeseung x 𝓕!reader. 𝓖enre smut, fluff, age gap, s2l. 𝓢ypnosis where reader is a broke and single college student celebrating her best friends birthday, and at said party she meets someone who might solve more than just one of her problems. 𝓦𝓒 estimated 5-10k. 𝓒𝓦 age gap, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pet names (good girl, baby, slut in an affectionate way!), mentions of alcohol, both hee and reader smokes, reader is a bit intoxicated but still fully aware of what she’s doing.

𝓝ote this is a sneak-peak of the actual story, this is the first story I’ve ever posted on tumblr so if you see anything that I can improve, please let me know. I want the first story I post to be good enough for me to be motivated to keep writing!

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

Edit: this fic will be dropped, I've lost full motivation for it and it doesn't really fit what I want to write in the future. Sorry.

Flashing lights, loud music and the smell of sweaty bodies. That’s what most clubs look like, and this one was no different.

It was Ryujins 19th birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it with just her closest friends and her girlfriend. That’s why Y/N agreed to it in the first place. She’s not used to social settings and spends most of her time stressing over finals, so being forced into a social setting wasn't making her any less stressed. Her and Ryujin are the complete opposite of each other and she can’t really remember how they became best friends, but somehow they did. And that’s why she’s in this position right now, pressed between strangers in a club that reeked of alcohol, dressed in a skimpy black dress that barely covered her up.

“Hey Y/N, get me another drink will ya’!” Ryujin shouted and laughed, fully intoxicated. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea Ryu” I said, a little worried about her condition “you’ve had a lot already” I tell her, hoping she would just give up “It’s fineee, I’m fineee, trust!” She laughed and grabbed another beer. I tried to stop her but she was too fast. I just gave up and sighed, trying to reason with her when she’s drunk is like trying to argue with a wall “You’re gonna throw up later I’ll tell you that.” I grabbed my lighter and walked outside for a smoke, leaving her to Yeji, her girlfriend. I love Ryujin, but sometimes she can be a handful to look after.

I walk out on the balcony, leaning against the rack and admire the glowing night sky, letting the cold wind run over my body. It’s a relaxing moment until I hear someone approaching and I assume it’s either Ryujin or Yeji, until they lean against the rack beside me. Build too big to be either of them, I look over in their direction. A tall, hot guy with glasses stands there. He lights a cigarette and looks over to me. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, embarrassed, I looked away slightly. When I look back to see if he’s still there, we make eye contact. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat roaming around him. And I can't tell if it’s the embarrassment or the close contact with the man that makes my cheeks heat up, but I’d rather not find out.

I take a look at the man in front of me, scanning him up and down. Dressed in a suit too fine to be worn at a basic club, hair styled in a way that makes it look almost untouched, and his eyes, his eyes were so easy to get lost in. I snap out of it when I realize I’d been staring for a while, a slight smirk on the man's lips as he leans down to my level.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”

✩ ♬ ₊.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N please let me know if you want me to finish it! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated ♡ (Also someone please teach me how to make my posts aesthetic I've never posted on Tumblr before so I don't know how it works 😔)

[thewertsearch]

@burntowl25 asked: I just got done binging all your live blog, I LOVED IT. OH MY GODDDDDD sooooooooo fucking good, your analysis is soo interesting and I love it so much. I also really dig ya kidsona+trollsona. I really, Really think that you should at least read the Homestuck Epilogues, to me they feel like an unremovable part of Homestuck, and don't think that the experience is relly complete w/out it. It also continues expanding the Lore and mechanics of the story in a really interesting way that I think that you will enjoy htinking about. It works better as a thinking work than a strict story, which plays well into your liveblogging style. @herestoanotherweirdo asked: hey ive seen you confused before about the like… "canonicity" status of stuff like The Epilogues and Homestuck^2/Beyond Canon, with regards to whether or not you'll get to that after finishing homestuck itself, and i think the best way to understand all that is basically like. It's a sequel. It's doing Thematic things with the FACT that it is a sequel, but it is still a sequel. Terms like "post-canon" and "dubious authenticity" (both official terms used which are often merged by fans to as Dubious Canon which is not officially used) are, more than anything, used to provoke thought on the position of these works in the thematic framework of homestuck, which is interested in examining the nature of stories, how we tell them, what they Do, using the nature of stories as a metaphor for Various Other Things, getting into unique metanarrative modes, ETC. But like, they are still Official Sequels in all meaningful ways. You can ignore them and focus on some alternate canon or continuation you made up yourself or found online, but that's also true of literally any other work of art ever produced. Homestuck, and in particular its sequels, just acknowledge that fact more than most works of art do.

Thank you!

I've been thinking a lot about how to handle Homestuck's semi-official continuations - and, like... ok. Here's the thing.

I understand that the Epilogue, at least, wasn't written entirely by Hussie. That obviously doesn't have to mean it's non-canon, but I'm also aware that it's explicitly presented as a fanfiction, complete with an AO3 header. That, to me, is a pretty clear indication that it's meant to be an optional part of the Homestuck experience, and not an 'official' part of its narrative. The additional fact that its authenticity is presented as dubious only makes me more sure that this is the case.

As such, while I absolutely will be reading the Epilogue, I'll probably be using a slightly different liveblogging style. I'll talk more about my exact approach once we're nearing the end of the comic - but, in short, unless it makes a really good case for being canon, I'll probably be interpreting it as a fanfiction, albeit one with the author's official blessing.

And, like - maybe it does make a good case for being canon. That's something I'm totally open to - and if it's the case, I'll happily liveblog it as if it's part of Homestuck proper. We'll see when we get there!

(Oh - and since Homestuck 2 is apparently set after the events of the Epilogue, my decision to liveblog that will depend on what I think of the Epilogue itself.)

[viridescentelf]

A Festive Kiss - SDV Elliott x Reader

hi guys! happy holidays :)

i always wanted a stardew valley winter event mod where you can pick a bachelor who will save the winter star play. based on your choice, other bachelors will also randomly have to fill in two additional roles lol

it would be so cool to see different versions of the play based on who you pick haha. in my head it sounds like a fun idea, might be a nightmare to mod idk i've never done something like that before.

anyway lol i wanted to write a festive Elliott x Reader fluff piece! enjoy <3

Summary: The Stardew Valley Winter Star Play is tomorrow and poor Gus, who normally plays Santa Claus, is sick with the flu. Your job is to find someone to reprise the role for the saloon owner. You pick Elliott, your secret crush.

Word Count: 3k

-----

Gus coughed so loud that it rang in your ears. Lewis couldn’t help but twitch every time the poor saloon owner had one of his fits, while Harvey calmly measured his temperature. You stood by the door, having entered to buy some recipes from your friend, only to find him bedridden.  

“Yup, this looks like the flu. Gus, you need lots of fluids and rest. I’ll bring you some cough sirup and medicine.”

“B-But-“ Gus coughed again while he attempted to contest, sitting up slightly and holding a wet handkerchief to his mouth.

“No buts. You have a high fever,” Harvey interrupted as he pushed his patient gently back into his pillow. “I’m sorry, Gus, but you won’t be able to do anything other than sleep for a while.”

Lewis approached the bed and sighed sympathetically: “Don’t worry about the play, Gus. We’ll figure it out! You take care now and get lots of rest.”

Gus grumbled into his handkerchief. He spied you in the doorway and waved defeatedly.

You waved back and furrowed your brows sympathetically. He looked terrible, poor guy. You would brew some tea for him from Caroline’s saplings once you returned to your farm.

Lewis finally took notice of you, while Harvey packed up his bag and simultaneously gave Gus some recovery advice. The mayor walked up to you, somewhat forcing you to step out of Gus’ room a bit.

“Ah YN, good morning. Seems we’ve got a flu epidemic. Clint and Demetrius are both sick in bed as well.”

You heard Harvey call out from Gus’ room: “This is why I keep reminding you all every year to get your flu shot!”

Lewis rolled his eyes, out of Harvey’s line of sight. You grinned slightly. The seasonal Doctor Harvey post on the notice board was usually ignored and mocked by most villagers.

The mayor indicated that he wanted to speak to you a bit further away from the door way. You followed him.

“Listen YN. As you know, the Winter Star Play is tomorrow. I would hate to cancel it, the children have been so excited. Although no one can play Santa Claus as effectively as Gus, I think we need to find a replacement.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at Lewis’ quaffed mustache: “What about yo-?”

Lewis held his hands up, protesting the idea immediately: “No, no, that’s not possible. I’m already the narrator. It’s a huge role with way too many lines. Giving it to someone else so last minute would be cruel!”

You thought about just giving the person the story book from which the play originated from, because those were most of Lewis’ lines anyway. But he seemed very set on his role. Perhaps it meant a lot to him, just like the Santa role meant a lot to Gus.

“Alright, who already has a role? Who could we ask?”, you crossed your arms and waited for Lewis to respond while he thought.

“Hm, Willy’s already the shepherd guiding the visitors to the summit. Kent and Pam already took months to convince to just play some of the visitors. Clint and Demetrius were supposed to be a shadow person and the wizard respectively, I wonder if we can also find substitutes for those roles…”

You pictured Demetrius wearing that shabby wizard’s hat, while Clint would be draped in a black bedsheet. Would Krobus or the real wizard approve of that? You took a mental note to visit your friend in the sewers today.

“I think our only options are the younger people in the village. Sam, Abigail and Sebastian are supposed to do the music, but I’m sure they’d survive without one of them. Elliott, Shane, Harvey and Alex don’t have roles.”

You thought of Linus. He also didn’t have a role. It was sad to see that Lewis didn’t even think of him.

“YN, can you decide for me? I don’t know who would really do Gus’s Santa Claus justice. You know them all better than me. Please?”

Internally, you were screaming. You had so many other things to do on your farm, your actual job. In addition to preparing everything for the play, you had been doing your farm chores until the late evening, collapsing in bed.

“I know you’re already making the mulled wine and spiced punch for the feast. And you helped Marnie prepare the animals for the play. And you helped Leah and Robin gather the wood for the set pieces and stage. And you helped Emily and Haley make the costumes with the wool from your farm…”

And you foraged for 100 pine cones and collected 50 gems from the mines for the Winter Star display.

“But think of the children! We can’t have a play without Santa Claus! Please, YN.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. Gus coughed in the background and you felt sad he couldn’t play the role he loved so dearly. You remembered how much Vincent and Jas lit up during the play. Penny worked really hard all year round to prepare art for the background.

“Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Lewis smiled from ear to ear, patting your shoulder triumphantly: “I knew I could count on you! I’ll try to find someone to reprise the dwarf and the wizard in the meantime. Thank you, YN!”

Lewis thrust the Santa Claus outfit and fake beard into your hands. You had no idea where he had been hiding it this whole time. With that, he walked down the stairs to leave the saloon.

You only had the rest of the day to convince some unknowing villager to play a jolly mythical creature with important dialogue in a play that meant the world to the children in Stardew Valley. Easy, right?

And you still had to do your chores. And hope the wine and punch were ready.

-----

You wandered up to the mountain to forage some winter herbs for the punch. The chill air kissed your nape, making you pull your hat down a bit further. The soft thuds of your boots in the snow accompanied you on your way, as your mind raced on who you dared ask to replace Gus last minute.

Bending down to snap some rosemary twigs off their stems, you mumbled a few curses at Lewis.

“Hello YN.”

You recognized Linus’s voice and looked up at the hermit, who smiled down at you. He was carrying his trusty basket full of winter berries and pine leaf twigs.

“Hey Linus!” You returned a warm smile, as he crouched down next to you to pluck some rosemary off as well. “How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain. My tent’s nice and warm. Marnie kindly gave me a little space heater. Going fishing later, feel free to join. Lingcods are going crazy up by the pond.”

You watched him put the rosemary on top of his other forages.

“I wish I had time, Linus. I have a bit of a tight schedule today. Gus is sick and Lewis asked me to find a replacement Santa.”

“Oh, for the play? Gee, that sounds like a task.” Linus remained crouched beside you, while he observed the other bushes in the vicinity for herbs.

The hermit seemed to be avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at him anyway.

“Don’t you dare ask.”

“But you’re perfect! You at least have a real beard!”

Linus chuckled and finally met your gaze: “It’s sweet of you to want to include me. But I prefer to stay in the background and observe. It’s only recent that the villagers accept me more now, thanks to you. Sorry, sport.”

He smiled warmly, while straightening up. You kind of knew he would refuse, but you wanted to ask anyway. He was your friend after all.

“I’ll see you at the play then, right?”, you rearranged your crouching position to look up at him better.

“Yup, see you there. Good luck on your Santa mission.” He waved, making his leaf poncho rattle a bit, as he walked further up the mountain.

You stood up and headed in the opposite direction, as you stuffed the herbs into your backpack. You knew asking Sebastian wouldn’t lead anywhere, you two only became friends recently. He wasn’t too keen on being the center of attention to begin with. Plus, you felt both Seb and Sam were too young.

Shane just barely tolerated you now. You didn’t want to risk that budding comradery, although… he would probably do it for Jas.

Alex would probably do it, but would he do a good job? He would probably adlib everything, refusing to learn the lines.

Harvey. Hm. You didn’t really know him too well. Maybe he’d be up for it? He did have a very sweet nature about him.

You stopped walking, as the image of a handsome writer flashed in your mind. Someone with a knack for words and a deep appreciation for the arts and theater.

Elliott.

You felt your face burn and your stomach curl up into a ball. You already had a massive crush on him. You weren’t sure if you could risk it, although a part of you felt it would be a great choice. Would he be angry if you asked him? Would he see it as beneath him?

But Elliott had told you he was in a theater group in school, so he was probably used to learning lines fast and possibly even substituting other roles.

Your legs started walking on their own. If anything, it was another reason to see him. You had a pomegranate in your bag anyway.

-----

You found yourself in front of the writer’s cabin before you knew it. The lights were on and you heard some scuffing on wood. He was definitely home. It took you a bit to muster the courage up to knock, even though you had done it countless times before.

The closer you grew to him, the more nervous you became.

Your hand moved on autopilot, before your brain had time to process.

You knocked three times.

The scuffing grew more frantic. You could hear him gather something and run across the room, while shouting “Just a minute!” at the door.

Your stomach was doing summer saults. Was this a bad time?

The door opened suddenly and you were met with a handsome and fabulous smile. His hair was tied together for once, sleeves up to his elbows. A more casual version of the put together author your heart yearned after.  

“YN! I was just thinking about you!”

Your knees wavered slightly. He was thinking about you.

“Hey Elliott I-“

He opened the door a bit further, indicating that he wanted you to come inside. You halted your prepared speech that you had been crafting on your way down to the beach. Stepping over the landing, you were met with a lovely warmth and the subtle scent of sandalwood. His cabin was relatively clean today, except a few lone flower petals and individual stems sprawled haphazardly on the floor.

Elliott stepped in front of you, blocking your view of the littered area. You saw his foot sneakily scrape the plants into the cracks.

“Would you like some coffee? I was just about to make some.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He invited you to take a seat on his made bed. You obliged after gifting him the pomegranate you had been carrying, which he took with delight etched across his face.

As Elliott busied himself at the coffee maker, you two exchanged some minor pleasantries. He spoke about his newest chapter development, while you talked about your favorite chicken, Phil, who had managed to get a bucket stuck on his head this morning. You felt your nerves calm down. You were only really anxious when you were about to see him. You felt extremely comfortable in his presence and every fear faded into the distance. It was nice to have someone in the valley who genuinely took an interest in your day-to-day life, just like you took with his. He meant a great deal to you, because of that fact.

The writer handed you a mug of fresh coffee, as he sat down on his chair across from you. You both took a sip at the same time, enjoying the rich flavor together. It was delicious.

“You really know your coffee, Elliott. It’s amazing, as always.”

His face lit up even more, as he thanked you for the compliment.

“Listen Elliott. Gus has the flu...”

“Oh no! Poor Gus. That’s terrible news. I heard Clint was sick too. There must be a virus in the valley.”

“Yeah, Demetrius is out as well.”

“How tragic. Especially with Gus. He always plays Santa Claus. He really looks forward to it all year. What a shame…is Lewis restructuring the play? Oh no, don’t tell me he asked you to play the role! After everything you’ve done for the show?!”

“Well, no. Not exactly…” You took the opportunity to take the Santa costume out of your backpack.

Elliott’s brows furrowed, in confusion.

“I was hoping…well…you can say no. I don’t want to force you to do this. I can ask someone else! I just thought… with your theater background… and, uh… This is too much to ask last minute, I know! It’s just- I don’t know who else could pull it off. Look this play-”

“Of course I’ll do it.”

His immediate readiness took you by surprise. You gaped at him, while he returned a determined gaze.

“What. Just like that? I had a whole speech prepared.”

He chuckled, taking the red and white costume from you without hesitation. He stood up, letting it drape down in front of him. It was a bit large for him. He started mumbling to himself. You distinctly made out ask Marnie for some hay for the belly.

You stood up, still holding the fake beard.

“Elliott, you really don’t have to do this. I remember from last year, it’s a lot to memorize on such short notice.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I memorized Richard the Third’s entire first soliloquy in two hours back in High School.”

Your face turned into a tomato, as Elliott started unbuttoning his shirt in front of you. He swung the coat on, leaving it half-open as he took the beard from you as well. It took you some time to form a coherent sentence as you watched him pose in front of the mirror, comically mismatched with his red hair and a fake white beard strapped to his chin. The coat remained open, his body reflecting the sunlight.

“W- what are you doing?”

“I have to get into character, YN. Playing a jovial, older and mythical fellow needs preparation time. Could you fetch the lines for me? And could you help me practice?”

Your too fast “Yes!” shot out of your mouth, as your eyes tried to stare at the reflection of his face and not his abs. You lingered a bit and you spotted Elliott grinning under the beard, watching you. You shook your heard to clear your mind.

“Thank you, Elliott! I won’t forget this! I’ll go get your lines from Gus!”

You stormed out of his cabin, wanting to return to him as fast as possible.

-----

The play was about to start in the town square on the stage that Robin had diligently crafted. You stood with Marnie behind the curtains, feeding the cow and sheep to keep them calm. Lewis had forced Alex and Harvey to play the wizard and the shadow person, who were both grumbling annoyed in their makeshift costumes.

Elliott was in his full attire and had been diligently repeating his lines in low mumbles. You tried not to stare at him and constricted your laugh, because the comically stuffed costume crunched as he walked. The hey had definitely rounded him out.

Peaking through the curtain, Vincent and Jas were both bouncing excitedly on their benches. Shane was sitting next to his Goddaughter, listening to her joyful exclamations with a warm smile on his lips. The rest of Valley had helped themselves to some food and snacks while they settled into their seats. Linus was talking with Robin. Penny, Maru, Haley and Emily sat together snugly, to keep each other warm in the wintery air. George sat with Evelyn, listening genuinely to her boast about the beautiful chrysanthemums she prepared for the stage decorations and bouquets. It warmed your heart to see everyone happy together. It truly was a shame that Gus, Clint and Demetrius had to stay home and rest. You decided you would bring all of them something after the play.

The band tuned their instruments and you waved at an obviously nervous Sebastion, who smiled sweetly while practicing a section on his keyboard. Sam waved too while Abigail looked over her notes.

Marnie and Lewis had disappeared somewhere, so it was just you alone with the animals. You knelt down to pet the sheep.

You heard a crunching mass approach you from behind. Someone tapped your shoulder gently.

You turned and saw Santa Claus with Elliott’s kind eyes. He was hiding something behind his back.

With his other hand, he pulled the fake beard down and grinned at you.

“Hey Santa”, you teased.

The writer laughed, making the hey in his belly shake a bit.

“I have something for you. I wanted to give it to dressed as myself and not… well… this, but now that we’re alone…”

He was fiddling with something behind his back.

Funny. You also wanted to give him a gift tonight. It was lying behind the animals, concealed away so they wouldn’t accidentally eat it.

“Wait! I have something too!” You shoved yourself behind Marnie’s cow, and took something out of a box. The stems were still wet.

You hid it behind your back as well. Standing across from each other, you were both unsure how to start.  

It seemed he was gathering courage. With his other hand, he removed the red and white hat from his head. Now his head was fully Elliott, just everything below his neck was seasonally jolly.

He was blushing. You felt your heart run a marathon.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had been wanting to give this to him for a while. Even if it wasn't what he wanted with you, you needed to know. Right now.

With one fluid motion, you produced the beautiful poinsettia and chrysanthemum bouquet you had bought from Pierre’s this morning. The blooms sparkled in the stage light and you saw Elliott’s eyes twinkle with surprise.

He stared at it for a moment, then laughed.

Bowing slightly, he revealed the same bouquet from behind his back.

Sweet relief flooded your senses. You joined in on the laughter.

“It seems we both had the same idea” he jested. Walking towards you slightly, the belly was in the way of a hug he wanted to give you. He awkwardly tried to maneuver his way around it, but couldn’t find the proper angle.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“Here, let me help.”

Getting on your tiptoes, you leaned slightly over the belly. The costumed writer placed a mitted hand on your cheek. Elliott stared into your eyes for a brief moment, then pulled your face towards him and pressed his lips into yours.

It was everything you imagined it would be. Firm and intense, but gentle at the same time. Time seemed to slow as you both sunk into each other. The butterflies seemed to be dancing inside you.

The lights flickered, indicating that the play would start soon. The chatter outside quieted down and Lewis had already walked on stage.

Releasing from him at the changing environment, Elliott looked down at you, longingly.

“Not how I imagined our first kiss”, he laughed again. “But it was even better for it.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. This was the best Winter Star Gift you could’ve asked for.

"It sure was festive", you grinned.

“That's a way to describe it.” he chuckled and put the hat back on his head, with his other hand readjusting the scratchy beard onto his face, his eyes not leaving yours. "Let’s do that again after the play, hm?"

You nodded excitedly: “Count me in, Mr. Claus!”

Elliott laughed, and the stringy hairs around his mouth danced in his breath: “Showtime!”

[reidslovely]

When My Time Comes

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of:gun violence, murder, blood, throwing up, and panic attacks. Suicidal ideation, and a few swear words. Reader goes by the name 'Angel' throughout the story. Slightly supernatural/horror I'm not sure how to take it. Very different than anything I've written before please just hang in there lol. It's also unedited because I wrote it in a one day and wanted to get it out as fast as possible before the inspiration left me.

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader/OC

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Angst with happy ending

I told y'all Mob!Peter was making a comeback..this is his rebirth. Thanks to Hozier's Work Song.

Please reblog and/or leave a comment instead of liking or hearting this post! Thank you.

There’s an uncomfortable frigid feeling in the room. It’s like that moment when giving a class presentation and everyone is looking dead at the person. Waiting for them to drop because they can tell the speaker doesn’t want to be here, and that they’re waiting for the worst to happen and the other shoe to drop. 

“Angel-” 

Felicia’s voice carried throughout the room. The legs she stood on grew wobbly, her vision narrowing. A mix of bitter bile and anger grew in her throat as she shot the platinum haired girl a heated look. 

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me-” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault!”

 It wasn’t. But it was easier to blame her, the person delivering the blow than it is to blame others. 

Harry’s hands grabbed the distraught girl from under her armpits, to keep her from falling and approaching Felicia any closer than she already was. Harry tucked her into his arm, hand flattening out against her back, trying to soothe the heart he knew was breaking. The smell of the iron on his shirt flooded her nostrils, and only provoked more tears. She fought against Harry, who only held tighter. 

“I wanna see him. Let me see him. I-”

“Angel, that’s not a good i-”

“Let her, Harry. Let her.” Felicia’s words were soft yet firm. Her lip was tucked in between her teeth as she wiped at her face. Harry looked between the two women, and at Miles who was standing in front of the door. He was fighting his own losing battle, and denying her would put him in his own grave. Once he released the girl, she ran as fast as she could and wobbled up the stairs to the bedroom all the way at the end of the hall. Vision so blurry from anxiety, and tears that she couldn’t even make out May, who'd just left the room shutting the door behind her. 

“Angel, you can’t go in there. You shouldn’t. Pete, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. Just stay out here for a li-”

Usually she’d respect May’s wishes, and listen to her wise words. Angel knew deep in her heart of hearts that she was right. That this was an event that would stick with her for life and couldn’t be treated so loosely. But, her husband, Peter, was sitting on the other side of that door and you needed to see him. 

Pushing May aside, nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare her for what laid on the other side of that door. 

“Pete.” Her words faltered seeing his entire torso bandaged, a deep red of blood already seeping through the clean white color of the bandages. Angel carried herself as far as she could before dropping to her knees, crawling across the floor to the bed. 

“A..Angel.” 

Peter’s eyes wouldn’t open, but his voice was somewhat there. Tired and strained, her hands grasped his, as she bowed her head against the memory foam of the death bed. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. 

“Shhh, I’m right here.” There was a sense of dread crawling into the bed with him. It’s the same bed they’d shared for years, but it’s different now as he lays dying. Out of pure reflex her hand reaches out, resting on his torso. He’s too weak to even flinch, her hand soaking with his blood. They’d been trying for hours to stop the damage the attack did to his insides.

“It happened all too fast and there were..too many. His body isn’t healing as fast as it usually does.” Felicia’s explanation came back to her. So much for being superhuman. Angel’s head pressed against his temple, as tears trickled down her cheeks hitting his bare collarbone. 

“Oh Angel..” Peter whispered, pressing his head back against hers. “Don’t cry over me.” 

She shook her head. “‘M not crying Pete, cause you’ll be fine. May gave you more of your blood, and your body is gonna speed up its process. And..and you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m dying, Angel.” 

‘Shut up.” 

“No listen okay.” He used what strength he had to open his eyes, looking at her through half lidded eyes. “I am going to die. I know it and you..” 

He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth. “You kn-kno-know it.” She wiped the blood off his mouth letting tears fall. 

“I love you…so much. You have been..the best part of my life.” She opened her mouth to respond. He closed his eyes again. Bringing his hand to hold her side close to him. “Just..just lay here with me okay?” 

His chest rattled with a shaky breath, she hiccuped choking on her sobs. Laying her head against his cold one. She'd always pictured dying in this bed with him. But she thought she’d be older, thought she’d at least have had some kids- some grandkids. Thought it would be both of them on a quiet, average night. One where she’d go to sleep and just never wake up. 

Never did she think Peter would be lying here dying at only 31 one years old. Angel knew what Peter did for work was dangerous, deadly even. It killed her father, it killed his uncle. Both knew these actions had consequences.  Yet, Peter wasn’t human like everyone else. He had altered DNA from being studied as a kid, from being bit by a spider at seventeen that gave him powers that he used to climb his way up the ladder of organized crime. Yet, those same powers and abilities were what had him lying here fighting to keep going. 

“Peter..” She whispered against his cold skin. “Peter.” Nothing. She put her hand over his heart and felt nothing. No warmth, no movement, nothing. Her hands shook, looking around in panic for anything..anyone. 

“Peter!” 

The yell was louder this time. One that burns the lungs. She shakes him, and shakes him trying to get him back. Starting to attempt her own CPR screaming for him to come back, to not leave like this. Being so engrossed with her own grief and anger, she doesn't even process everyone rushing in. Harry and Felicia pull her off of him kicking and screaming, as May calmly pulls the sheet over his head, before kissing his forehead. 

Angel hated her. She raised him and she’s not even fighting for his life right now. 

Not her, not Harry, not Felicia. None of them. 

“He’s gone.” Harry spoke sitting on the floor with her, holding her as she screamed through the sobs. His legs pinned hers down rocking up back and forth. The smell of the iron from the blood on Harry’s shirt and her body wafted through her nostrils. Between the smell of her dead husband's blood and the pure panic seeping through the body she couldn’t hold back any longer. Angel’s body hunched forward on reflex as vomit spewed out of her mouth and onto Harry and the floor. 

The blonde man didn’t even flinch, rubbing her back as you slumped forward and cried. A part of her laid dead on that bed with her husband's cold body. 

-

The days lingered, in a still limbo. None of it felt in order. Felicia fed her some cocktails of sedatives, to keep her sane as they both helped May plan the funeral. “He didn’t want a shiva.” Angel spoke from the couch, biting down around the cuticle of her nail. 

“I know we aren’t giving him one, just a wake and funeral and a remembrance party.” Felicia spoke, her hand reaching out to hold the woman's leg. Her free hand pulled her fingers out of her mouth. 

“A fucking party?” She spat. “Is that what his death means to you? Some fucking excuse to get shit faced, so you can live with yourself for walking him into that fucking warehouse.” 

Felicia bit down on her cheek, and took a deep breath. She could almost feel Peter’s hand on her shoulder and his stern yet soft demand for an apology to Felicia. 

“I’m sorry. I should-”

“It's fine.” Felicia says, pulling the widow into a hug, letting her head rest on her shoulder. Angel thanked Felicia for her patience, because at this point she had none left. May’s shaky hand covered her own mouth holding back a sob, Angel pulling her into the hug, the three of them taking a moment to cry. 

-

Harry and Miles had dealt with the dirty part. Harry had come home with a bag of medical supplies the night Peter died. He and May injected him with more of his blood that Harry had altered at Oscorp, both hoping for some last resort. Angel sat on the chair in the corner watching them. She had volunteered to wash and dress him before the coroner took him away. The man, Mr. Weekes had dealt in Peter’s dealing before, and he was listed specifically as who Peter wanted to treat him post mortem. 

“Your death wishes list in your will is super morbid.”

 She spoke in a low monotone voice, washing the blood off his arms. It was weird to see him like this: cold and still. Not bantering back and forth with her. “I appreciate it though, I just wish you’d told me about all this sooner. You’re demanding even in death.”

She washed his face next, and stitched up some of the wounds on his chest before dressing him in some of his more comfortable casual clothes. 

“If only you’d tell me what suit you wanted to be fucking burried in. Planned everything else out..” 

Shuffling through his suits, she started fighting back the tears as she came across his wedding suit. Again, feeling his hand on her back, trying to talk her through it. He always knew this was happening before she did. Angel pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes as she started to cry. Heartbeat racing, it felt like it was crawling up her throat and getting stuck. It felt like choking on nothing, causing her to gasp for breath. She dropped herself down into the soft green chair in the back of the closet, crying and gasping for air as she progressed. She started walking herself through it the best one could. Putting a hand on her chest following the breathing techniques, she tried to alter her breathing as much as she could. Once she started coming down, her vision settled back into normal. She looked up at the racks of clothing and let out a shaky, yet normally paced breath. She had settled on the grayish green suit he’d worn only a couple days before. Slamming the closet door to the closet behind her, she shoved the suit into the bag wanting to be done with it all.

“I shouldn’t hate you..” She started, sitting on the bed with him. Putting his watch on him and staring at him. “And I don’t..I don’t think I do. I’m just so..fucking angry. At everyone, at myself, at you. I shouldn’t have let you go, I should have gone with you.” 

Angel laid next to him, his body cold and their sheets still slightly stained in blood. Maybe it was gross and fucked up. However, next to him, was the only place she felt peace. There was a brief staring contest with the syringe filled with some  liquid that laid on a night stand. One stab to the heart would make everything go away, she could be with him again. Maybe the cocktail of sedatives everyone kept feeding her would do it for her at some point. 

“Mrs. Parker.” Mr. Weekes says walking in, rolling the gurney in with him. Harry and Miles in tow behind him. “I have to take him now. Is that okay?” 

“Angel..” Harry’s voice sounded pitiful, she felt her heart squeeze as she sat up.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, scurrying out of the bed. Flattening out her clothes, watching Harry help Mr. Weekes transfer Peter to the gurney. Miles comforted her, his arms wrapping around her rubbing her back. Harry nodded his head towards the door, telling him to walk Angel out of the room. He followed directions sitting her in Peter’s office downstairs, both sat in their grief. 

“Why does everyone call you Angel?” Miles asks, wanting to take her mind off Peter. Funny enough, Peter was the reason why she even had the nickname. 

“When Peter and I started dating he brought me home and everyone was there with him at the time. They were ready to meet me if they didn’t know me already. Him, May, Gwen, Felicia, pretty much all of us…he walks me in and he goes "everyone this is Angel, Angel this is everyone.” 

Shr laughs, and Miles smiles. “Everyone just kept calling me Angel till he realized about 30 minutes later that he’s called me Angel instead of my real name. So it was just a pet name that became a nickname. So everyone, including my own mother, calls me it now.” She watched Miles walk around Peter’s office taking in every piece of him. 

“I’m really gonna miss him. He taught me so much, he helped me and my mom. I just..he was like a brother to me.”

“He thought a lot of you too. He cried on your 21st birthday, talking about how much you grew up and how proud he was of you.” She looked at Peter’s will open on the table, her and Harry had gone over it earlier. “You should head home Miles.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I can stay here.”

“Yeah, I have Felicia and May..and Harry.”

Miles nods, engulfing her in a hug. Angel smiled sadly, hugging him back, sliding an envelope from Peter’s desk into his pocket. “No questions. It’s what Pete wanted you to have. There's a note in there you should read it.” 

Miles nodded and patted his pocket, taking the keys off the desk and headed out the office doors. 

-

Grief was a funny thing, it’s a terrible gutting feeling one minute that had her laying in the bloodied bedsheets with your dead husband one minute, and sitting in the bathroom with her high school best friend laughing at memories another. Gwen had flown in from London the moment she heard, she helped get Angel out of bed and bathe her for Peter’s funeral seeing as she could barely bring herself out of the guest room.

 “He really loved you.” Angel whispered, her head resting on her knees as Gwen sat by the tub with her. Gwen tilted her head to the side laughing, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. 

“He loved you more.” Gwen says. “I remember when we broke up and I told him if he didn’t ask you out I was going to do it for him. And I think that terrified him more.” They both laughed. “I knew he was going to marry you before he knew, before you knew even” 

“Yeah?” Angel asked, smiling at her, tears rolling from her eyes. 

“You two were made for each other. And I was lucky enough to love both of you.” Gwen whispered, taking her hand. “Let’s wash your hair, yeah?” 

“Okay.” Angel nodded leaning back in the tub.

-

Standing by his coffin was awkward; she felt like a little girl at her daddy’s funeral again. Not knowing how to stand next to the body, not liking the way the pity filled stares felt, so she focused on his body. There was a rosy tint to Pete’s cheeks, and he almost looked alive. She rubbed his cheek looking at the gifts lining his coffin, stuff people wanted to lay to rest with him. “It’s only been five days, and I’m losing my mind.” Her voice whispered to him, her hand holding his.

 “I don't know if I can do this without you.” She flattened out the white shirt under his tux and took a deep breath. 

“Let's sit dear.”

 May sniffles, holding her side reassuringly. Angel nodded, wrapping an arm around May, rubbing her shoulder. No one knew her pain like May Parker. She’d become her rock in the haze of grief. She had lost her husband and her nephew who was more her son than anything. She’d been staying at the house with Angel and everyone, she’d even climbed into bed with her most nights like a child seeking comfort from her mother. She was thankful for her and thankful Peter had brought May to her. They were the two most important women in his life and bonded like no other. 

-

“Peter Benjamin Parker was the love of my life, and he was an amazing man.” Angel spoke into the mic standing before friends, family, and acquaintances. She looked down at him in the coffin, and smiled at him, already wiping away tears. 

 “I know to many of you he was frightening, and strong. He seemed unforgiving, cold, and inhumane on occasion but he was my best friend, and my soulmate. He was a complex human and that…is what brought his life to such a short stop. I’m no good at public speaking. I'm sorry, this was always his thing. He was so charming and knew how to talk to you all, and I stood behind him every step of the way. But in the last few days, I discovered he was actually the one standing behind me every step we took together, and he also stood behind many of you and helped you all in numerous ways. I think he left a part of him in all of us, and I hope we can all be half the person he was one day..I- I’m sorry. Harry..Har-.” 

“I got you go, go.” Harry ushered Angel off the podium covering her crying frame from onlookers. She sniffled, wiping her eyes stepping off the podium into Gwen’s arms sitting back down between her and May. May kissed her head, assuring  that it was all going to be okay. Her hands comforting and cradling her face as Angel tried to quietly bawl her eyes out. She stared at the casket in front of her during Harry’s speech, slowly turning everything around her out. 

-

“Angel.” Eddie Brock smiled as she stood outside watching Peter be lowered into the ground. She smiled at him in return, letting him engulf her in a hug.

 “Oh I’m so sorry, Peter was such a good guy. Kind of scary..but..good.”

Angel laughed sadly, squeezing his shoulders. “I know he meant a lot to you Ed.” 

“He did, he really saved my ass more than once. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” 

She tilted her head, and tried her best to smile at him. “Hopefully stay out of trouble.”

Eddie shook his head back and forth, giving a smirk that said ‘We’ll see.’

They exchanged sad goodbyes and she watched him leave heading towards his car. She was thankful that Peter’s death was kept out of the headlines, it took some begging and bribing Betty Brant but it was worth it for such an intimate and private time. 

She watched the grave diggers starting to fill in the dirt, and she contemplated staying the night on the bench. But May came, wrapping her arms around Angel, a jacket you immediately identified as Peter’s from smell alone. 

“Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” May offered, pushing hair from the girls face. 

“That’d be nice, yeah.”  Angel whispered. “How have you not lost it yet? All I want to do is crawl in that hole with him.”

“I know you do. I was there once, it’s a terribly awful feeling Angel, I know.” May frowned, holding her arm with hers as they walked together to the car. “Peter, bless him. I love him, he was my son no matter what anyone said he was my boy. But because of that I saw every side of him and Peter had been ready to go since Ben died. And I find peace in thinking that they are together again, and that he is safe and protected..and- I’m sorry” May’s voice broke and she fanned her face. “And they are here in any way we want them to be.”

There was quiet for a moment before Angel let out a soft, yet grief riddled laugh.

“I need what you have.” You laughed sadly, both of you crying now. 

May let a teary laugh burst from her chest. “We’ll go make some tea and talk about it.”

That's what they did. The two had a girls night with Gwen and spent it remembering Peter in their own way. About twenty minutes in She had wandered off into Peter’s old bedroom. Smiling as she stood in the doorway, and she knew grief was a funny thing because she could see the two of them about fifteen years younger dancing in his bedroom practicing for prom. 

“Ouch that was my foot!” She yelled out. Peter dropped to his knees dramatically, grabbing her leg inspecting her foot playfully. 

“Not broken.” He placed a kiss on the top of her foot before jumping to his feet. Watching her smile and scrunch her nose.

“I didn’t say it was.” 

‘Well I had to make sure I didn’t hurt my girl.” 

She shook her head in response, rolling her eyes. Hands rubbing his shoulders, placing his glasses on the top of his head. “Are you gonna do that at our wedding too?” She teased. 

Peter pulled a face laughing, racking his head back and forth thinking. “Maybe! But since when are we getting married? What have you and Gwendy been planning, mhm?”

Angel looked over at his desk where she’d found her engagement ring tucked away only a couple years later. 

“I couldn’t find the blue quilt but I found the gray one and everything is set up and ready when..”

They both froze looking at the green velvet box in her, now shaky, hand. 

“Shit I knew I should’ve put it in the safe. My girlfriend is so nosey.” He laughed it off taking the green box from her hand. “You just couldn’t wait a couple weeks till your birthday mhm?” He laughs, kissing on her face. Angel could feel warmth wash over her face and body, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I was just looking for those pictures from our trip upstate you had processed.” 

Peter smiled tugging up his gray sweatpants, dropping onto one knee. 

“Angel, my sweet girl. I have loved you for years, for far longer than I remember. Ever since we were in middle school, and I got lucky enough several years ago to have you want me. Maybe we are a little young to get engaged, but I know I want to be with you forever. I’m not asking for a wedding anytime soon, I just want to know that eventually in-”

“Yes.” You cut him off excitedly, hands cupping over your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.”

Peter scrunched his nose, standing up as he slid the ring on your finger twirling you around. 

“She said yes!” Peter yells throughout the house, the announcement bouncing off the walls and making a home in its fixtures. 

May’s excited cheer could be heard all the way up the steps. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him as he spun you. 

Walking towards the perfectly made bed, she mentally thanked May for never changing it. For keeping it the same all these years later. She took her shoes off, crawling into the bed closing her eyes waiting for sleep to wash over like a wave. For just a second she swore the other side of the bed dipped down, and in instinct made room for his tired frame to crash beside her. 

-

“A distraught man was seen walking up around the streets of Harlem this morning, the man was described as looking dirty. Wearing a green suit, and was seemingly distraught and confused, mumbling to himself.” The anchorwoman spoke, reading off her cue cards shocked by the news herself. Angel scrolled on her phone wrapped in one of May’s quilts as she made breakfast.

 “Witnesses say the man seemed distraught, and in a rush. Looking like he had climbed out of a hole, his suit askew and ran past anyone who offered help. Seemingly not wanting to be seen.” 

She switched the channel before she cared to hear the other stories, not thinking she could handle the grief of another depressing story right now. Angel wrapped the blanket around herself, walking to the kitchen to talk to May. Her phone pinging, the front camera at the house notifying her that motion had been detected. 

“I’ve gotta get to the hospital after I eat, are you gonna be okay getting home? I know it’s not that far of a wal- everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I actually should get a cap and head that way. I just got a weird notification I need to check out.”

“Okay yeah. Do you need me to go with you?” May asked.

“No, no. I, I don’t know what it is. Could be nothing or an error on my end.” Angel says, pulling herself out of the chair rushing towards the door. Quickly calling a cab she climbed into the back refreshing the ring app trying to get it to load. The dark screen freaking her out. She had called Harry, bouncing her leg in the back of the cab watching the houses fly by. 

“I was just about to call you.” Harry’s panic was evident from his voice. “Someone dug up Peter’s grave. Kicked the headstone over and everything.”

“You don’t think it was Fisk’s guys do you?”

“Could be..could be anybody. I love Pete but he had a lot of enemies.”

“I got a notification that there's motion at the front door, but it’s not loading now. It's a network error.” She spoke as the cab pulled into the neighborhood, already unbuckling her seatbelt waiting for the sudden stop. 

“Okay listen to me.” Harry says starting the car. “I’m thirty minutes away, there’s a gun hidden in a fake drawer in the table by your door. It’s loaded, and I know you know how to use it. Let’s just be prepared for the worst.”

“Yeah..” Angel nodded, rubbing her forehead wishing Peter was there to talk her through this. “Okay I’m heading in. I’ll let you know.” 

Angel handed the driver a hundred that she had on her and hung up the phone, tucking it into the pocket of the pajama pants she’d been wearing at May’s. The front door was left ajar and slightly off its hinges. She looked down seeing a track of dirt leading from the front walk away all the way into the house. 

Quietly she found the gun Harry was talking about, leaving the safety on till otherwise needed and slowly following the muddy footprints. The fridge was left ajar, food and drinks sitting on the counter. Whoever broke in was pretty hungry, having pulled out the pastrami and other gatherings for a sandwich. A soda poured into a glass and half gone. She checked Peter’s office, his file cabinets open and a couple files pulled out. As she went to open the files to see who it was research on, she heard the water upstairs turn on. Slowly and as quiet as possible she snuck up the steps, and through her bedroom. Her jewelry box was left open but nothing was taken out, everything in the closet was practically untouched except for a couple of Peter’s items thrown onto the floor. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door to the bathroom open, and nothing could prepare her for what stood on the other side of the door. 

“Angel..”

The voice nearly caused her to drop to her knees. She knew grief was a funny thing, because Peter Parker was standing before. Dirty and clearly sore, his voice strained from not using it for a couple days. Her knees fell out from under her, Peter using his reflexes to catch the gun and her all in one go. Smearing mud and blood lightly on her as he caught her. He placed the gun on the counter away from them as he slid down onto the floor with her. 

“Shh, shh I know. I know. It’s scary. It’s okay, Angel. Breathe okay. In and out.” 

She couldn’t even find her voice to scream, she reached out hitting him trying to get him away from her. A ghost from her nightmare.  The harder she hit though, the faster she realized he was real..this was all real. 

“You’re dead.” 

“I was..technically. Kind of yeah.” 

“Not technically, legally.”

Peter laughed shakily holding her, tears starting to pour out of his own eyes. His lips pressed against her forehead letting out a gasp of air. 

“Spiders..play dead when they sense danger. Meaning their bodies shut down completely out of their control, as a way to replenish and prepare to attack and prevent further damage.” She watched intently as he explained his mad man ramblings. 

“I guess when I got bit that’s something my nervous system developed the ability to do. I read about it all those years ago after I got bit. It just never happened until I took so much damage. So, yes. I was..I did die. However, the amount of my own blood that Harry and May pumped into me. Helped me heal in that shut down state.” Peter laughs hearing himself. He sounded fucking crazy. Angel reached her hand out cradling his face, gasping at his warmth. His heat radiating off his body again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lunged forward holding him in a hug sobbing happily. 

Harry’s feet pounded against the hardwood floor as he yelled for her. 

“Oh fuck.”

“Hey Harry.” Peter laughed awkwardly. “Long story.” 

Harry, in shock, stumbled out of the room immediately making phone calls. Letting out a scream of shock and awe.

“Angel..” Peter whispered. “I need to shower okay. You can stay with me though if you want.”

So she did, she washed his hair and body. Rubbing her fingers over the held wounds that once littered his chest now just scars in their place. So much for being superhuman.

“We’re never gonna have a normal life are we?”

Peter shook his head, kissing her head. 

“No, no we won’t. But we’ll have each other, and no matter what happens. No grave will hold me down.” He laughs holding them together, making her look up at him. “I’m coming back here, back to you everytime.”

 She shook her  head holding him close listening to the beat of his heart, finally feeling that piece she lost crawl back home into her chest.

I know that was different...I hope you guys liked it. I really wanted to bring Mob!Peter back but I'm nothing if not dramatic..so :)

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @a-lumos-in-the-nox @moonyslove78 @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please check my pinned post!

[extreme-unorthodox-cuddles]

An encounter

So because me and some frens have started a thing about silly horror/analog horror stuff on discord I wrote this silly thing with my sona (who I don't think I've really said anything about on here will do that once I feel confident enough to draw him) doing a silly spooky thing

Content warning for unwilling prey, some horror elements and mild(?) body horror

Also @mysticcomfort because you told me to post this here

Wandering is risky, especially when alone. The sightings of unknown phenomena and disappearances and subsequent reappearances of those who do so are exemplary of this. Yet that can end up not deterring some, and even encouraging others, wanting to be the first to record what has been causing the strange happenings. But still, it is best to know the area, lest you get lost.

As one poor soul found out the hard way.

They pushed past branches and gazed up at the sky, void of any stars, trying to find some sense of direction. Every tree seemed identical, and no indicative light could be seen. They trekked through the foliage, hoping that if they continued in a straight line, they would come across something. But at the same time, they questioned if that would really be better than encountering nothing. Quiet shuffling could be heard all around them, and they could swear that branches and roots of trees seemed to appear and disappear. Sometimes, in the dark, the rings on a birch tree’s bark almost seemed like real eyes staring right at them, but a blink got rid of the feeling.

A sudden loud noise startled them, and they walked backwards from it, until they bumped into something. They yelped, starting to panic as they twirled around to face what they bumped into, and saw a strange person wearing a tall hat turn around as well, though notably calmer.

“Woah, woah, you ok? You look like you just saw a ghost.” He said to them, trying to ease them. “You seem lost, are ya lost?”

They explained their plight to the stranger, having let their guard down now that they have another human to talk to. He held his hand up to his face in a thoughtful pose while he listened.

“Hmm. Well, I know the area here quite well, I can help you if you want, just follow me, I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

He began walking off, and they followed suit. They had an uneasy feeling in them, but it was overcome by their relief at finally having someone else to talk to. Besides, of the recent disappearances, everyone had returned and the most damage they were aware of happening to them was nothing more than a few cuts and bruises, the kind that would heal in a week at most.

Their unease grew, however, when the stranger walked down into a bunker of some kind. 

“I know this seems like a bad idea, but I promise you you’ll be safe.” He gave them a smile, though something about it seemed… off, slightly. But despite their uneasy feelings, they followed in.

There was very little light in the bunker, aside from a ceiling light that only illuminated a small spot in the center of the room. They couldn’t see the person they followed in, and it didn’t help they could swear they saw something slip out from the light as they approached. They called out with a low voice. And shortly after doing so, they heard the door shut behind them, and they swiveled around to look, not that they could see much.

“Sorry to have tricked you like that.” A familiar voice echoed from the side of the room opposite the door, making them swivel around again. As he spoke, some other quieter voices spoke the same words at the same time, but all around them. “I think we can both agree that you would have found it a bit harder to trust me like this.” He approached them, and as he stepped into the light, it was clear he was different. His legs were preceded by black tendrils, swiftly growing on the ground before him in very general directions. His arms seemed to have grown, becoming a material not unlike that of the tendrils on the ground, which they had noticed were on the walls and ceiling as well. And his mouth had grown wider, and was filled with jagged, teal, crystalline teeth, with a couple more of those tendrils flowing out like long tongues, and a similar mouth had formed on the exposed patch of his stomach.

They couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, paralyzed with fear, while he continued his approach. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around them, meaning they couldn’t move now even if they wanted to.

“I do keep my word, though. I will keep you somewhere safe. Though you… might not like where exactly that is.” As he said that, he began opening his mouth wide, and elongating the tendrils in his mouth, wrapping them around them. They struggled against him, but it proved completely ineffective as they were pulled into the void of this… thing’s mouth. They felt the pull of what might be considered throat muscles pulling them deeper. They couldn’t believe what was happening to them. It had to be a nightmare. They kept being pulled in further and further, until they were curled up in a tight space, unable to escape. They soon eventually passed out from everything that had just happened to them.

…

They jolted up in bed, gasping for breath. In bed… It was a nightmare. They caught their breath and calmed themself down, briefly nervously laughing. They checked themself just in case they were hurt, but nothing was wrong, they were perfectly fine. They breathed a sigh of sheer relief and turned on their bedside lamp. Their paranoia must still be high, as they thought they saw some black tendrils quickly recede into the cracks of their doorframe the moment the room was flooded with light.

[rielzero]

Original by for-tymora's blog, altering this slightly and removing some bits to prevent overly spoiling my oc.

30 Questions for Your Tav! [ Ask Meme ]

Your Tav as a Companion

1. What would your Tav’s greetings be (at different levels of approval)?

Negative (<0):

He stares just at you, Clicking his tongue in an annoyed tone.

"Got nobody else?"

"I would prefer if you'd find a better source of entertainment."

Neutral (0 - 19):

"Seems like you've got something to say."

He stares at you, just raising a brow and cocking his head sideways.

“This better be important.”

Medium and up (20+):

"Hmm? Sorry, you caught me off guard."

"Feeling chatty? I don't mind."

"I'm all ears." Gestures to his ears.

When spoken to by someone other than the player character:

"I'd prefer to be in touch with someone better suited for important conversations. No small talk."

Flirting:

Pretends he wasn't intensely eyeballing your back earlier, winks.

"Something wrong, love?"

"Hey, caught you staring.''

"I was hoping you'd talk to me."

"You're looking dreamy today."

"Hello, love."

"..Hmm? Hmm.." He seems happy.

"I was wondering when you'd need me again."

Partnered:

"Hello, partner in crime." Mischief on his face.

"Say what you need, I'm here to listen."

Act 3 Vampire - Partnered:

"You look hungry, or maybe I'm... Heh."

"Ask me anything, anything, anything.."

"I'd kill if it'd make you happy."

"My love, we are so close to victory, I can almost touch it." (To Astarion Origin)

''You're looking splendid and magical today.'' (To Gale Origin)

"Yes, my sun?" (To Astarion Origin)

''Yes, my love?''

Broken up:

He Just looks at you emptily, and disappointed. Dead eyed.

2. Describe their tent setup! What’s on the outside? The inside?

It's the most put-together you've even seen. Stitched to the brim, looks like it can collapse and barely covers the bedroll. Has a bunch of bags surrounding it and crates to support the rest, kind of like a pillow-fort situation.

3. What would their character quest be titled? Why?

I personally haven't decided on this yet. Rat-themed perhaps, or something to do with him looking sickly.

4. What would your Tav’s romance scenes look like? How many would they have?

Probably depends on the Origin character, I can't picture him being romanced by anyone other than Gale or Astarion at this time. There would be romance and bonding scenes.

5. Describe their idle animations!

Cracking neck, cracking bones, stretching uncomfortably.

Pondering, tapping his foot on the ground with arms folded.

Wiping his face and looking at his hand for a moment before wiping it off his pants.

Tightening his arm wraps (would look like he's rubbing his lower arms.)

Casting Shocking Grasp, just to look at the sparks in his hands, then waves it off.

Pulling out his journal and browsing through it or jotting something down.

Sitting down and drawing (Stops upon approach.)

Act 3 idle Animations would be conditional adittions.

Poking his teeth, then stare at his finger..

Observe his wrist scars, turning it around and stroking it.

Scratch his neck scars, stretch.

Looks like he's smelling something, clearly bothered by it.

Pull out a bottle of blood and sip from it excessively.

Sitting down and drawing (doesn't stop when approached.)

6. How would the player go about meeting them in Act 1? What is their introduction?

I've done a post on this before I think, but it would be in the location near the intellect devourers, hunched over and trying to keep himself from hurling.

8. After Act 3, What are they talking about at the reunion party?

Probably about the change of appearance and hairstyle, and how he's doing better than he was after the defeat of the netherbrain. He's still settling down and getting used to things, 6 months wasn't enough.

Back to Basics

9. What’s the significance behind your Tav’s name?

Locke misspells his name, because he came up with it when he was sixteen. In his mind, Loki is written Locke at first because it sounds like ''Lock-i'' to him, he was the lockpicker in a gang of orphans.

10. Does your Tav have a last name? Is there a meaning behind it?

He comes up with it on the spot, it means ''Trick'' and its very much meant to be a trick.

12. Does your Tav have any tattoos or scars? Why?

Locke's facial tattoo is magic ink, its a protective ward of sorts. Won't elaborate. His scars are all from abuse, different people.

13. What is your Tav’s main color palette? Why do they choose those colors?

Has a strong attachment to purple because of his dead childhood friend, who was a purple tiefling.

14. Where are they from? What was home like?

Baldurian sewers. Not much of a home, more like a nightmare.

15. Is your Tav more likely to fight/flight/freeze/fawn?

He fights in most cases.

17. Do they have any enemies outside of the main plot? Any friends?

He has acquaintances, his closest being a fatherly figure, The Undertaker, Jermaine.

Deep Dives

20. What is their relationship to touch? Do they shy away from it? Do they need it to feel present?

Very much touch-starved, but dislikes casual friendly touch because he's afraid of affection at first.

21. Describe a defining moment from their past, which makes them who they are today!

He has CPTSD, it wouldn't be a singularity, though I'd say the moment he became a warlock is pretty big.

22. How is your Tav’s relationship with their family? Their parents?

The woman who raised him thoroughly abused him, so did the other orphans he was raised with. As adults, their relationship is strained and reduced to just being familiar with one another. He doesn't view them as family. He simply can't.

24. What does your Tav consider to be their own biggest character flaw?

He desires to have something of his own, but fails to give it a place. He feels like everything that he does have will never be completely his own, at times. (I'm being vague on purpose.)

25. What is something they would die on a hill over?

Wizards being prone to explosiveness. He will not accept the reality that some wizards never blow themselves up in any capacity. They're all one wrong step away from exploding themselves.

27. What is the worst thing they think they’ve ever done/said to someone they loved?

Say no to his ex-boyfriend.

28. Describe a smell that reminds your Tav of childhood.

..Cooked Dwarf roast.

29. What fears keep them up at night?

Sleeping in the dark.

30. What does your Tav want more than anything?

Power, or to feel like he's worth something.

[a-random-weeb]

Hello, I love your works and would like to request something (if it is ok with you)

So, imagine BSD charecters like Dazai,Chuuya, Fyodor and Nikolai (you can add other charecters if you want to) with a s/o whose eye color changes based on their emotions. Like red for anger, green for happiness, pink/ purple for love, grey/ blue for when they are upset and Brown is like a neutral color for them.

(you can choose the eye colors if you want to)

-🖤

Im so happy you like my writing!

BSD men with a s/o whos eye changes color based on their emotions

I don't write for Nikolai, I don't trust myself not to make him too ooc... if you think the Fyodor one is ooc, you would also be correct

Also, before this starts I would like to share an image with you all

idk who did this, but it's 100% accurate

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

Dazai:

"n-no! Pink eyes means- i'm- h-happy!'

"Oh? I thought green meant happy?" A smirk crosses Dazai's face as your whole face turns red.

"Pink is more like j-joy! Yeah! Joy!" You try to cover up the true meaning behind the color, sending Dazai an awkward smile.

"Oh? But I've never seen your eyes pink on any other occasion? And Why is your face so red?" Dazai takes a step closer and cups your face with his right hand, teasing you. "Perhaps pink means embarrassment? Or perhaps... Love~?" He whispers seductively in your ear.

"Y-you know purple is love!" You defend yourself, slapping Dazai's hand away as a pout crosses your lips.

"I was referring to romantic love, dear." He winks. You groan at the cheesiness of the situation, yet are incredibly flustered at the same time. Dazai's shit-eating smirk only gross as he hears your silence. "Not talking now are we? Why is your eyes turning a deeper shade of pink? It means joy right? Are you perhaps... Enjoying this?"

The your eyes start to turn yellow (yellow = embarrassment) as you turn your head to glance in the opposite direction of Dazai, not wanting him to see the redness of your cheeks. Dazai chuckles at this action, taking your face in his hands so your face is infront of yours before pecking your lips.

"Your face gives me all I need to know how you feel about me, and what pink eyes REALLY mean..."

𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖+.*𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖+.*𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖+.*𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖+.*𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖+.*

Chuuya:

•Is confused with slight suspicion of what it means

"Why do your eyes only pink around me? What do pink eyes mean?" Chuuya tilts his head slightly.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...." your whole face turns red, "It means uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

"How the fuck do you not know?!" Chuuya scowls

"W-well I know! It's just... I-its hard to explain..."

"Just tell me what emotion it is damn it!" Chuuya is pushy, praying to himself it means love. He's had a huge crush on you for awhile, and he hopes so damn much there's a reason your eyes only turn pink for him... If that's what it means...

"I-it means... L-love..." You mumble under your breath. Chuuya shoots you a glare,

"Speak up, idiot!!" He barks like a chihuahua at you. You look away, you're eyes a darker pink than they've ever been in your life.

"It's love! And I know purple is love... it's.. it's a different kind of love!" Now Chuuyas face was pinker than your eyes as he slowly approaches you... He captures your lips in his... Wow... That was unexpected

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩˚⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩˚⋆｡°✩

I'm so sorry this took so long 😭 there's also a lot of other old requests, like a mermaid one and stuff. It'll all be out eventually, I just have no idea how I plan to do this. I'm trying to post everyday, I think in doing well. Also sorry I didn't write for Fyodor or Nikolai, I don't write for Nikolai and I can't think of anything for Fyodor so...

[guardian-angle22]

Felt like putting together a little themed fic rec list! Here are some coda/missing moment fics for 3.07 Red vs. Blue. If I've missed any, let me know and I can add them to the list! (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimer: If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked.]

SOFTBALL FOCUSED:

◆ Win or Lose by @heartstringsduet (Words: 8.3K; Rating: E; d/s elements)

What if the softball game ended with nothing but TK receiving his rightful reward for winning? What if Carlos ever so slightly tweaked his plans?

◆ in your corner by @heartstringsduet (Words: 7.1K; Rating: M; d/s elements; part 5 of a series)

Win or lose, Carlos promises to reward TK after the softball game tonight. But all it takes is a single moment to unravel what they’ve built together.

◆ it's hotter than hell where i'm at by @petalwritesx (Words: 1.3K; Rating: M)

“If I would’ve known a softball uniform did this to you,” T.K. says, breathless between kisses, “I would’ve bought one a long time ago.” OR: Before their little award ceremony, Carlos and T.K. have some alone time.

◆ Sex Drive by @welcometololaland (Words: 3.8K; Rating: E)

Carlos has a thing for TK playing softball and TK has a thing for reflective surfaces, apparently. OR A season 3, episode 7 missing scene.

◆ "You love this, don't you?" by @irispurpurea (Words: 403; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 28. Prompt: “You love this, don’t you?” Missing scene from Red vs. Blue

◆ Gold name and number by @goodways (Words: 3.6K; Rating: E)

“I’m just saying Carlos, it was a simple ‘talk shit, get hit scenario’, the law has no place getting involved,” TK spoke with a tone like he was explaining simple first grade math. “First of all, that’s not true and second of all… no, no I think that’s it.” * Carlos has some feelings about TK in his softball outfit.

◆ Take Me Out to the Ball Game by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

He’s seen his boyfriend’s ass in a lot of outfits; his uniform, jeans, slacks, but nothing, nothing tops this. His boyfriend is hot. He’s so fucking hot. Carlos isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything hotter in his entire life.  A follow up fic for 3x07 "Red vs. Blue" in which T.K. wears a new kind of uniform and Carlos likes it. A lot.

◆ your hand under my jacket by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 5.8K; Rating: T)

"You know, I’m grateful you came to watch,” TK hums as he steps into their loft through the door, and immediately turns around to give him one of those wide and brilliant grins, and pokes the peak of Carlos’ cap upwards, “even though it looked like you were trying to be as incognito as possible.

END OF EPISODE FOCUSED or BOTH (TW: discussions of grief/death/dying):

◆ Everest to mariana by @paperstorm

A tag for 3x7, 'Red vs Blue', in which Carlos fulfills a teenaged fantasy and TK gets devastating news.

◆ i can't just bring them back, but darling i can hold your hand by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 2K; Rating: T)

It’s been hours, and TK hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t screamed, or cried, or done anything that Carlos has come to expect from someone who just found out a loved one passed away. He’s just curled up in a ball on the bed, staring blankly at the wall, and that’s where he’s been ever since he walked away from the party like a ghost. * a 3.07 coda/3.08 spec fic

◆ underneath by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 4.2K; Rating: T)

Grief is a powerful thing, and it affects everyone differently, creating unique pain and ache for everyone, and it is always a process, and TK has had his grief only for mere hours. It is still new, growing and invading space in him.

◆ not a victory march by @reyesstrand (Words: 2.8K; Rating: T)

Carlos approaches, still under the assumption that everything is fine because it's supposed to be, and TK feels his eyes start to burn when Carlos asks him to tell his mom he says hi.  Because that's something he's never going to do again.

◆ Surrounded by Love by @bluenet13 (Words: 5.8K; Rating: T)

A look at TK in the days, weeks and months following Gwyn’s passing as he processes his grief with the help of his family and friends. A 3x07 Coda

◆ this weight off your shoulders by @marjansmarwani (Words: 1.9K; Rating: T)

When Andrea Reyes receives a call from her son with terrible news, she makes a promise to a woman she only met once but always felt she knew. A 3x07 Coda

◆ may there be abundant peace by @maxbegone (Words: 2.6K; Rating: N/A)

Carlos sighs. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” “Yeah.” “I’m so sorry.” It warrants no further reply, because at this point Carlos is crying along with him, resting his forehead against his temple and securing his hold even tighter. If he didn’t feel so numb, TK would reciprocate somehow. But this day has been simultaneously a blur and the sharpest image, burned red-hot in his brain. He could relive every single moment in perfect accuracy, he swears. __ An introspective episode coda sometime after the events of 3.07 and 3.08.

◆ No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. by @tkstrrand (4 fic series, Total Words: 13.1K; Rating: G)

TK tries to balance moments of joy with grief/guilt following the months after his mother's passing.

◆ sometimes grief is an open wound - it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 663; Rating: M; TW: Self-harm, Suicidal Thoughts)

His doctor puts him back on his antidepressants and he takes them without complaint, even when sometimes they feel like they’re doing more harm than good. The side effects leave him nauseous for a week, his already unpredictable sleep schedule fucked up beyond repair, but TK dutifully swallows them down every morning, because this means that he’s trying, right? It means that… It means something. It has to.

◆ wrap me up, enfold me by @strandnreyes (Words: 2.3K; Rating: G)

“She’s dead.” Those are the last words he has spoken in at least ten minutes. Now as Carlos sits beside TK on the couch, he isn’t sure what to do. His boyfriend is silent and unmoving, almost hauntingly so, and there’s this vacant look in his eyes that makes him look so unlike himself that it jars Carlos.

◆ Before...And After by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 256; Rating: G)

TK takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t remember much about last night, except that he was catatonic after the call, then dissolved an hour later into a sobbing, hyperventilating mess. The only reason he didn’t shake apart was because Carlos had held him.

◆ wrapped in a cloak of misery by @pendragonsandbuckleys (Words: 1.1K; Rating: G)

The phone clattered to the ground only seconds before TK’s knees buckled from underneath him. - a 3.07 coda.

◆ silent answers by @blueink3 (Words: 577; Rating: T)

It’s Paul who notices first because of course he does. “She’s dead.” Who clocks the fact that something has gone horrifyingly, catastrophically wrong. “She’s dead.” “Carlos?” Not ‘hey, man’ or ‘you good?’ Not the casual, easy tone Carlos has come to appreciate ever since that night at the club. It’s diffused more than one high pressure situation, but this -  Nothing can fix this. A coda to 3x07.

[niamiya]

When you're all alone, I will reach for you.

Synopsis: You got ghosted by someone to which you didn't handle well, and now your roommate takes care of you 👍

Genre: fluffy fluff, comfort, a little angst??

A/n: TBH, I wrote this cause I actually did get ghosted by my crush recently (this might be me coping), so yeah 🤗 but hey, real-life experience makes the writing more realistic mweheheh (except i dont actually have a kaveh 😔) I like to write stuff based on my experiences and i love mah boy kaveh, anyways first post and sorry for any grammatical errors english isn't my first language!! Enjoy reading <33

Your crush had recently ghosted you, leaving you confused and depressed causing you to not want to leave your bed a rot there to the point your roommate, Kaveh, got worried. Whenever he returned from his work, he would usually catch you on the couch watching TV, but it had been weeks since he last saw you other than inside your room to the point that it felt like the place was filled with melancholy without yout presence, so he decided to check up on you.

"Hey, just checking up. Is everything alright? You haven't gone outside your room for a while now, can't help but be worried." Kaveh knocked on the door. The light from the living room shining past the slightly opened door to your pitch black room "I may not know what you're going through, but is there anything I can do to help?" He offered.

You jumped from the fact that kaveh had suddenly turned up to your room. You didn't think he'd be back this early since usually he would come back late due to him being an architect with possibly loads of projects, but even so, you covered yourself under the sheets not wanting him to look at you at this state which he did not take as an answer, he approached you and sat at the edge of the bed.

"Look, I won't force you to tell me what happened, but this is getting ridiculous it has been weeks. Could you at least let me take care of you? I can't see you in such a state," kaveh murmured. You can tell from the hint of his voice that he seemed like he genuinely cared about your well being, he had always been like that, caring about others more than himself, so much that sometimes you had to scold him about people taking advantage of his kindness.

But this time, it was different. It was you now who needed scolding for letting yourself rot in your room, skipping meals, ignoring and locking yourself from everyone over some person who broke your heart. This was the first time kaveh had to take care of you. He never saw you in such a vulnerable state (well maybe because you prefer to hide it) or it would always be the other way around because Kaveh would always put others first before himself which can sometimes not place a positive impact for his own good.

After a moment of silence, you realize he isn't leaving until you give him an answer, you slowly got up and let the blanket fall, revealing your puffy eyes and wet cheeks from the tears, pillow stained and crumpled tissues everywhere, your skin pale everything about you right now was so not you, you let out a hiccup and covered your face with your hands due to embarrassment, Kaveh gently rubbed your back making you feel more comforted as you sobbed more "I'm stupid, kaveh.. I wish I never wasted my time," you cried out to him.

He was listening to you tentatively, still rubbing your back while your words almost made no sense due to your cries and hiccups he was still listening, understanding your state, and trying his best to comfort you "Hey now, don't say that okay? You're not stupid at all. In fact, I think you did amazing. I've seen you giving all your efforts, and he just failed to see it, and it's not your fault," he admitted, truth to be told, he would always be the first person to hear what you have to say about your crush all the time even if it was a slight interaction, He had seen lengths you'd go through just to make your crush happy.

He removed your hands that were covering your face. Your vision was blurry due to your tears, but you could still see his figure wiping your tears with his thumb. "There there, you'll be okay. Trust me, I won't let you ruin yourself just cause one person broke your heart." he continued comforting you through it all to which you sobbed a bit. You thought that you'd have to go through this alone, but seeing your roommate now by your side gave you hope.

"I may not have much experience with this.. love thing, but I do know that not all people in this world are the same. You will meet someone who will notice all your efforts, so don't cry, okay?" Cheered kaveh, trying to find all the right words to say, all his words comforted your heart which was once shattered you couldn't help but pull him for a hug and let a few happy tears "thanks kaveh... for being here, I know you also have your fair share of problems to deal with, but you had always been so caring, " you whispered, with your hands around his shoulder.

"I'd do anything to see your 'too much energy' side again. In fact, I miss it, seeing you tell your day every time after I come back from work, so seeing you lock yourself away from everyone was devastating, " he whispered near your ear "you also have always been there for me when I always rant about my work, and I want to be there for you" he rubbed your back comfortingly confessing sweet nothings.

He slowly pulled away from the hug. "Come on now, you hadn't eaten any decent meal, right? How about I cook us your favourite meal for dinner?" He offered with a genuine smile. At that moment, you felt your heart skip a beat. You eventually nodded slowly. Your stomach had been rumbling all day as he gently took your hand, and both of you headed to the kitchen.

The light was almost blinding due to you being cooped up in your dark room for weeks, but the atmosphere felt comforting. The air felt fresher than the suffocating room. As you reached the kitchen, you sat down on one of the chairs as Kaveh prepared all the ingredients to cook your favourite meal. It's just a simple activity, really, but seeing your roommate so dedicated to cheer you up made you feel warm inside, he was smiling genuinely everytime he made eye contact with you whilst he was cooking the food.

Only then had you realized you were falling for your roommate.

______________________________________________

[thunderhel]

Fratt Week 2024

Day 1 - Blood Word Count: 2089. Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Not quite actually Fratt yet, More Frank just making some observations.

Frank, for all his flaws, was 100% human. There was no mutation, no alien DNA or secret government experiment gone wrong. Just normal government black ops shit that went sideways and a stupid jarhead they’d tried to make a patsy. Just a human man with a short fuse and the memory of his daughter’s limp weight in his hands and nothing left to lose. Red was a different story.

Day 2 - Bar Word Count: 3174. As sexual as you can possibly get while everyone is still clothed and pretending it's not sexual.

Red’s tongue rolled out the tiniest bit to push against his bottom lip before he pulled it back in, and Frank didn't know if he'd pushed his boot forward or if Red had slid his knees further apart, but either way they were now just slightly touching and Red said - “You think about me on my knees and begging a lot, Frank?”

Day 3 - Trust Word Count: 4182. Maggie Grace.

Frank narrowed his eyes as Red approached. “Can I ask you something?” Red hesitated, but there was no surprise. He knew the question was coming. His nod was almost imperceivable, but Frank would have continued without it anyway. “How long have you been sleeping with a nun?”

Day 4 - Spirit Word Count: 6041. Frank Castle & Leo Lieberman, Leo Lieberman & Matt Murdock, Leo Lieberman, Halloween.

Leo's got a Halloween party to attend, but she's not really happy with the mask she made for her costume. Luckily, Frank knows a guy who's willing to trade.

Day 5 - Pray Word Count: 3857. Accidental Drug Use, rambling internal monologues about sexual situations.

Frank might be drugged halfway out of his mind, but he can still recognize the basics of the prayer Red keeps saying. He's pretty sure he's not dying. A little stupid maybe, but not anywhere near death. Doesn't really make sense then, why Red keeps saying a prayer for strength.

Day 6 - Bag Word Count: 11161. Rated E. Canon typical violence and gore and death by shotgun to the face, Non-Penetrative Sex, Dirty Talk, Clothed Sex, over stimulation, Hand Jobs, ignoring our feelings like men while we get off in an abandoned building.

Red’s hands were firm in their hold of his face, a fact Frank didn’t really process until Red clamped his palms down, forcing their mouths apart by a few inches. Frank ran his tongue along his own lip, more out of breath now than he had been at the scene of his massacre, and waited for the yelling to continue. Waited for Red to deck him square in the jaw - he wouldn’t stop him if he tried. He waited for a judgment that didn’t come. “Who’d you think was in the bag?” Red asked, the words spoken almost directly into Frank’s mouth.

______

WOOO and I'm done! Only, what, three and half weeks after Fratt Week officially ended? It's Fratt month now, whatever. There is technically a day 7 prompt, which was a free day, but since I have gone so far past the deadline I think it's time to call it. But a huge thank you to the moderators of Fratt Week for putting this together and giving me an excuse to write for the first time in a while, and for not saying anything as I just keep posting past the end date. Also another huge thank you to everyone who has left comments or kudos on all of these fics. You're all so beautiful and I love you and you make me want to write more, so thank you thank you thank you.

I still feel this series was a little rough, but I've been out of practice and over all I'm pretty happy with it! If you have found any mistakes or think of any tags I should add, feel free to let me know.

[madwomansapologist]

hello everything is fine ?,

I saw your requests are open could you make an imagine with morpheus x reader where s/o want a baby "I want a baby, Morpheu." you whisper: "Your baby if you want it".

wandering to Her (or: expending the family with morpheus)

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Morpheus | AO3

synopsis: You fear death. I mean, you love Death, but you fear dying. But after spendind a day with her, seeing her taking those who fallen and talking to those who were just born, you understood more about life than you could ever imagine. You understood why you love to dream, and then you realized something that you have never thought about before. You understood that you wanted immortality. The true one. [1K]

warnings: talking about death with Death. i've cried writing this so be aware.

ps: thanks for your request! i don't really know if he can have kids, didn't read the comics yet, so this is all speculation. it was supposed to be a headcanons, but i got emotional. i'm warning everyone: i'm one neil gaiman's post away from rewatching the whole show. hope you enjoy it!

It all start with Death. As usual.

With her, time didn't seem to work. It always went by too fast, while at the same time everything took too long to happen. She has this singular orbit. A gravity of her own.

Death is so different from what you expected. She's kind. She's patient. She's loving. She cares. Death isn't fighting to conquer more souls or anything you could've imagine she would want. She's not fighting, because they'll eventually be hers. It's easy to be aware of your own mortality when she's around.

And maybe that's why you invited yourself to spend a day with Death. You wanted to see how it was that last moment. What Death said, if she said anything at all. How people reacted. You were curious. What is death if not time acting on beings? It was a morbid curiosity, but a valid one.

"You already knew I talked to humans when they're born," Death caresses the baby's little fingers. So tiny, so soft, so singular. A being that don't know pain, wickedness, suffering. A being that need to be protected. "I've told you."

You approached the crib. Your hand pushed against the wood, swaying slightly. It was instinctual. You rocked him without even realizing it. You sniffled. "You remember what you said to me?"

At moments like this you remember how old she is. No matter how young she looks, no matter how good she is to talk to, Death is older than you will ever be able to comprehend. And she will be the last of her siblings to leave. Endless, until she's no more.

"After I breath live into you," Death whispered to not awake the babies on the maternity. If your time with Morpheys taugh you something it's that time isn't that different for the Endless. They feel it just like a human would. But you knew Death would remember. You really did. "I've told you to not fear me. I've told you to embrace me. I've told you, my dear friend, that life's destiny is death. And I warned that if you wanted to live, you would need to be willing to die. That every step you made takes you closer to me. That every book you read, every tear you cry, every friend you lost, every car you scratch, every password you forgot: you're making your way to me."

And so you realized why Dream and Death are so close. Dying is terrifying. Ceasing to exist one day without really understanding the reason for it. But to dream... The will to accomplish the things we dream of is greater than the fear of the end. It is Dream that makes us accept Death. And suddenly it's no longer about ceasing to exist one frightening day, but about existing until a fateful one.

Someone, in a past so far away that you can't even understand, decided that it was worth going on. Someone decided that a long hug was worth more than a downpour. Someone decided that talking to a lover was worth more than an earthquake. Someone decided that every disease, every evil, every pain, every tomb, every fear, every fate: everything was worth less when compared to what life has to offer.

Because someone made that choice, and then it's child, and it's child, and it's child, your grandma was born. And because she made the same decision, because she made the choice of dealing with the tumultuous in hope of something better, your mom war born. And because she made the same decision all the ancestors you remember and all the ancestors you can't even imagine did, you were born.

And isn't it what you're doing since the beginning? Choosing the hope of something better instead of the certainty of the end? Since you were eight you knew everyone dies. It took you more time to understand that it was really true. And then, since that moment, you knew what it was to be human: to be always sad because you're always aware of the end, but to choose to ignore this feeling so you can go on.

The baby sighed. He slept. He looked happy. He looked peaceful. He looked ready to be taken care of, loved and embraced. Ready to see his parents, his grandparents, his uncles. Ready to understand that he has a body, that he has a mind, and that the two are not so different from what it seems. Ready to walk, cry, love, lose, freak out, dance, sing, live. He looked ready. And so you understood that you were ready too.

"Go," Death took your hands into hers and kissed your knuckles. "Be brave."

You don't know how she knew, but you felt welcomed. You felt seen and understood. So you let Death finish her job, and went back to his realm.

To the realm of dreams and nightmares. The realm of joys and sorrows. Of fears and desires. The realm that once glowed and then decayed with the passing of its lord. For the realm that survived, proving once again that it would always survive.

You found him in the library. It must be a good day. A day without great tasks. You approached trying not to make any noise. Before you could startle him, Morpheus scared you.

"You little shit," you carressed your chest. "You want to kill me?"

Morpheus chuckled. When his velvet voice came to your ears, the fear had already dissipated. "Accept it," his tone was mischievous, but Morpheus' hold you so gently. He stroked your skin. "You lost the ability to surprise me."

You closed your eyes when he kissed your forehead, leaning towards him. Morpheus is so warm. His voice is so tender. His love is so palpable. "I want a baby, Morpheus."

"I take it back," Morpheus kissed your forehead again. He didn't pull his lips away. When Morpheus opened them again, it was as if he spoke with your mind. "As you wish."

And that, the choice to ignore certainty and dream with possibilities, is true immortality.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[antifictionsfiction]

Worth the Free Admission - Part 6/8

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / AO3

Fandom: Children’s Theater Critic with Alfred Molina

Pairing: Arthur H. Cartwright x gn!reader

Rating: T

Chapter summary: A late night phone call with Arthur opens up a new path for your relationship while bringing new doubts to the surface.

Warnings/tags: age difference, insecurity, slow burn, personal growth, dialogue heavy

Chapter word count: 2166

A/N: I've been extending this story more and more because I just couldn't fit Cartwright's redemption arc in only 5 chapters, sorry. 8 chapters will hopefully be the final number, and I hope you'll enjoy this shorter but important addition to the story as well as the final two chapters coming soon!

I never had an official tag list, but if you’d like to be tagged in the new chapters, drop a comment under this post 😊

Recycling a gif from my dear @scorsesedepalmafan. Thank you so much for beta reading and always supporting me 💙

Also a big thank you to @overlookedfile and @sgt-petter for your kind comments on AO3 <3

@francis-ford-kofola I spontaneously posted this before I had a chance to share it with you, I hope you enjoy! ✨

You had promised Arthur you would give him time to arrange his thoughts and you were going to honor it. When you had made the promise though, you clearly hadn’t prepared yourself for how excruciating it would feel, the lead up to Arthur arriving at the conclusion that he was ready to talk at last. 

It had been more than two weeks now, which also meant two weeks until the performance. On top of that, the end of the school year was approaching too, and you found yourself caught in a never ending string of meetings with your colleagues and your students’ parents, and working your ass off to ensure that every child in your classroom would get a fair chance at improving their grades. With so much on your plate your mind should’ve been occupied enough not to leave much space for Arthur to take up in there. But the reality couldn't have been more different: despite everything on your to-do list, every day seemed to drag. Without getting any hints that Arthur was ready for anything, you felt like the two weeks had been stretched to a full month or more. 

Sure, he wouldn’t push you away when you’d touch his arm or sit closer to him than you’d dared before, your conversations flowed just as naturally as prior to the kiss, and you even went out for dinner after one rehearsal. But no matter how comfortable you were with each other, the sheepish avoidance was still there, hiding in plain sight, right behind Arthur’s gaze that had gotten warmer, softer. You had caught him looking at you with the strangest expression in his face a few times, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to ask you something. Ask, no plead with you to take the burden of the decision off his shoulders. You both knew that would be a dead-end though. You had done all that you could, taken risks and bared your emotions, and now it was inevitably his turn. 

You were sitting on the couch by the window of your cramped but cozy living room, revising a pile (that was fortunately getting smaller) of short essays on the topic of “inspiration”. It was a Friday evening and you technically didn’t need to keep working, but you were desperate to enjoy a weekend that was truly free and relaxing, and so you had made a deal with yourself to finish all your additional work in time to keep it off your mind for the following two days. 

You let out a laugh as you read one of the kids’ description of how inspired she was by sharks because they were a misunderstood species that still kept fighting. She has a point, you thought, finding the unique take refreshing. Putting the stack of papers aside to take a brief break, you reached for a sturdy mug of spicy chai and took a long sip. It was just warm enough to comfort you, but not too hot. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to expel all the anxiety-inducing thoughts from your mind, if only for a few seconds. 

Your little moment of meditation was soon disturbed by the vibration of your phone, the sudden buzzing startling you and completely undoing whatever progress you had just made in terms of calming yourself down. You were ready to ignore the call unless it was something completely necessary, but as you were about to silence the device, you noticed the caller’s name on the screen. Arthur. 

“Hello?” he breathed out along with your name as soon as you picked up, sounding both relieved and questioning. 

“Hey Arthur, did you need anything? Something to do with the costumes?” you asked, straight to the point since you knew how these evening calls usually went. There was a pause on the other end, before Arthur cleared his throat and promptly apologized for it. 

“No, no,” another pause, perhaps even longer than the previous one, “I just wanted to talk to you,” he said, and then as if he was afraid of your reaction, quickly added: “If it’s not a bad time. I wouldn’t want to disturb your Friday night.”

“I was still working, I really don’t mind being disturbed right now, believe me.” You gripped your mug tighter, trying to steady your heart rate that was now racing with anxious anticipation. 

“You should rest. Give me more things to do if you need to. The last thing I want is to see you constantly overworked.” The apparent worry and care in his tone was spreading warmth through your entire being far more than the spicy chai ever could. 

“I appreciate it, but I’m almost done, thank God. I’ve decided to take the weekend off, you know? So I’ll be all recharged, you’ll barely recognize me next week,” you joked, knowing all too well that one weekend wouldn’t even begin to replenish the energy deficit you were currently battling. Arthur let out a soft laugh.

“That’s good.” Another silent moment simmered between the two of you. You thought you could hear Arthur taking some deep breaths, but then you ruled the sound as some white noise amplified by the silence. Then, an actual, unmistakable draw of breath finally cut through the void between the two ends of the line.

“I want to apologize.” 

“Apologize for what, Arthur?”

“For keeping you waiting. I know not saying anything… it hurt you, I could see it, but I felt too awkward, too- too embarrassed with myself to address it. How immature of me, I know.” You could tell the words weren’t coming easily to him, but he pushed through.

“What you did, I couldn’t believe it. I kept trying to rationalize it as some kind of a mistake, a lapse of judgment. I needed some time to think, but then I began to worry, what if my silence made you lose interest? A part of me even wished you had lost it. Maybe you have, maybe I’m just making a fool of myself right now, but I-” 

You could almost see him fidgeting with his glasses, posture stiff and eyes wide. 

“How do you feel about Noël Coward?”

The sudden change in tone and topic caught you off guard, leaving you with no space to reply to his apology, or his doubts. 

“Uh, the playwright?”

“Yes! You know your 20th century theatre,” his tone audibly brightened as he slipped back into a familiar topic. You weren’t about to let him lose the thread though.

“Arthur, what is this about? Can we go back to-”

He promptly cut you off, his words rushing out as though if he didn’t speak now, he never would. Maybe that truly was the case. 

“A marvellous production of one of his plays has just opened in New York City, off-Broadway; would you like to come see it with me tomorrow?” he asked and then, immediately added: “Unless you’re too tired of course. Or you’ve changed your mind. Or-”

Now it was your turn to interrupt him. You swore  if you had to hear one more sentence influenced by his crippling insecurity, you were going to lose it. There was no way in heaven or hell you were going to let him call off the date before you even had the chance to enthusiastically agree to it. 

“Arthur,” you said loud enough to effectively shut him up, your teacher voice coming out just a little bit. You quickly checked yourself, realizing that particular tone could send Arthur even deeper into the pit of insecurity and intimidation he was currently trying to scramble out of. 

“Arthur,” you repeated, softer this time, “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to tell me if you want to give this a shot or not. Do you really think I’d bail now that I know for sure I’m not the only one who wants this?”

“No, you don’t strike me as someone who would.” 

“I’m not. I really, really like you, Arthur. And I’d love to go to see a play with you tomorrow,” you smiled, wishing you were talking to him face to face so that you could see him flush and fiddle with his glasses. 

“I really like you too,” he said with an unsteady exhale, “Too much in fact. You’ve made me remember things about myself that I haven’t been allowing myself to appreciate for years. And how out of touch I’ve been. I’m not young anymore and it hurts to break out of all the lies you’ve learned to accept about yourself when you’ve been living with them for too long. That’s why I couldn’t just… jump into things head first. I still have a lot to relearn about myself, but I think- I believe I’m ready to give this a try now. Thank you for waiting for me.” 

“I’m glad I’ve waited long enough to see the real Arthur. To see past Arthur H. Cartwright, the children’s theatre critic, I mean.”

Arthur laughed. It was refreshing to hear him relax a bit even in a situation that was clearly difficult for him. 

“Yes, I’m afraid you might’ve helped put the Cartwright brand out of business.” 

“Oh come on, you can still review theatre without ruining kids’ self esteem.”

“You’re right of course, I haven’t been nearly as harsh in most of my latest reviews,” he paused, thinking, “But the more I’ve reflected on it, the more I’ve been feeling like I’ve exhausted this particular career path.”

“Really?” You understood his reasoning, not wanting to rely on his infamous reputation and instead exploring things he’d wanted to do since he was young. However, you were surprised by how fast he has come to the realization that there still could be so much more for him out there, even at his age. Once again, you felt proud of him. He was right, he still had a long way to go, but the amount of self-reflection that had to go into the decision to leave a stable, somewhat prestigious career after decades, wasn’t something to take for granted. 

“I’m afraid so. But I didn’t call you to discuss my existential crisis with you, not when you probably still have dozens of essays to read through.” There it was again, the self consciousness, or guilt in his voice, as if he was embarrassed for having talked about himself for what he perceived as too long. 

“I do, but I feel like this conversation was more important than possibly having to sacrifice a few hours of sleep to finish my work,” you said, the corners of your lips lifting slightly in a reassuring smile that you hoped he could at least hear through the phone. 

“I suppose you’re right, even if I hate the thought of you losing sleep, especially right before a trip to New York. I’ll drive of course.”

“I appreciate that, Arthur.” The thought of him worrying about your sleep schedule warmed your heart, it had been too long since anyone gave your well-being a priority. 

“Of course. Shall I pick you up at two in the afternoon?” 

“Can you make it twelve? I still owe you a lunch from last week, remember?” 

“Oh? Well, how could I say no to that?”

After you said your goodnights, you indeed ended up losing sleep. Not over your work, which you were done with in under a couple hours, but due to the rush of adrenaline that the prospect of an actual, confirmed date with Arthur. 

Just hours from now you were going to face him knowing he wants you too; not just that, that he wants you enough to fight his way through a jungle of tangled up doubts and fears. Just months ago you would have felt embarrassed to even imagine being seen in public with the Drama teacher’s worst nightmare. Now, you were still a little terrified of potentially running into someone who hadn’t had the most agreeable experience with Arthur, yes. But you knew you would hold his hand proudly and defend the man he had become, as long as he was willing to hold himself accountable for his shortcomings in front of someone who wasn’t you. After all, this relationship was never going to feel straightforward and easy, but if you were one to go for ‘easy’, you would’ve never invited him to your rehearsals in the first place. And something was telling you, if this was ever going to work out, it would be with a man who was able and willing to dismantle his entire life philosophy after someone had confronted his defence mechanisms. 

You had always been bold in that way, but so was he, as it seemed. If he was able to keep it up instead of retracting back into his shell, only time would tell. But you weren’t about to just stop believing in him like he had stopped believing in himself a long time ago.

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

To Dance With Death | JHS

Pairing: Grim Reaper! Hoseok x Messenger! Fem! Reader

Summary: To live. To die. And option Hoseok never had. For he only walked this Earth with a purpose given by fate. But when he met someone like him, for the first time he felt his heart beat. Even when you were to die by his kiss. A kiss of poison and bliss.

Warnings: angst, fluff, love at first sight, dancing under the rain, talks of life and death, open ending?, poetical writing, mentions of what happens after dying though it doesn't conclude on a certain theory, character death, feelings of wanting and yearning for someone/something, heavy themes involved, (let me know if I missed anything!)

A/N: I've been wanting to write for sweet Hobi for a long time and I finally found some inspiration to write this, I really hope you'll like this short story as I'm currently working on my other projects to post here! Let me know what you think in the comments!

Word Count: 2.04k words

Life was in different shades of grey. Some were lighter and others were darker but it was always grey. The colour of death. Of nothingness. Of emptiness. Of everything that once touched this Earth. 

He walked among the night. A man without shadow. A man with many names. A man dressed in black. To some, he was the devil; to others he was salvation. He was a curse but he was also a blessing. He was cruel yet he was also merciful. For he took the lives of the mortals. He took them to allow them to cross the other side. He took them from the land of the living, he took them to complete the natural cycle. 

He had seen many live and wither away, like a flower during winter days. He had witnessed wars, love stories and heartbreak. Yet he couldn’t understand it. Jung Hoseok, a man known in different ways, with many names in many places couldn’t understand the core of human existence. 

Emotions.

For he was no human and neither was he a paranormal being. He simply existed; watched. Hoseok had lived through centuries and generations. Always as a spectator. Not meant to intervene in mortal’s affairs. 

Rain was falling over Seoul yet he wasn’t drenched in the cold liquid pouring from the dark skies. His feet carried him through the busy streets yet no-one saw him. No-one was meant to either way. Everyone was entertained by their thoughts or cellphones, mundane ideas swarmed in their heads. No-one noticed him, not while living like this. Not while being this. 

Grim reaper. 

That was one of his many names. Some people feared him while others saw him as an old acquaintance. His duty for the night was almost done for he was feeling the pull once more. That feeling that led him to the unfortunate souls of this world. Almost like an instinct. An intuition that allowed him to walk among the land of the living with a purpose. 

Cold air blew his soft locks slightly, yet he was unable to distinguish that freezing sensation. Life was unfair. Perhaps there existed no such thing as “fairness” but that feeling had been living with himself for some time now. It could have been days or maybe years, time didn’t exist for Hoseok. He simply existed with a purpose. No other thing mattered to him than to fulfil his job.

He arrived at a small plaza in a cute little park where the rain droplets reflected through the blurry street lights. He sighed, seeing a woman dressed in a grey dress standing alone, below one of the street lights, rain falling upon her. 

Hoseok approached her, his steps graceful; delicate even. As if he were floating among the clouds. The moment his eyes landed on her, his breath hitched in his throat. Not believing who the person in front of him was. Or rather, the being with translucent beauty. 

“You’ve come at last.”

You spoke, not looking at him. You felt his presence, just like any other misfortunes in this world throughout all your existence. 

“Your soul is to be reaped tonight.”

You turned around, eyes meeting with the ones of the tall man before you. You weren’t drenched in rain like a normal mortal. You were able to see Hoseok and feel his freezing presence. You were not a being of this world. Not a mortal. But a creature of purpose, just like him. 

“I have no soul in my body.”

“I know.”

A moment of silence passed between you both, only the sound of rain hitting the ground could be heard, as if drowning their thoughts, his mind in sorrowful consequences.

“I have never seen one of your kind.”

You smiled softly up at him, turning your back to him to watch across the park, he stood next to you. Taking in your presence. A lovely being that also paraded this world in silence. Never seen, never heard. Only when needed were you revealed to the blind mortal eyes. 

A Messenger.

“Not many have.”

He took in the melancholy in your words, feeling the emptiness in your words drown his heart. Even when it didn’t beat inside him.

“May I know the name of my reaper?”

 He looked down at you, taking in your beauty. Messengers were known for their beauty among the Invisible Walkers in this world. His eyes couldn’t help but wander to the colour of your eyes or the curve of your lips. Your beautiful skin illuminated under the soft light reflected in the rain. Your hair, ever so dry and soft to the eye. You, a Messenger with such beauty and never seen. Always silent. Always unseen. 

“Jung Hoseok.”

You smiled at the sound of his name. A last memory before you were to cease existing. 

“I’m (y/n). Just (y/n).”

A soft breeze whistled against his honey skin. Eyes darting across the park. His heart constricted in his chest.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his bigger hand engulf your own. His touch, although it would normally freeze skin, it warmed your insides. You looked at him, meeting his dark eyes. 

“You have one wish at the palm of your hand that I can grant you. Fate’s last gift to you.”

His voice was deep, carrying all the weight of the world. All the souls of the mortals he had reaped before spoke those words with him in an afterglow of echoing songs. 

“Dance with me.”

Hoseok tilted his head. Absolutely mesmerised by your beauty, your existence. 

“What an odd request.”

You smiled up at him, eyes reflecting the tears of mourning over your destiny. 

“I have seen the mortals do it. They dance when they are happy, when they celebrate something.”

His other hand rested on your waist, eyes never leaving your own as he murmured his next words. Only yours to be heard. 

“And what are you celebrating? Why are you so reluctant at the time of your demise?”

A moment of silence passed, your hands against his body. One in his hold and the other on his shoulder. 

“I have fulfilled my mission. I have no more messages to deliver. I have completed my purpose on this Earth and I think that’s beautiful.”

Hoseok lifted an eyebrow, slowly swaying with you in his arms. A silent dance among the humans. A soft bond between the two Invisible Walkers who had only met once but it felt like they have spent a lifetime together. 

“You think death is beautiful?”

You chuckled, twirling around before returning to your original position. 

“I think life is beautiful. Death is a culmination of it. Death is a part of life.”

The sound of rain was the only thing that could be heard as you both swayed under the dark sky. 

“I have waited for this day to come for a long time. Thank you for granting me my last wish, Hoseok. If I am to be reborn, may this be my first memory. And if this is the end of my whole existence, may I live in your memories forever.”

He smiled down at you, swaying softly to the sound of rain. He felt his heart pounding in his chest for the very first time, butterflies swarmed in his stomach and he couldn’t fight the heart-shaped smile on his lips.

He felt a pull towards you, to be close to you. As if he had loved you for centuries while only meeting you a couple of minutes ago.

Hoseok wished in that exact moment, while he had you in his arms as the both of you swayed elegantly, to have more time with you rather than this small and sad interaction. He wanted to get to know you and listen to the stories you kept hidden in your heart that no-one else has ever heard before.

He wanted to experience what it'd be to live. He envied the mortals that very second for their simplicity in living, in loving and in dying. He envied mortality for he was a being with no time so his death and his existence were never marked in the universe.

"Such beauty. Such secrets."

He murmured, resting his chin over your head as the time he had with you, the first Messenger he has ever come across in his eternal life, was coming to an end.

"Thank you for dancing with me tonight."

You said while resting your head against his chest. Hoseok looked down at you, his hands left your waist to rest on your cheeks, marvelling at the warm skin that his touch didn't kill. Your hands were in his wrists as you gazed into his eyes, allowing yourself to experience the moment. Like the humans you had seen doing before. You, for the first time in your life, lived.

You felt a strong pull towards him as if you were oil and he was your fire. A flame burst between you two. A flame that was going to extinguish with the rain of death.

"It's time. Are you ready?"

His murmured words reached your ears, making a shudder travel up your spine. You couldn’t come up with any word to say, leaving you to answer with a subtle nod. 

“I have a last message for you.”

Hoseok stopped leading the soft dance you both had been tangled in, his eyes pierced yours allowing you to deliver your last message on this earth before your very own death. 

“Do not forget how beautiful it is to live. Cherish your immortality and I request you to not forget this humble messenger who would like to know life by your side.”

“I could never forget you, (y/n). The most beautiful Messenger that ever walked this cursed land. You are immortal in my memories.”

You smiled, feeling tears at the corner of your eyes. For he has granted you the forbidden fruit that could never be yours. To live for eternity. Even in his mind. 

Hoseok leaned towards you, a tear escaped the corner of your eye when his lips met yours. It was delicate, calculated. A soft kiss that spoke centuries of experience. Centuries of history. Your eyes closed and you kissed him back, feeling your body get lighter in his embrace before darkness consumed you. Hoseok watched you disappear before him. No soul resided in your body, there was no chance for you to ever enter The Parabellum, that place where matter nor time existed. The place that allowed the mortal souls to reach their final destination. What was further The Parabellum was beyond his knowledge but he knew, you simply ceased to exist. 

Invisible Walkers did not have a soul. They weren’t judged like the humans, they weren’t sentenced to whatever punishment existed for the mortal souls. You all just stopped walking the land of the living. 

Hoseok witnessed how you turned to a soft silver dust that floated above the skies, leaving him alone in the Earth he had walked for centuries on end. He sighed, feeling his heart constrict within him. 

“Such beauty, such secrets. Lost to the universe, lost to this world.”

His words got carried by the wind and the rain that never stopped falling. As if the skies were mourning your death. Remembering your existence. 

Hoseok left that place in silence, like always. Realising that taking your life, was the only one that left remorse in his mind. He could still feel how your hand had felt in his, how your body was pressed against his own and the feeling of your lips still lingered over his very own. 

A sudden melancholy took hold of his heart, silently mourning you. Is this what humans feel when they lose someone they love? He asked himself a question that remained without an answer for he couldn’t know. 

He didn’t love you yet he couldn’t deny he was absolutely mesmerised by you. A Messenger of a fallen world who danced with death until her last breath.

Life was in different shades of grey. Some were lighter and others were darker but it was always grey. The colour of death. Of nothingness. Of emptiness. Of everything that once touched this Earth. 

Nov/05/2023

~Masterlist

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

#I think there are probably a lot of people who view those videos #and think it tells them about who they were as teenagers #not who they are now //

I always find the comment sections of these new Larry tiktoks interesting for this reason in particular, and what I've seen would seem to support this point you make. Most of the comments I see, and the most liked comments, come from this perspective - that they did have some kind of relationship when they were younger but that it's in the past.

What's really curious to me is that I also see a lot of these people take it a step further, and express some regret or frustration or blame that "larries" ruined their relationship (and no real entertainment of the idea they have any kind of relationship now). I think it's a very plausible read of what we know (and one I'm sympathetic to) that the public attention larries brought to Harry and Louis' (presumed real romantic but hidden) relationship made their lives and relationship more difficult. But I also think it's a fascinating definitional end-run to say that you believe Harry and Louis were in a secret romantic relationship, but you're not a larrie, and to feel that whatever actions larries might have taken to bring attention to that relationship in the past were harmful to the boys, but that posting/liking/commenting on a Larry tiktok in 2024 is not harmful in that same way. I think there are a ton of valid criticisms of the actions and behaviors of certain larries, but I do wonder what it is that even now leads people to so effectively contort the definition into something other to be scapegoated.

I think that's more a question of fan psychology than anything actually related to Harry or Louis, but it does strike me that while it makes maintaining their current narrative (nothing ever happened between them, Louis is straight) more difficult, it actually might make some narratives they might want to choose going forward easier (they are not straight, something happened in the past but it's over). Still difficult and complicated, but it's generally easier to row with the current than against it.

I just sent you an anon about the the larry tiktoks and fan psychology, and realized I should have connected (and was probably subconsciously thinking about) your point about fans blaming management exclusively for "locking" the boys in hotel rooms, without examining their own complicity in what made going out so unsafe for them. A lot of "well, i'm certainly not the problem!" going around.

******* That's such an interesting point anon - thanks for sending your thoughts.

I think on one hand it is very understandable. I remember when I joined the fandom in 2015, I would occasionally wonder about the ethics of all of it. And one easy answer (which I sometimes found comforting) was to think a lot about what happened before I joined the fandom. I saw that it might be a problem to talk about this when they were teenagers - and drawing attention to what happened could have been outting. But they were older now - the dynamics had changed.

Looking back now - this seems absurd and disingenuous. Harry had just turned 20 - and when Louis talked about his birthday tabloids wrote 'fans think Louis said he was gay' and he trended for 24 hours.

Now I'm much more likely to take a slightly different approach. I will strongly defend questioning whether or not celebrities as queer as part of queer culture. But talking about it on social media? I don't know. There's a reason why I do it in the place where it's least likely to be amplified and judged.

**********

But I think the other part of the dynamic is one of the weirdest parts of the 'Larry Stylinson' phenomenon. Almost everyone involved in any discussion accepts that the two options are "Larries are invalid or Larries are right".

That dynamic is nonsense. Those are not the options. Those have never been the options. But the question of somehow the validity of talking about Louis and Harry is always at stake. In a way that is super specific to them and the way they are talked about.

It's interesting to me that now, with time, more options are emerging. And I do wonder how it'll change the dynamics both of fandom and also the way Louis and Harry are talked about. And in turn if that'll change what their options are.

I think you're right that what we're discussing is fandom psychology more than anything else. But fan psychology interacts with public discourse, which in turn Louis and Harry to navigate as they plan their careers.

[im-not-a-l0ser]

😂❓

- 🐦‍⬛

a funny or crack WIP snippet

So, uh. Here's the thing. I really don't write much comedy or crack. I don't write comedy because (as I've been told for the last 17 years of my life) I don't really think I'm that funny, and I try not to write crack because that's a pipeline to misrepresenting characters. The only one I might've had was Chapter One of Beanies, but y'know. That's already posted.

So, the only one I have isn't Hatchetfield, or even Starkid at all. It's Dear Evan Hansen. Kleinphy, to be specific. It's a 5+1, here are the first couple. I'll reblog with the other(❓) one momentarily.

Anyway, it is mildly nsfw, because that's the only way I know how to write crack apparently.

1

Most people knew that Jared could calm Connor down when he was angry, but a grand total of two people knew how, and that was Jared and Connor themselves. 

The first time, it was a massive shock. 

Third week of Junior Year, Connor was a bit up and arms at lunch. It wasn’t really his fault in all honesty, but he was the one that drew the crowd in, not that he meant to.

“I just can’t believe they even let guys like you into the school.” Connor scoffed.

“Me? You’re worried about me being in the school? You pay people to do your urine tests and you hit on every girl you see! Including teachers! And haven’t you been held back like seven times, aren’t you like legally allowed to drink now?” He was a super senior, but just the one year. Though, he drank enough that you’d hope it was legal. “But no, me, I’m the one that’s a risk to the school even though all I ever fucking do is mind my own business until someone gets into mine, you’re absolutely—”

“Hey, Murphy!” Someone suddenly yelled from the sidelines.

Even though other people were yelling both of their names, this person seemed to specifically get Connor’s attention. He was quickly approached by a short guy that only a handful of people in the crowd recognised. 

He simply cupped his hands around Connor’s ear and whispered something. Then he walked away. 

Connor’s body seemed to relax. He took a breath, pulled down his hoodie, and walked off. In a different direction than the kid, which was specifically interesting. It meant that he wasn’t trying anything, he just. Got him to stop somehow.

“Who was that kid?” The perpetrator asked.

“Jared something, I think,” Someone in the front row of the circle said. 

“What the fuck is his deal,” He laughed. Everyone else laughed too. 

Four rooms away, Jared was waiting for Connor to meet him in their designated place to be alone. Connor joined him not long after, where he was held until he didn’t need to be anymore. 

2

The next time, it was actually in public. Connor was at the grocery store with his mom— he did not want to be— and he was getting sick of the whole thing. 

“I swear, if you get another meat substitute and claim it tastes the same again, I will cut open myself and we can just eat that instead!” 

“Connor!” Cynthia exclaimed, “That was extremely uncalled for!” 

“Was it? I’m pretty sure I’m slowly dying because of the way you cook, what’s so wrong with speeding that process along then, huh?”

“Whoa, okay!” 

Someone new had entered the conversation. 

“Looks like someone needs to calm down!” He said, throwing his arm around Connor’s shoulder. Cynthia stared, confused, but her son didn’t look too shocked. More surprised that this person was here. 

He used his free hand to cover the side of his mouth and whispered into Connor’s ear. 

Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Connor’s face flushed ever so slightly. The guy pulled away. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” He said. He pat Connor’s shoulder before pulling away. 

“Oh, you fucking asshole,” Connor accused as he walked off, but it didn’t sound nearly as angry. More annoyed. 

“Who was that? Did you know him?” Cynthia asked. Connor crossed his arms. 

“Some asshole from school,” He grumbled. 

On Monday, Connor went straight to their closet, finding Jared on his knees, just as promised.