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ur-sick-and-married · 17 hours ago

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CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • PAIGE BUECKERS

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

🎵: Do I Wanna Know? covered by Hozier

TW: suggestive, angst, reader is an alcoholic, usage of Y/N, mentions of nausea and vomiting

SUMMARY: you get drunk to avoid running back to your ex…but tonight it brought you right to her.

A/N: I went to a UConn game the other day!

How many times were you going to find yourself in this situation? You were strolling around the crowded house, searching for anyone that would have you. You were drunk again, like you were most nights.

You did this a lot now; get wasted and hookup with strangers. The alcohol allowed you to loosen up, finally find some peace, and the hookups kept you feeling useful and pleasured.

The two of those things also kept you from groveling at the knees of UConn’s best female guard.

You and Paige had been in a serious relationship. You loved that woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to you.

But you’d fucked up. Your love for booze had scared her off. She got sick of attending parties every weekend, sick of having to take away the bottle, sick of dragging you from parties, sick of pushing you off at home when your drunk self tried to start something, sick of nursing your nasty hangovers. She had told you to chill, promised you movie nights and dates instead of parties.

You never listened, so eventually she sat you down and, with a lot of difficulty, ended things. It had become too much for her. She needed to focus on school and basketball. It was her last year in college, after all. She wanted to make it count.

Without Paige, your need for alcohol only grew, which is how you found yourself in the middle of a frat party. Things had been usual, until someone screamed and everyone started fleeing. You knew what this meant; cops. You started running, too. If the police got you, you were screwed. Chugging drink after drink was fun, until the idea of getting caught came up.

You stumbled through the woods behind the house. This was where people typically ran, but you were alone. Maybe you were going the wrong way? You could see lights up ahead, so you went towards those. If there was civilization, you could find your way home. Once you made it through the trees, you found yourself in a campus that you quickly recognized…UConn.

Well, you thought, at least you knew your way around.

You started wandering, your phone in hand, waiting until you had good enough WiFi to get an Uber.

When you first heard the sound, you thought you were imagining it. Surely it was just the sound you associated with the school.

Nope…when the small, outdoor court came into view, you realized there was someone dribbling a basketball.

That someone was Paige Bueckers.

What were the chances?! You needed to go, before she saw you. You turned around fast, and tripped over your own feet. Your body hit the grass with a small “oof” sound escaping your lips.

“Y/N?!” Paige called when she saw you.

She was at your side within a second, immediately trying to get you up.

“Hi, Paige…” You said awkwardly, trying not to slur.

“The hell are you doing here?” She asked as she pulled you to your feet easily.

“I was…in town.” You shrugged.

She was gonna say something else, when her nose wrinkled. “Jesus…you smell like beer.”

It clicked in her brain just then. You opened your mouth to lie again, but all that came out was a shaky, alcohol scented breath.

“Ar you drunk?” She asked quietly.

“Just…a little bit.” You mumbled.

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed abruptly. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?!”

“I didn’t mean to be!” You yelped.

“Sure.” She scoffed. “You accidentally took a few shots? Chugged some beer? Drank some soda that you didn’t know had vodka in it?!”

You huffed, not knowing what to say. She was always right when it came to this.

“I just need to get home…” You whispered shakily.

“Where were you?” She whispered back.

“Party.”

“Hm. It’s early for you to leave a party.”

“Cops.”

An awkward silence passed. She watched you fight intoxicated tears.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” She sighed.

“Could you…get me a ride?” You said. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Where are you going? Home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“What if you go out again, huh? The bar? The club?”

“I’m super tired, Paige.” You shook your head. “I’m not going out.”

“You think I’m gonna believe you?” She scoffed. “You’ve pulled that shit before.”

“Then what are you gonna do?” You said, frustrated.

She sighed again, dragging a hand down her face.

“You’ll stay with me.” She announced. “Just for tonight.”

You froze. Really? Your ex would be the one taking you home?

“Come on.” She said, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s getting cold.”

She led you back to her apartment. You were a bit unsteady, starting to feel the negative effects of the alcohol.

“Don’t you have roommates?” You asked once you were inside her building.

“They don’t mind.” She waved that off. “Just be quiet and they won’t care.”

“We shouldn’t do this…” You said.

Usually when you got drunk, you were all over her, insisting she go home with you.

You knew better by now.

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige said softly. “I just…I can’t let you go home alone right now.”

The both of you went up to her dorm. She pulled out her keys and opened the door, inviting you in. When you struggled to slip your shoes off, feeling unsteady, she knelt down to get them off for you.

“You feeling sick?” She whispered.

“Uh…not really.” You replied, despite that fact that your head was spinning.

Paige saw right through the lie.

“Go in my room.” She told you. “I’ll be right there.”

You quietly went to her bedroom, remembering where it was, of course. You perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, waiting.

Paige came in a few minutes later, after convincing her roommates they they wouldn’t be hearing any grotesque noises. She carried a small trash bag and a glass of water.

“Drink up.” She instructed, giving you the cup. She then placed the bag in your lap. “And if you have to puke, do it in there.”

“Thanks.” You muttered.

She knelt down in front of you, looking at you with those insanely blue eyes. “C’mon…drink.”

You took a few sips of the water. You knew she was being helpful, but the water kind of made you want to throw up.

“Just hold onto that bag.” Paige said when she noticed your facial expression.

She stood up, and walked over to her closet. After digging around for a moment, she came back with a t-shirt and comfy shorts. The shirt looked so familiar…you suddenly realized why.

You would always steal her clothes when you were a couple. She often found her hoodies in your bedroom, her sweatpants (which were actually ginormous on you because she was so tall), mixed with your laundry. You rarely hid it well. Sometimes you’d just show up at her place in her clothes.

Your favorite thing to steal was one of her March Madness shirts. It was very comfy, and a reminder of how amazing Paige and her team were. So when she gave you the shirt that drunken night? You quickly burst into tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Paige asked worriedly.

“You…you remembered.” You sniffled.

She didn’t know what to say. She felt sort of caught. She muttered a quick “Of course I did” and took the water from you.

Her bedroom was dark, only slightly lit by the moon shining through the window, so she didn’t see much when she helped you out of your party clothes. Not like she’d never seen you naked. Once you were in the comfortable clothes, she pulled the blankets on her bed back, allowing you to slip in.

“I’m gonna stop, Paige.” You whispered, still crying as she tucked you in. “I’m gonna stop drinking.”

She sighed. She’d heard you say this before, but never so seriously.

“Good.” She said. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this point.”

“I know…” You whimpered. “I don’t want to die…”

You were quick to put your head in your hands so she wouldn’t see you cry even more. She bit her lip at this. She was angry at you, for continuing to abuse alcohol, but…she hated that she was. She just wanted to comfort you. She never liked seeing you cry.

“Let’s just try to sleep, alright?” She said softly, climbing over you to lie down.

She got in the bed, keeping a safe distance. Neither of you were very comfortable. You were too tense. You hadn’t been in bed together in ages. It would’ve been nice if you weren’t so awkward.

You really tried to pull yourself together. You wiped your eyes, took deep breaths, focused on good thoughts. But your drunken tears kept coming.

Suddenly, Paige was shifting, and she was getting closer. She laid on her side, facing you. Then you felt her hand carding through your hair, gently scratching your scalp.

“What’re you doing…?” You whispered.

“When I used to do this, you’d be out cold within minutes.” She whispered back.

She kept doing the soothing motion. Your eyes were getting heavy, like she’d hoped.

“I’m really gonna stop.” You muttered.

“I know…just sleep.” She murmured.

“I miss you.” You whispered. In your half asleep, intoxicated state, you didn’t think twice about saying that.

She swallowed hard, her hand faltering for only a second. “I told you to go to sleep.”

“I just wanted you to know.” You answered.

“I know.” She repeated, smiling a little at the small amount of sass in your voice. “You don’t have to miss me, though. I’m right here.”

Exhaustion was finally getting to you, so you were falling into a deep sleep.

“I’ll be right here.” She whispered a few seconds before you fully sank into unconsciousness. “We’ll figure this out…we always do."

#paige bueckers uconn #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn x reader #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wlw imagine #women’s sports #ursickandmarriedstories

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hitlikehammers · 2 days ago

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(not your average) seven minutes ⏰ ♥️

or: what if Steve had been ‘playfully’ locked into a room by his drunken not-friends at that infamous Halloween party in 1984, for 💕Seven Minutes in Heaven💞!

…and no one realized Eddie Munson was already hiding inside 🫥

Steve just wants to get the fuck out of this place, this party, this fucking…bullshit life he’s found himself in. He’s not at his best, under-fucking-standadably, so when the drunk-ass Halloween masses push and shove and giggle as they lock him in an upstairs bedroom for—oh god, Seven Minutes In Heaven, what are they, goddamn twelve—he’s going to fucking scream, he— “Not quite what you were expecting behind Door Number One?” Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which sounds familiar and then also, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s— It’s a good voice, basically. And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak. Half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes and it…it does something. To Steve. It does something to Steve.

rating: t ♥️ tags: s2 era, alternate meeting, that ONE HALLOWEEN PARTY (you know which one), steve meets eddie immediately after nancy does her drunken bullshit thing, seven minutes in heaven meets truth or dare, (weirdly more effective than you’d think), first kiss(es), fluff, humor, boys being boys, climbing out of windows (like a ninja🥷), getting together (?) ♥️

again: originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo forever ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because it’s going to have a sequel show up soon for @steddielovemonth—which I thank profusely for giving me the kick in the ass required to revisit and actually try to finish this series!

“Oh my fucking god.”

Steve honestly doesn’t know if he’s going to start crying or throwing up quicker, like which one’s closest to the surface; keeping his balance as the shock, the jagged parts that draw blood when your heart gets crushed to shards leaving him susceptible—pathetic, fucking pathetic— to the pushing and pulling and grabbing of the throngs of trashed partygoers shoving him away from the front door, pushing harder every time he tripped up the stairs, laughing and yelling and chanting and fuck, fuck he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t want this, and he doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, just that it’s not his car, and then his house, and then his bed where he can…let it all come crashing down and not have a fucking audience, just: goddamn.

As soon as a door’s thrown open and she’s shoved to stumble hard, catch his nails to bending, bleeding against the light switch as the lock clicks behind him—well fuck.

He gets it now.

Fuck.

“Not what you were expecting behind Door Number One?”

Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which is familiar and then, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s—

It’s a good voice, basically.

And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak, half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes but…it does something.

It does something Steve doesn’t want to dwell on, the kind of thing he’s kinda been working really hard and doing pretty fucking well and not dwelling on but then…maybe like, any other night, any other hour of any other night? Steve maybe would have turned, and at least tried to force the door open; maybe he’d have pushed it down like he’s been getting real good at, almost to the point where he doesn’t even have to think about it, the thing itself or the pushing it down: in fact he’s absolutely sure he’d have done just that. Any other night. After any other fucking night.

But it’s all bullshit anyway, so like, why even bother, what does any of it even matter, Barb’s dead, blood’s on his hands apparently for a pool he doesn’t even fucking pay for, his love’s fucking nothing and the voice from the corner, hell, even the jawline the flame’s casting sharp every other second, every flip open then stealing away with every flip closed: that’s something and so, like.

Any other night. It’d be different.

But it’s this night.

“I wasn’t expecting any door except the one on the front driver’s side of my goddamn car, man,” Steve sighs and throws his weight against a dresser—plain. Really plain—kid’s room. Not too young. Boy’s room. Little brother of…fuck, Steve can’t even remember whose house they’re in.

“I can see where this would definitely count as,” Munson’s tongue runs almost contemplatively over his lips as he tips his head; “a deviation from the plan.”

Steve snorts; he means it to sound amused, because he is that. Honestly he is.

But it sounds like it get halfway there, before it nosedives a little into a half-stifled sob.

Goddamnit.

“You okay, Harrington?”

Oh. So not only is he recognizable, he’s also recognizably not fucking okay.

That’s just great.

“My girlfriend says I’m bullshit,” Steve has no fucking idea what makes him just say it, to basically a stranger at that, and fuck, no, not a stranger: this stranger, who Steve knows enough of but who Steve’s pretty sure knows too many things about him for comfort, just—he doesn’t know what makes him say it. “That loving her is bullshit.”

Actually: probably that’s it. Bullshit, versus something. Munson’s eyes stay fixed on him the whole time, even as he keeps flicking the lighter.

“Does,” Munson starts, and in his good-voice, he sounds almost, like, hesitant. Which isn’t a way Steve really associates with the guy, if he associates anything with him at all but apparently yeah, he does, because he’s absolutely certain this shit’s out of the norm: “like, not to be a dick, seriously,” yeah, yeah: this is like a gentle voice. Careful. Care…caring?

And, like…why?

“But does that mean she’s still your girlfriend?”

Oh. Pity might be why. That’s fun.

“Shit,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, fucks his hair up even more than it’s been which is possibly not even possible. “Probably not.”

Munson lets out a breath that’s almost a whistle, and looks genuinely regretful—again, why, most of the people he hangs out with would probably celebrate Steve’s suffering, so like, what the fuck—

“That sucks man,” Munson says, honest, like, really honest as he para down his…surprisingly tight jeans until he extracts a pre-roll from the front picked and holds it out in offering: “on the house.”

Steve needs that shit bad enough for it to be maybe the only thing he doesn’t question in all of this.

“Thanks,” he says as Munson holds out a light and Steve leans in; the guy smells of party sweat and too many bodies, of Kate autumn air and cheap cologne. He smells…

It’s a good smell. It matches his good voice.

“You wanna?” Steve offers on impulse after he takes a lungful and maybe a little more, maybe a little too much—greedy, needy, bullshit—and holds it back to Eddie as he breathes out slow, tries to keep it all in as long as he can but not…not in a pushing-it-down kind of way. More a making-the-most kind of way.

“Do you wanna?” Munson asks, eyes so wide, like a baby animal or something. Like a cartoon character. Steve just keeps holding the joint out to him, close enough that his lips will touch Steve’s fingers if he wants them to, and in Steve’s head he feels like he’ll call him Eddie, in his head, if his mouth brushes his skin.

It does.

Eddie it is, then.

And Steve’s real good at shoving down things like the way his heart skips and fucking jumps, runs a little—he’s good at it.

But not tonight.

“They always double the time, ‘specially when they think they’re being funny,” Steve licks his fingers where Eddie’s mouth had touched because why the fuck not, and he slides down the simple preteen dresser and leans back on the palms of his hands as he sighs out the words and the remaining smoke in his lungs, but let’s go of none of the taste he’d lapped off the skin around his knuckles. Not that. “Probably longer than that if they’re as drunk as they looked.”

“Ah,” Eddie kinda, almost, hums through the purse of his lips before he offers the smoke back Steve’s way, and if Steve makes sure his lips drag over Eddie’s fingers, what fucking of it. It does make the space between his inhale and Eddie’s willingness to say any more words out loud a long quiet pause where Steve’s pulse runs high between his collarbones but it’s…it’s not bad. And Steve kinda wants to keep that in his back pocket, for later: the thing he’s gotten so good and pushing down might not feel so goddamn bad, up near the surface where it’s still able to breathe.

Huh.

“So you’re up here on a mission,” Eddie finally says, a little choked but not like you choke on a weird drag, y’know? Different choking. Steve feels the urge to smirk and while he doesn’t give into it?

It’s definitely there.

“As far as they’re concerned,” Steve says with…Steve doesn’t know what he says it with. How he says it. How he means it.

“You don’t look drunk,” Eddie saves him from dwelling on that particular unknown, lets him course correct with a little scoff.

It also distracts him from how Eddie sits next to him. Not too close, but still pretty fucking close.

“I know my limits.” Which is why he takes back the joint without a single thought and does the maybe-too-much thing, because it feels good, and lets himself look for the taste of Eddie on the paper: salt and a tang of something and then sweetness, like fucking candy.

It’s a good taste.

“I’m probably a little drunk,” Eddie declares without sounding it at all, and taking to the eeed again without a secondly hesitation; “more like tipsy, really, if that, but still, totally not my style,” he frowns, like it really isn’t, like he’s disappointed in himself. It’s kinda…cute.

Fuck.

“I don’t touch shit at these parties but I was thirsty as fuck,” Eddie gestures with his free hand, and it’s the first time Steve’s notices how his run at glint: good hands; “haven’t eaten all day and thought I’d beat the punch spiking.”

“Aww, man,” Steve moans on Eddie’s behalf, sympathetic; “the punch is always pre-spiked.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie nods, holding the joint to Steve’s lips straight on this time, and Steve thinks nothing of breathing in without touching it himself, letting Eddie decide when to pull it back. “Point being, on an empty stomach, even one such as myself,” Eddie gestures broadly at his person with the nearly-spent smoke: “is not immune.”

Steve huffs a little laugh; he kinda wants it to be bigger but he’s feeling…soft. Nice.

Good.

“So we’ve got somewhere between seven and…” Eddie glances at his wrist as if he’s expecting a watch there; Steve wants to know if he forgot one he normally wears or if it’s all for show: “thirty minutes, by your estimation?”

“Thereabouts,” Steve shrugs. You can never really know for sure.

“You umm,” Eddie ventures after a few seconds; “you want to talk about, umm,” and he trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Not,” Steve’s saying before really thinking;“not really.” It’s actually kind of weird how much he means it, too. “I was trying to get home.”

“Drown your sorrows?” Eddie surmises, but Steve shakes his head.

“Wasn’t even gonna bother,” and his asshole father’s got the good shit, too; Steve probably could have managed a decent bit of wallowing with minimal hangover. “Just wanted to get out, clear my,” he clears his throat, though he’s not sure why, doesn’t really thing he needs it: “head.”

Then Steve turns to look at Eddie only to find Eddie already looking straight at him.

That’s…that’s something.

“Then they shoved me in here because they’re all fucking assholes,” Steve chuckles a little, does his damn best to make it clear he’s only calling the dickheads downstairs assholes; not…not Eddie.

Like it was an asshole move to shove him in here but, not because of Eddie.

Like, at all.

“And drunk off their asses,” Eddie grins, a very good grin, and Steve matches it as best he’s able because it means his comments landed okay, the right way; “swear I didn’t sell anything hard enough to be the culprit.” Steve snorts, and Eddie matches that and all the matching feels…it feels.

“It’s funny though,” Eddie comments, a little idly once the laughter’s echoed out. Steve tilts his head, all question.

“No one knew I was in here,” Eddie gestures to the whole of the not-very-big room. “It’d be one thing to prank you and shove you in here with me, ha ha,” he tosses his head back and forth and sticks out his tongue like Steve knows he’s done on the tables in the cafeteria more than once but it’s softer, here, it’s almost warm or playful and maybe a little self…deprecating? Steve thinks that’s the word but whatever the word is, Steve doesn’t love that it’s there alongside everything else.

“I mean, insulting as shit to you, so they probably wouldn’t have done that to you,” and Steve frowns because yeah, these parts are thinks he loves at all; “you’re still royalty,” and Eddie pops on an accent and bows his head and it’s not mocking like it would be in school, but.

Steve doesn’t fucking love that either.

“Fuck that,” Steve’s quick to kind of…bite out. Like, hard. “And hell, if I am fucking royalty,” he air-quotes the word because fuck it, fuck it all; “it’s not for much longer.”

Eddie settles, and watches Steve almost…careful. Like maybe he’s looking for something. Or else, he’s taking the time to really get something from whatever he does see.

It’s weird. Steve doesn’t know what to do with being looked at to be seen.

“Think I’ll be glad to be rid of it, to be honest,” Steve says, picks at the beds of his nails a little, something he’s learned from all the girls he’s dated for a few days here and there—distraction.

But he means it, he realizes that for absolute certain as soon as he says it.

“Huh,” Eddie finally says, and it’s said…like it means something.

Something maybe…good. Or like it could be. Can be.

Huh.

“Anyway, they would have thought the room was empty,” Eddie picks back up, stretches a little and oh. Oh wow, he’s got a long neck when it’s all stretched out. It’s…it looks good.

Then Eddie cuts his gaze sly toward Steve and smirks: “Who were you supposed to fucking have your seven heavenly minutes with?”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks lazily back in Eddie’s direction.

“My hand?”

Eddie’s eyes widen a little, and they’re…they’re really close, like, either Steve didn’t notice before or they’ve gotten closer.

Eddie’s lips are…really close.

“Oh, well,” those close lips are saying, but that good voice is kinda too-soft for the tease: “don’t let me interrupt.”

Steve blinks a couple times, to make sure he heard right.

“Sorry, that was—“ Eddie starts to walk it back but once Steve’s done with his blinking?

He fucking busts out laughing. Like…the embarrassing, snorting, pitchy kind of laughter.

“Funny,” he gasps a little, waving Eddie’s concern away because it was, it was: “That was funny, man.”

Maybe Steve thinks it’s too funny. But once Eddie shifts from shocked to something more like pleasantly surprised?

It feels like it was the perfect level of funny.

“Okay,” Eddie says as his grin grows but gets ducked into his chin, as his hand fumbles for a stand of his hair like he can hide behind it, which is silly, and weird.

And…endearing. Steve wants to see what that strand of hair feels like.

Also weird. Maybe silly. Maybe too much, maybe bullshit—

“Hey,” Eddie’s leaning toward him, and if Steve thought they were close before, that was a fucking lie in comparison because holy fucking wow, is Eddie close. He’s got freckles on his nose. Steve never would have guessed. “Want me to be funny some more?” He asks, a little loud, a little too bout any and bouncy and…like he means it, like he wants to be this thing but not so much for himself, or else not just for himself, but for Steve.

No one does shit like that for Steve.

“Your eyes are too pretty to be sad.”

Steve’s eyes aren’t too fucking pretty to nearly pop out their goddamn sockets when those words register in his ears, in his brain, make his chest tight in a kinda fucking terrifying way but such a good way and Eddie looks so scared, and Eddie’s eyes are too pretty to be scared and, oh shit.

“Truth or dare?”

The question kinda just pops out, which is…not ideal but better than his eyes doing that, so: win. And Eddie’s eyes shift from scared to stunned, confused—both better options. Double win.

“What?”

Steve clears his throat this time because you genuinely fucking needs it. “Gotta do something to pass however many minutes they leave us here, don’t we?”

Because it was definitely a seven-minutes-in-heaven set up. And Steve doesn’t know how long they’ve passed so far but he wants it to be a while longer that they’ve got left and distractions, distractions to keep from dwelling—

“Truth.”

Oh. Alright.

“Just my eyes?”

That, Steve clocks right after saying it, is the exact opposite of not fucking dwelling. He feels a little sick.

But his heart’s leaping like it’s never been free of a fucking cage until this moment, so it’s confusing.

Eddie looks confused too, so on top of it: Steve’s not even alone. In being confused.

And Steve’s alone so much. This is…kinda nice.

Kinda good.

“Is it just my eyes that are too pretty?” Steve says, for clarity. And Eddie swallows so hard Steve can hear it; fuck, he swallows hard enough it has to hurt.

“No,” Eddie says, tiny and faint before he straights his spine and looks Steve straight on: intentional.

Bracing for impact.

“Truth or dare.”

Steve’s kinda tired of being daring on principle. Generally. He’s terrified of the truth but…shit.

“Truth.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eddie doesn’t say it mean. But he does say it in a way Steve couldn’t have lied to him about if he wanted to even try.

He doesn’t though. Want to try.

“Literally or, like, figuratively?”

The implications of that answer hit a little belatedly and Steve feels his cheeks go read as Eddie’s breath punches straight out of his lungs:

“Jesus H. Christ—“

“No, to both,” Steve answers quick before he loses his nerve, because maybe the truth was as daring, more daring even, than anything else. “Not even a little bit. For either.”

Eddie’s throat works around words he doesn’t say for a long stretch of seconds. Steve’s heart’s in his throat so, he thinks he kinda gets the feeling.

“Truth or Dare,” he forces out. Because it’s his turn.

“Dare,” Eddie barely breathes. Steve wasn’t expecting that, but the ready response makes it clear that deep down, he was hoping.

“Give me my seven minutes.”

Eddie freezes. Coughs. Pales a little before he stumbles over words less like he’s avoiding anything and more like he’s really that unbalanced. Shocked out of sync.

“With your hand?” he asks, a little squeak in the pitch of his voice. “Like, turns my back, cover my ears?”

Steve huffs a nervous little laugh. Nervous but…undeniably fond.

“No, dipshit.” The implication is…pretty fucking clear.

“You’re heartbroken,” Eddie points out.

“Maybe less that I thought I’d be,” Steve answers honestly, surprises himself; and maybe that’s for a damn good reason, too. “You’re ‘tipsy’.”

“Increasingly less so by the goddamn second,” Eddie confesses, his eyes fixed to Steve’s lips before flickering back up, so so wide:

“Harrington,” he whispers, sounding kinda lost; “I don’t—“

“It’s fine, if you,” Steve’s quick to regroup, even though his pulse is trying to choke him—stupid, needy, idiot, too much, greedy, dumbass, fucking bullshit; “you can forget it.”

Steve would like to forget it, kinda immediately; letting himself want. Letting himself try.

“I don’t,” Eddie starts again, but Steve can’t stand it, can’t beat it: that good good voice trying to make this anything but a goddamn catastrophe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t like, mean to,” and fuck, Steve’s not only clearly suggested some very dangerous things about himself he’s only starting to even be willing to think about coming to grips with but what about what he’s assumed, implied about Eddie, guys don’t take lightly to that shit, oh fucking hell; “I don’t, you know, like, do this,” he tries to salvage, and even he knows it’s a pathetic attempt; “like this—“

“I don’t fuck around with straight boys as a rule, see,” Eddie blurts out in a rush, color high on his cheeks; “keeps my poor squishy gay heart from bruising.”

And Eddie; oh, oh—

Those eyes are too damn pretty to look so scared.

And maybe it’s less about truth being safer than a dare, maybe both are a risk in their own way and maybe…maybe both just require that you’re brave.

Steve can try to be brave, maybe. Just this once. This one night that’s different, where he’s not pushing it all down.

“If I told you,” he says slowly, so slowly because it’s hard to fight what he knows so we’ll; “if I said I didn’t know, yet, how much of a bend there might be in my kind of…straight?” Steve frowns, brow furrowed; that came out so goddamn weird, but he makes himself look at Eddie when he asks:

“Would that change anything?”

Eddie gapes at him, a little like a fish, and Steve goes back to the beginning: he’s equally likely to start sobbing as he is likely to throw the fuck up—but Eddie blinks, and his head tilts and he reaches slow, tentative, like he doesn’t know if he’s really allowed but also like he wants to make sure Steve can cut and run before his hand meets Steve’s cheek.

He is allowed, though. He’s…Steve is pretty sure he’s fucking welcome.

“Would,” Eddie murmurs incredulously, thumbing Steve’s lower lip before he does the slow thing, leaning while leaving an out but Steve doesn’t want a goddamn out.

He moves forward in a blink and kisses Eddie with all the skill and know-how he’s woven together into making the people he kisses feel good, and he puts his whole self in, all the concentration and focus and investment he’s got to make it…great, if he can.

But then something kind of wild happens.

Because it kinda feels like Eddie is…doing the same thing. Like Eddie wants Steve to feel all those things just as big and sure.

Steve doesn’t…Steve’s never been kissed like this. Like that. Like his half of the deal isn’t just a given.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, though: Steve has to run on pure instinct; his partner never does that shit first.

It’s fucking amazing. And given the moans he gets, the wet sucking sounds and the panting before they reconnect again, then again: Steve’s willing to bet his instincts are pretty solid.

They finally break for more than a second and Eddie’s hands come to Steve’s chest for balance as he gasps, as his hair falls in a curtain between them and Steve’s barely got the breath in him to speak yet when he covers one of Eddie’s hands with his own and half-whispers.

“Come on,” and he’s tugging Eddie to standing, both of them a little wobbly on their feet for a second or two before Eddie stills.

“We’re locked in,” he seems to remember in real time, like the whole kissing thing—not quite seven minutes; maybe more than seven minutes; not e-fucking-nough either way—knocked reasonable thought out of him for a second, there.

“The window,” Steve’s prepared for it, leads him over with their hands still kinda just covering each other, kinda holding one another, kinda a lot of things. “I’ve been here before, we can get out,” because yeah, he knows the house even if he still doesn’t remember who it belongs to; “and you haven’t eaten,” Steve remembers that clear as day, frowning at Eddie, almost scolding him.

Eddie lights up, though. Like maybe there are things no one’s really ever thought of for Eddie, too. Like, maybe Steve wasn’t the only one finding out someone could…pay attention.

Like he was worth paying attention to.

And like…Eddie? Steve doesn’t know exactly what to do with all the things that are tied up in everything he pushes down, where they’re bubbling up and seeping from his pore or some shit, but what he does know, without a doubt?

Eddie Munson is very much worth paying attention to.

“What the hell’s even open,” Eddie says, and Steve takes a second to add it up—food, he needs food—and he grins, and like…he kinda can’t help it? He definitely doesn’t think about it before he kisses Eddie, hard and quick and more smile in it than…he kinda remembers having, or giving, like…

More than he remembers. At all.

Huh.

“Benny’s if we’re quick,” Steve breaks off and pushes the window open; “otherwise the kitchen at Casa Harrington makes a hell of a TV dinner this time of night,” he tosses a grin Eddie’s way that’s nothing like he uses on the girls, he can tell, can feel it: it’s goofy and sincere and…yeah. “Probably got like a Salisbury steak one.”

It’s Eddie who leans, quicker and more like he’s stealing it, like he’s sneaking it and jumping back quick just in case he gets caught and it’s in doing that exactly that Steve has the incredibly clear sense, amidst all the unclear shit in his chest and his brain and his everything, that he…wants to catch Eddie.

“Fancy,” Eddie grins, and oh fuck.

Oh fuck, those dimples.

“Only the best for my honored guests,” Steve pokes one of those heavenly fucking dimples and oh.

Oh.

Steve’s making sure the window won’t fall on them as them climb down when Eddie leans close, looks down, and talks really close to Steve’s ear:

“They’re a reason we didn’t bail from the get-go?”

Steve wouldn’t hide the way he shivers if he tried.

“Honestly?” Steve chuckles, light with it, maybe…and he’s not sure okay, he could be making shit up and talking out his ass but, like, maybe he’s…

Free with it. Free with it?

He looks at Eddie who’s still grinning, dimples and all.

Free’s close enough.

“I don’t know, wasn’t really thinking,” Steve admits, and then tries the brave thing one more time: “truth or dare?”

Eddie’s answer is immediate, leaned close again against Steve’s shoulder, close at his ear:

“Truth.”

“Will you be angry if I said I wasn’t mad,” Steve turns, and their lips are so close: “that I didn’t think of leaving from the start?”

“Oddly enough?” Eddie grins so near that just the motion brushes their mouths. “Not even a little bit.” Then Eddie leans closer, means to, and doesn’t run like he’s stealing anything this time when he kisses Steve like he means it.

Then he’s speaking straight against Steve’s lips: “Truth or dare?”

And fuck it; everything’s been mixed up, shattered, rebuilt, turned inside out tonight. So far it’s turning out way better than Steve could have guessed. Definitely so much better than it started.

Might as well keep running with it.

“Dare.”

Eddie grins but there’s a heat to it, but then alongside, there’s something…mischievous. And then Eddie’s bumping his head into Steve’s and murmuring close:

“You climb down first and catch my ass when I inevitably fall halfway,” he issues his challenger; “I’m uncoordinated as shit.”

And Steve was wrong before.

The kiss he gives Eddie has more smile in it than he’s ever had, or shown, or shared before; not once in his whole goddamn life.

He could get used to it.

🧡

also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

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ineffable-doll · 1 day ago

Text

Tips on adding tags to fics

I wrote a guide last year about writing fanfic summaries (check it out here) and thought it might be useful to do a follow-up on tags! (Please note that this is AO3-specific and focuses entirely on the Additional Tags section. And also that all of this is just my opinion.)

I see folks often lament that they don’t know what tags to add to their fics; I think the biggest struggle comes from folks not knowing what purposes tags serve. So, let’s discuss that!

Convey Tone

The first thing tags are used for is to tell the audience what tone to expect from the fic. Is it a lighthearted comedy with some sweet moments? Tag it with Fluff, Humor, and Comedy. Is it a dark, slow, depressing tale that ends poorly? Try Heavy Angst, Sad, Bad Ending.

When looking for a fic to read, people want to know what the vibe is so they can find the fic that matches what they’re in the mood for. The summary is useful for this, too, but the tags are where you can really confirm: Yes, this is a fic with Light Angst, Humor, and Happy Ending.

In short: use tags as tone indicators. Not all fics cleanly fit one tone or the other, so overlap tags accordingly. It’s normal to have some contradiction; that’s the nature of storytelling.

Some common tone indicator tags:

Fluff

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Domestic Fluff

Romantic Fluff

Light-Hearted

Crack

Crack Taken Seriously

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Comfort No Hurt

Hurt No Comfort

Humor

Some Humor

No Plot/Plotless

Light Angst

Angst

Heavy Angst

Angst With a Happy Ending

Eventual Happy Ending

Sad Ending

Bad Ending

Happy Ending

Hopeful Ending

Ambiguous/Open Ending

…and more!

2. Content Warnings

Next, tags are a great place to add content warnings for your fic. Notes can go into more detail or be used for chapter-level warnings, but putting the broad categories of your content warnings in the tags is a good idea so those who wish to avoid certain types of content can do so, and those specifically seeking out heavy content can find what they’re looking for.

AO3 has the Archive Warnings function to help with this, but tags can elaborate on or specify warnings that don’t fit the Archive Warning categories.

Not everyone likes content warnings or sees the point of adding them, or they feel that they ruin the surprise element of storytelling. I won’t make a detailed argument here, but consider content warnings a sign of respect for your audience and their wellbeing. Triggers are very real things rooted in trauma and the least you can do is give someone a heads up that what you wrote could negatively affect them. Plus, as mentioned, sometimes darker content is exactly the thing someone wants, and a warning can actually be another way to attract a reader.

A very very short list of content warning tags to consider (and here’s your own heads up for mentions of upsetting topics in this list):

Death

Grief/Mourning

Violence

Canon-Typical Violence

Torture

Blood

Abuse

Alcohol

Drugs

Rape/Non-con Elements

Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Consent Issues

Mental Health Issues (there are lots of more specific tags for this category)

Panic Attacks

Ableist Language

…and more!

(There is definitely more that could be said regarding content warnings for Explicit fics, but I don’t read or write those, so you’ll need to look elsewhere for that.)

3. Searchable/Fandom-Specific

One of the most useful aspects of tags is being able to search the entire Archive via tags and/or filter content by tags (both to include and exclude – familiarize yourself with AO3’s Filter system if you haven’t already). So, you’ll want to include tags that folks are searching by. Tone indicator tags are used this way, but so are fandom-specific, character-specific, and relationship-specific tags.

If you have no idea where to start, look up the fandom/character/relationship you are writing for and filter AO3 by that. Then, spend some time looking at tags and filtering by different ones. See what comes up. Reading fic is always the best way to learn how to tag them, and that’s especially the case here. Maybe you’ll end up creating a new fandom tag!

While fandom-specific tags are not necessary, they can help make your fic easier to find, especially in large fandoms. Note that fandom-specific tags will usually have the fandom listed in parentheses at the end.

It’s difficult to make a list of tags for this sort of thing, but here’s some common structures I’ve seen over the years:

[Character Name] Needs a Hug

Asexual/Aromantic/Demisexual (etc.) [Character Name]

Oblivious [Character Name]

Dramatic [Character Name]

Sweet [Character Name]

Angry [Character Name]

Disabled [Character Name]

Autistic [Character Name]

Agender/Nonbinary/Trans [Character Name]

[Character Name] Has Anxiety/ADHD/Tourette’s etc.

Ambiguous [Character Name] and [Character Name] Relationship

Queerplatonic [Character Name] / [Character Name]

They/Them Pronouns for [Character Name]

Teacher/Superhero/Artist/other profession [Character Name]

[Character Name]-centric

Touch-Starved [Character Name]

[Character Name] is Bad at Feelings

[Character Name] Has Self-Esteem Issues

…and more!

Another category is tags for specific scenes, missing scenes, story arcs, episodes/chapters/parts, and so on, such as:

The Night at Crowley’s Flat (Good Omens)

Cloud Recesses Study Arc (Modao Zushi)

Post-Mogami Arc (Mob Psycho 100)

And there are plenty more that are so fandom-specific that they don’t fit an exact category:

Alternate Universe – No System (Scum Villain)

Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens)

Xianle Trio (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

4. BONUS Topic – Canon Divergence and Alternate Universes

One of the most fun parts of fanfic is toying with canon, so here’s a list of tags that can convey your fic’s relationship to the canon story. These are for fics that maintain a strong relationship with or resemblance to canon.

Pre-Canon

During Canon

Post-Canon

Canon Compliant

Not Canon Compliant

Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Alternate Canon

Fix-It

Not a Fix-It

Fix-It of Sorts

Some fandoms have specific tags regarding canon compliance with only parts of the given media – usually the case for franchises or works with big gaps between installments.

Not Canon Compliant With [Media Name] [Season/Episode Number]

Next are Alternate Universes (AUs), which are so divergent from canon to the point of not even being in the same world. There are more types of AU than I could dare list here, and several are also fandom-specific, but here’s some generic sorts that come to mind:

Modern Setting

Human

High School

College/University

Roommates/Housemates

Soulmates

Superheroes/Superpowers

Fairy Tale

Urban Fantasy

Science Fiction & Fantasy

Meet-Cute (can also be Alternative Universe – Different First Meeting)

Meet-Ugly

…and more!

5. BONUS BONUS Topic – Romance

Lots of fics on AO3 are written for romantic ships, and there are a LOT of tags to categorize different types and stages of these ships. These tags are useful to establish reader expectations (and again, for filtering). Some common examples:

Pre-Slash

Pre-Relationship

Developing Relationship

Established Relationship

Love Confessions

Love Realization

Drunken Confessions

Mutual Pining

Not Actually Unrequited Love

Getting Together

Getting Back Together

Moving In Together

Falling in Love

Marriage

[Friends/Enemies/Strangers/Rivals/etc.] to Lovers (can also have three stages, such as Strangers to Friends to Lovers or Lovers to Enemies to Friends)

Flirting

Slow Burn

Denial of Feelings

…and more!

There are also tags to specify what physical affection the characters engage in:

Holding Hands

Cuddling & Snuggling

Hugs

Kissing

Making Out

Almost Kiss

First Kiss

Second Kiss

Literal Sleeping Together

Non-Sexual Intimacy

No Smut

Explicit Sexual Content

Implied/Referenced Sex

…and more!

Aaaand a few non-romantic ones to toss around, for fun:

Best Friends

Platonic Relationships

Friendship

No Romantic Relationships (goes under the Relationships section, not Additional Tags)

Found Family

Friendship/Love

Ambiguous Relationships

Queerplatonic Relationships

Family

Parenthood

Love

Siblings

Developing Friendships

Parent/Child Relationship

…and more!

This guide got out of hand, and I still didn’t cover everything I could have, but I hope this was a helpful overview and makes tagging a little easier for you going forward! Here’s AO3’s tagging page for more info. Feel free to drop your own tips in a reblog/comment or ask questions if there’s something you want me to elaborate on. <3

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fic writing #writing #writing advice #ao3 tags #archive of our own

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mscherub · 2 days ago

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Operation: Kiss the Prefect

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader (Valentine’s Day Special <3)

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect, Y/N, or Shrimpy(by Floyd)

Tags: Fluff, romance, based off the boat scene in The Little Mermaid, funny

Warnings: Mentions of things in book 3; slight spoilers, spelling mistakes are very likely!

Blurb: Samuel(My Twisted ver. Of Sebastian) and Finn(My Twisted ver. Of Flounder) make up a plan, also including Sully(My Twisted ver. Of Scuttle), to get you and Azul together finally. Things happen and the Tweels find out. Based off the infamous boat scene and song “Kiss the Girl,” in The Little Mermaid :)

Azul is calculated, strong witted in every situation that he could possibly think of, a good trait to have, especially from where he originates. He was prepared with rebuttals and convincing phrases that got any poor unfortunate souls to bend to his whim and agree to his words, which, were always often fabricated, of course for the betterment of his business, don’t you know? Although, he overworks himself, and he rarely pays attention to other things in his life, just business, business, business, and more business, always focusing on it.

And honestly, this just ticked off two of the first year dorm members of Octavinelle. It really did! They watched their Housewarden sketch away at his contracts and focusing solely on money, and they know if they don’t give him a little push then he’ll only know his work for the rest of his life. A little push for what exactly? Well, it’s just so painfully obvious how much Azul likes you, the Prefect. It’s so easy to tell, yet he’s using his work as a distraction to hide his true feelings it seems.

They watch how he stumbles over his words when you talk to him willingly at any given time, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves as he nods along to your words. Of course he tries to plays this off, being all smug about certain topics if he’s well off in them, but the two students could see his inner turmoil, his reluctance to get closer.

Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, so this is the perfect time for Samuel and Finn to put their plan into action. They knew that you, too, also had the hots for Azul (Info heard from Grim who complained loudly after finding out). Sure he tried to rob you of your home, but that was in the past. He mentions you at least once everyday around the dorm, it’s different, especially with how he acts! They’ll use this to their advantage, after all, they did learn from the best.

Now, time to initiate mission: “Kiss the Prefect!” Well, try to, anyways.

Finn sits in Sameuls dorm room on his bed, watching as he writes down key points and factors on a whiteboard, the marker squeaking with each stroke. Samuel pauses and takes a step back, reading over the board before he shakes his head and erases his thoughts away once again

”Give me an idea…something not too cheesy, also something we can trick Azul into.” He sighs as he taps his foot.

Finn scoffs and he lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Yea…tricking him? He can see right through anything…also, I don’t know about this plan anymore.” He sits up and he leans back on his hands.

“What if it turns around on us and bites us in the ass like a piranha?” He sighs.

Samuel quirks an eyebrow and he sets his marker down and crosses his arms. “Look, this’d be the perfect thing for us to do. Don’t doubt it. It’s for Azul’s own good, more so ours, but that’s besides the point.”

“You know he’ll go against it if he finds out—“

“He won’t! Finn, we’ll make this plan impossible for him to decipher…the motto of our dorm is to help those who seem in distress…or something like that, whatever— we just need to think a little longer about it is all.” Samuel grabs his marker again and puts down a bullet point. “Give me a few ideas here…”

Finn purses his lips and he looks around the room as he takes the whole thing into consideration. “Ok…how about a boat ride? We tell Azul about the freshman marine biology course Crewel has us going through currently, and that if he helped out the Prefect it’d be a good way to get them indebted to him…is what I would say if Azul would actually consider the idea. There’s no way to get him to get close to the prefect on his own—”

“Ok, no…no, no, no, hold that thought! Finn you are something else…” Samuel hums as he hurriedly writes it down.

“Oh…that’s not— I wasn’t being serious about that.” He gets up from the bed and he walks over, watching the words flow down onto the board.

“No, serious or not, this idea will be good. We just have to figure out how to make it play out right, how to get the prefect on board, too. Azul will take more convincing.” Samuel smiles as he connects lines to other points, drawing arrows.

“Exactly. Getting him to go with the Prefect on his own. That won’t happen, you see how he acts around them, he’s so helpless!” Finn shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the mere thought.

“We’ll make our ‘cause’ sound convincing. And, the Prefect would be more open up to the idea if we told them. ‘Excuse me prefect, Azul offered to take you on a boat ride for the marine biology unit, without having to pay!’ Right? Sounds good? I think so…a little white lie doesn’t hurt.” Samuel draws a boat on the whiteboard.

“The Prefect isn’t stupid, Samuel…”

“Well we can try at least. Cmonnnn, think of some things!” Samuel pouts as his marker stops.

“Slow down…we still have time. A whole week, so…we’ll have plenty of time to get the finer details…just remember we have to avoid the twins…”

Samuel stops writing and he tense up, he sighs and he caps the marker. “We…we can worry about them later. They barley recognize us as apart of the dorm, so I bet they won’t even find out, I guarantee it.”

“They’re creepy…and they find out a lot of things, don’t even try me…” Finn shakes his head.

“Don’t be so scared.” Samuel nudges Finns shoulder with his own and smiles again. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We die.”

“Ooook, chill out, that won’t happen.” Samuel sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks at the other boy in front of him.

“You don’t know that!” Finn huffs.

“Ok…well, time and fate will tell. Who do you wanna deal with? The Prefect or Azul?” Samuel quickly changes the topic.

“Prefect.” Finn nods.

“Ok. Good to know. Then we can base our plan off of that. Get to thinking tonight! Remember, if we get them together then technically we have an advantage over Azul. We helped him score a hot date, so he’ll just have to pay us back.” Samuel smiles, chuckles and walks Finn to the door.

Hey, they’re Octavinelle students, after all.

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

Some more planning happened over the last few days and it’s finally time to initiate the ultimate plan, first convincing both sides, second, getting both sides to agree, then third, Samuel and Finn being the best wingmen imaginable and receiving the praise and glory, that’s at least what they’re hoping for.

The lounge is…technically closed at the moment, seats are flipped up on tables and the place has been cleansed to a spotless perfection, but more serious matters needed to be tended to.

“Ok, let’s act the scene out. Pretend I’m the prefect, you convinced me to come join you at the lounge for the project, bring up the topic about the unit, and we have to pray the Prefect will complain about it, but I will for the sake of practice. Your lines, ‘yea, I wish I could help you but I’m really busy the rest of the week so I can’t. Maybe ask someone else?’ Right? You got it?” Samuel sighs as he eyes Finn. Finn nods and he clears his throat.

He goes over to the table in the “empty” lounge, and he pulls out the chair for Samuel, then Finn sits down himself.

“Scribble scribble, sounds of fake studying, blah blah blah. And go!” Samuel hums.

“Man, Prefect, this new marine biology unit must be hard for you, huh?”

“Oh myyyy, yes! Totally! Maybe you could help me with it considering your from the coral sea?”

“Unfortunately I can’t. I’m super busy, you know? Over the weekend I have to go back home for a little so I can hang out with my totally real girlfriend, yes.” Finn nods, pursing his lips. “Maybe ask someone else? The twins maybe?”

“Bro, don’t even mention the twins that’ll scare the prefect, oh my seven.” Samuel sighs as he breaks character.

“Ok, sorry, I was just saying random things for the skit…” Finn’s shoulders slump.

Sounds of heels clicking against the ground cause the two to straighten up. They scramble to their feet but it’s already too late for them.

“Hmmmm? Little guppies are in the lounge, heh!” Floyd smirks as he sees the two, his teeth glinting in the dim lights.

“Uhhhh…”

“My, my, Floyd, what do we have here?” Jade chuckles lightly.

“Why are these fuckers up, ahhhhh…” Finn whispers as he inches slowly behind Samuel, which in turn causes him to stumble and glare at Finn as he tries to use him as a shield.

“Have you two failed to read the ‘closed’ sign? I don’t think Azul will fair well with finding out his own dorm members were sneaking in here at such late hours…” Jade sighs, shaking his head as if he is truly disappointed.

“There’s no way to lie our way out of this, huh…” Samuel’s voice is higher pitched and just a small murmur at this point.

“Precisely. Floyd, would you escort them—“

“WE KNOW THE WAY OUT THANK YOU!!!” Finn yelps as he books it to the door, Samuel in sync and a step behind him.

Floyd sighs and he leans back against the wall.

“Did ya hear what they were doing? Either they got some weird fetishes or they’re planning something…” Floyd hums.

“Indeed.” Jade nods.

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

You sit in class listening to Crewel’s usual small lecture before he sends everyone off to do their own thing. You go with your partner, Finn, and you start to go over the prospective material.

He awkwardly clears his throat, putting a fist to his mouth and looking at you. “So…you, uh, do you wanna come by the lounge later to study just a little more before the exam next Monday? I won’t be here for the rest of the weekend so…if you’d wanna.”

You weigh the option in your mind before you respond with a small nod. “Sure, I think I’m free. I don’t think Crowley has me doing much today, on Fridays he usually has me clean up most the gardens around the school.” You smile.

“I uh…I don’t think that’s something to be normal about— anyways, yea, ok, good.” He gives you a small nod. “Meet me after classes are over, we can walk to Octavinelle. Oh, and make sure you drop Grim off with your friends.”

“Uh, ok, that’s a little odd but sure.” You shrug.

"Uh, Azul implemented a new rule, no pets allowed..."

"Grim isn't a pet, though?"

"Oh, uh...better safe than sorry, oh, look at that, bell rang, see ya later, Prefect!" He hums as the bell rings and he picks up his books before leaving you alone. Grim floats over and puts his hands on his hip, already complaining about trivial topics of the day…

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

The lounge’s music is akin to a medley of upbeat Jazz and pop as you sit at a booth with Finn, sadly oblivious to the cards Finn and Samuel were playing to pull the strings so you and Azul would end up together.

Sully, a second year Savanaclaw student, was working in the lounge along with Samuel, having been told about this plan and he insisted on helping because he knew exactly what to do, being well versed in the topic of love, so he says.

“How are you gonna get Azul outa his office, gonna be a bit hard…” the tray in Sully’s hand wobbles as he walks along with Samuel.

“Just wait, will you?” Samuel shakes his head.

“So…Prefect. The marine biology unit…must be hard, huh? You know, since you’re not like from this world or anything and you’re not a mer.” Finn smiles awkwardly.

“It’s not…so bad.” You shrug. “It’s definitely hard but it’s not the end of the world, I’ve been drawn the short stick plenty of times so I’ll make do, though a little help wouldn’t hurt…” you nod thoughtfully. Close enough to what they were hoping you’d say.

“Ah, that’s too bad. I’d offer to help you more after today but I’m gonna be busy, I actually have to go back home…I’m sure someone else here could help. Oh, and Sam’d be busy, too. You have another option as well…but he’s a lil more iffy…” Finn drawls on. He looks back to Azul’s office to see Sully and Samuel acting out a scene, progressing closer to you two.

“Let me guess, Azul? As much as I think we’re on good terms, I don’t know if I should bother him for something like that…it’d be nice, though. And I also don’t exactly have enough credit built up from ordering to have a consultation with him.” You smile as you stir your drink.

Just when the moment goes quiet, the two other members of the team come by, bickering with each other and gaining the interest of the rest of the customers. You glance over at them, and out of the corner of your eye, see Azul standing behind your booth, watching them.

The two stop fighting and they walk away, leaving Azul to linger awkwardly.

“Hey, Azul.” You hum, looking down and hiding your reddened cheeks.

“Hello, Y/N…” he murmurs out

“Hey, Azul! I can’t be here to help tutor them over the weekend so I was thinking maybe you could step in! I’ll work extra hours, I promise, they were telling me how hard the unit was for them—“

“I never said—“

“I was actually gonna take the Prefect out on a boat and show them some of the marine life up close, easier to learn that way!” Finn beams, talking over you.

Azul tenses and he pushes his glasses up, looking at Finn incredulously. “I…I’m busy, I wouldn’t have time.”

“Azul, I think it would be quite beneficial, no? The Prefect would get to learn and you could boast your exponential knowledge of your home.” Jade smiles as he shuffles over silently.

“Yea! Cmon, I bet Shrimpy would love it…” Floyd chimes in.

You sit staring at all of them, and you can’t help but notice a questioning gaze to Finn’s eyes.

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

It was the weekend, and the only time you and Azul had free was towards the evening, so, here you are, sat uncomfortably on a small rowboat with Azul. He uses his magic to turn the oars and you pass under trees, the fireflies dancing around on the land in a hypnotizing pattern.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. The tension in the air thick and sickening.

“Ahem…this, this here is a sea turtle…”

“I can tell.” You sigh. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, gazing at Azul who seems to be out of his comfort zone. It’s weird in a way. He shifts awkwardly and you see him gaze at the crystal blue water with a sense of reluctance.

Both of you blissfully unaware of anything else in the moment, Finn and Samuel are in their merforms, hiding along in the manatee and turtle grass, moving behind the cattails to listen in. This wasn’t going great, they knew they needed to do a little more to set the mood.

“Go time?” Finn asks.

“Go time. Now or never.” Samuel smirks and gives a thumbs up. He whips out his magic pen and he makes flowers nearby bloom, sparkling lights fill the surrounding air, and small, delicate splashes of water pop for an added sound effect.

The boat rocks slightly and with another boost of magic, the vessel is propelled forwards towards some wisteria trees along the edges of the lagoon, the purple strands of flowers reaching down and caressing the water.

Pelicans swoop by and create an opening by moving some of the long strands out of the way and allowing the boat to go on by. Samuel smiles and he slips his magic pen away, going down and grabbing some kelp to use as a baton.

“Finish the rest, Finn. Gotta make sure the wildlife around here can add in some natural music for us.”

Finn swims off with a nod and he swims around the boat, causing various rippled patterns to form on the surface.

“Does marine life usually do this?” You sigh out due out of disbelief, hunching over and looking over the edge. “It’s…oddly sweet in a way, no?” You glance back at him, leaning forwards and scooting to the edge of your seat to be closer.

“This isn’t right.” He crosses his arms, looking around with distaste.

“Oh…Never mind that, then.” You lean back. Great, now the mood was soiled again. Again, Finn just has to give a helpful push, right?

Finn sighs and he gently nudges the boat, rocking it and causing both of you to move closer, your faces merely inches apart. His glasses slip down and he looks surprised to now be so close.

You both blush and Azul quickly straightens up, coughing into his fist and gripping the edge of the boat. “Must’ve been a shark…”

“Maybe…” you murmur, nodding along to his words.

You look back at each other and you can’t help but smile at how stupid he looks. Usually he was a well put together business man, but now? He looks so out of it, stupid with his tinted pink cheeks. You scoot closer again and you fix his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear.

He turns as still as a statue and looks at you with widened eyes. “Ah…”

“Thanks for this whole thing, I guess. I bet it’s not something you really wanted to do, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” You retract your hand. “I’ve learned a good bit, and plus, I get to see this weirdly unnatural but beautiful sight with you.”

No! So close, sooooo close! Finn rolls his eyes and he decides to let the moment play out on its own for now until intervention is needed again.

He nods and he fixes up his uniform tie, looking away. “I agree…afterwards for payment, I’d suggest just working a shift or two at the lounge. Is that acceptable for your schedule?”

“Really?” Finn shakes his head yet again.

“I guess so…thanks, again.”

“It’s nothing, really. This was simply a trifle, don’t worry.” He sighs.

You both lock eyes again and a lightbulb seems to go off. You reach your hands over to his, holding them palm up and offering them to him. He responds and tentatively places his hands in yours.

“Hey…can I maybe tell you something? I just…don’t want to ruin our friendship with what I’m about to say, well, I mean if you even consider us friends, you know?” You sigh, your cheeks bright red at this point as you look down to see fish swimming by.

“Why wouldn’t I consider you that? You’re a great asset to me— I mean…more than that I suppose…” the last part of his sentence is a quiet mutter, his hands tightening around yours.

“Azul, I like you, as crazy as it is to say. I can’t really hide it anymore. I don’t know what it is about you…”

His hands tremble and he purses his lips, looking like he’d literally blow up any second now out of embarrassment, happiness, longing, yearning, relief, who knows…You wait for a response, yet a verbal one never leaves, instead he leans forwards and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Are we sealing the deal then? I dunno, sounded like something you’d say.” You smile, which in turn causes him to as well.

You both lean in, your lips centimeters apart and your eyes closed, the sweet ocean breeze and the mix of his cologne filling your senses in the best way imaginable. The moment felt surreal.

Finn giggles quietly and smiles, completely giddy as he watches the romance finally bloom and take off. He gets ready to cheer, but the cute moment is short lived as he watches two long shadows swim by in the water beneath the boat. The boat rocks then tips over, sending you and Azul both into the water.

You pop back up above the water, using your arms and legs to keep you afloat as you take a few gasps of air.

“Azul?” You huff as you look around, swimming over to the more shallow edge of the lagoon.

Azul slowly peeks his head up out of the water, his skin turned to his purple-grey hue which was common in his merform. Your eyes meet his and you relax, moving over to him.

“You ok?”

“Seems so…”

You look at him and you can’t help the bubbles of laughter that escape your mouth from the absurdity of the situation. He ducks down below.

“Hey, ‘zul, I wasn’t laughing at you…”

You take a breath and you move your head below, opening your eyes and looking at him as he sulks. You put a hand on his shoulder and he looks over at your smiling face.

“This was ruined…” the water muffles his voice and you gently tug him up, bobbing back up to the surface with your hand grabbing his arm.

“Say that again?”

“The moment. It was ruined, I wasn’t watching my magic while turning the oars…”

“No. It’s fine! I wasn’t laughing at you, just at us falling in. Geez. Come here.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you press a kiss to his lips, a small squeak emanating from his throat as his eyes widen then relax, eventually fluttering closed. He wraps his arms back around you and you can feel his tentacles grip your legs, a subconscious action of his. You both pull away after a moment, stupid fulfilled smiles on your faces.

“Do I still have to work shifts at the lounge for this?”

“I don’t suppose so…consider the kiss to be payment…”

“I’m lucky I didn’t have to sign a contract to kiss you. You’ve come a long way.” You pat his back.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d think of me to stoop that low.” He looks at you with an unamused expression.

Splashing of water can be heard from behind you and you see Jade and Floyd’s heads pop up. Floyd comes up behind you and pries you off of Azul, giving you a big squeeze.

“Awwwwww! Looky! You and Azul are so cute, but me and Jade got bored, took too long.” He giggles.

“And we thought it’d be nice of us to give you a gentle push in the right direction is all.” Jade nods along with his pointer finger and thumb gently grasping his chin.

“Thanks?” You sigh.

“Of course, Shrimpy! Heh!” He holds you tighter and does a small spin in the water. “Don’t get jealous, Azul.” He winks at him.

“You two are insufferable.” He face palms and shakes his head.

“Quite the contrary.” Jade smirks widely.

Finn and Samuel stay off in the distance, heads hung in despair. “How’d they find out?”

“I don’t know. Now they’re taking credit for our idea!”

“It was probably Sully, that loud mouth.” Samuel sighs. “Shouldn’t have let him in on the plan.

“Exactly. Your fault.”

“Mine? Don’t start with me Finn—“

(Finn and Samuel never got the recognition they hoped for…in fact Jade and Floyd got it all. How did they even hear of the plan? After catching them in the lounge the one night they did their own little investigation and discovered their plan…Sully is still blamed by Samuel…justice for Sully, y��all)

AHHHHH! I’m done! I fear I may have lost track like halfway through, but it’s ok…I like how it ended at least. Also you could tell I was getting restless while writing this cause my sentences kept getting shorter…Thanks for reading, my lovelies!

Requests are open if yall have any Valentine’s Day Ideas!

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures/GIF belongs to Disney but is edited by me :)

Bonus photo that I edited:

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goneahead · 1 day ago

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here is a (long) bit from one of the three WIPs currently in the hopper. yup, its Hallmark Christmas House Tour AU. um, sorry?

Steve had dragged himself out of bed three times. Twice to let the dogs out, once to feed them. Each time, he’d promised himself he would throw some clothes on, and go work out. Only to find himself crawling back into bed instead.

A cold nose snuffling his ear woke him for the fourth time. He cracked open one eye. “I'm up, OK? I’m up.”

Houston gave a happy woof, while Austin danced around in excited circles.

Steve sat up with a groan, rubbing his shoulder. Fuck. He hated jetlag. Of course 8IA didn’t care—they had scheduled photoshoots in three different countries in the past month. At least he had a few weeks off—and then he had to do some stupid ESPN sport thing in Honolulu.

He got up, dragged on a pair of sweatpants, stumbled to the patio door. Let the boys out, glanced at his watch. Almost eleven o’clock. He padded into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and then opened the fridge, because he was starving.

He’d bought groceries last night, but assembling any of it into something edible seemed like a lot of effort. He was still staring at the contents of his fridge, when the sound of scratching at the patio door brought him back to reality.

He went over, let the dogs in—and swore when the doorbell rang. Why was anyone disturbing him on a Saturday—oh shit. The damn interior designer.

And he was in his oldest sweatpants. And nothing else.

Damnit.

For one fleeting second, Steve considered putting on real clothes. Instead he ordered the dogs to stop barking, and padded to the door. He opened it, expecting—well, an interior designer. Instead, there was a short guy, in a dress shirt and slacks, standing on his porch.

Muscular, broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes. Exactly the kind of guy Steve would date—if he was allowed to date.

“Hi. I’m Danny Williams.” Those blue eyes flicked down to the holes in Steve’s sweatpants, back up. “My sister Stella called you yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve was really regretting not getting dressed now. He waved the dogs back. “Come in. And don’t mind the dogs. They’re friendly.”

Danny gave him an overly polite smile, stepped inside.

“Would you, uh, like coffee?” He turned around—and realized he’d just dropped his luggage in the hall last night.

��Sure.” Danny followed him, stepping around the luggage. His tone was now hovering somewhere between ‘I’m being professional’ and ‘I’m dealing with a crazy person’. “I’d love a cup.”

So much for making a good first impression.

Steve mentally kicked himself for not remembering the appointment as he headed to the kitchen. At least his kitchen was clean—because he’d ordered a pizza last night and then crashed.

He poured two cups. “You take milk or sugar?”

“Black’s fine.” Danny’s eyes now flicked to the dining room. “So, how long have you owned this place?”

“Nine years.” He started to take a sip of coffee, stopped when Danny gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“I was just—expecting more furniture.”

Steve was about to point out that he had furniture, except—he’d finally gotten rid of his two ridiculously uncomfortable couches several months ago. And he’d been so busy traveling, that he’d never replaced them.

He’d also never gotten around to buying a dining room table, because he normally ate at the kitchen island, or used the table on the side deck.

“I haven’t had a lot of down time.” The excuse sounded lame, even to him.

“Uh huh.” Danny set his mug down. “Have you eaten?”

Steve opened his mouth, but Danny continued talking. “That’s what I thought. You know, the best way to deal with a hangover is to eat something.”

And then he opened Steve’s fridge, and started pulling out various things.

Steve opened his mouth to protest he wasn’t hungover—then closed it because Danny had grabbed a knife from the knife block and a cutting board from the dish drainer, and was now chopping up a tomato.

Very competently chopping up a tomato.

Maybe it was because he was so fucking tired, but Steve was having trouble figuring out what the hell he was supposed to do. The hottest guy he’d ran into in years was doing cooking stuff. In his kitchen.

“I need a bowl.” Danny moved on to chopping up deli meat. “And a pan and a spatula.”

He found himself pulling down a bowl, grabbing a frying pan and a spatula. And setting out a couple of plates and forks.

“Thanks.” Danny pointed the knife toward one of the stools. “I got this. Sit down and drink some coffee. Or better yet, grab some water. Trust me, it’ll help.”

Steve gave up. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and sat down. “Austin, Houston, stay out of his way.”

“It’s OK, I’m used to it.” He finished chopping up everything, began breaking eggs into the bowl. “My sister has a golden retriever who’s always under foot. Whisk?”

“Second drawer to your right.” He tried to ignore how Danny’s biceps flexed as he cracked eggs. “So, uh, how did you become an interior designer?”

“Well, it turns out there are two ways to become an interior designer.” He found the whisk, started mixing the eggs. “One, you go to design school, then you apprentice with someone for a while, before striking out on your own.”

He finished, turned, and put the pan on the stove—and damn, Steve was having a hard time not staring at how Danny’s pants hugged his ass. “Or two, you graduate from the police academy, promise to serve, honor, and protect—only to wake up one day to find yourself picking chintz out of a line up.”

Steve hadn't seen that one coming. “You were a cop?”

“I was. But it’s not the best career choice if you’re a single dad, so—” He shrugged, poured the eggs in the pan. Waved the spatula at the fridge. “I’m assuming that you like pretty much anything but mushrooms?”

Damnit. Of course Danny would be straight. And have a kid.

“I like mushrooms, I just didn’t buy any.” Steve reminded himself that it didn’t matter. As long as he was under contract, he was straight.

“One omelet, with everything but not-bought-mushrooms, coming up.” Danny poked at the eggs with a spatula, then dumped all the stuff on the cutting board directly into the pan. A minute later, he expertly folded the omelet, slid it onto one of the plates.

Houston and Austin watched the entire procedure with great interest.

“Sorry, this is strictly human food.” Danny divided the omelet, placing the bigger half onto the second plate. He set it in front of Steve. “Eat.”

Steve took a bite—and had to suppress a moan. The omelet was fluffy, and full of cheese and ham and tomato. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” Danny gave him a smile—a real smile. It made his eyes look even more blue.

“So, uh,” Steve shoved in another bite, “do you cook for all your clients?”

“Nope. Just the ones that are hungover,” Danny’s smile widened as he sat down, “and the ones who don’t have any furniture.”

“I’ve been meaning to replace the couches; I’ve just been busy.”

Danny looked at him for a long moment. “Steve, why did you put your home on a Christmas tour? You haven’t finished moving in.”

You haven’t finished moving in.

The words crashed into him like a rogue wave. He’d owned the place for nine years and yet, it just felt like another hotel room. And honestly, his old condo in Honolulu had felt the same way.

Steve hesitated, then went for the truth. “Because Kono kept bugging me. She works at the—”

“—pet store. Yes, I know Kono. Apparently, a condition of my employment is that I have to buy both Christmas and birthday gifts for my sister’s dog.” He waved his fork in the air. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can withdraw from the tour, and then you can spend another nine years trying to find time to buy a couch. Or—you can run up the white flag and let us do it for you.”

Steve finished the omelet, pushed the plate away. Until thirty minutes ago, being in the same room with an interior designer was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. But maybe hiring somebody—if that somebody was Danny—wouldn’t be so bad. “The Christmas tour’s in three weeks.”

“Trust me, I know. Lucky for you, most people don’t schedule an overhaul of their house during the holidays—so we can squeeze you in.” Danny waved his fork some more. “If you’re interested, I can take some photos and measurements; get you a quote by Sunday or Monday.”

The thought pushed in that if he hired Danny, everything would be done by December 17th. Sure, he would still have to endure the three day Christmas tour, but—he wouldn’t have to worry about buying couches. Or finding time to deal with his half-finished office.

“Earth to Steve?”

“Would $78,000 be enough?” Steve had overhead someone bragging about dropping $78,000 on redecorating their place at the last party he was at. At the time it had seemed an outrageous amount—but he was so damn sick of living in hotel rooms. “To do everything?”

“That would most definitely cover it, yeah. I’m still going to give you a quote, so you’ll know what you’re paying for.” Danny pulled out his phone, checked something. “Any chance that you are free either Monday or Tuesday? The sooner we pick out some furniture, the better. That way, it can be delivered as soon as the painting is done.”

“Monday’s good.” Steve said it quickly, before he could second-guess himself.

“Great—because three weeks doesn’t give us a lot of time.” Danny finished the last bite of omelet, took another swallow of coffee. “OK, why don’t we start by having you give me the grand tour?”

Please share an excerpt from a current project

#because the world needs another McDanno Hallmark Christmas fic #not #goneahead fic #mcdanno #h50

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desperateknot · 2 days ago

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SINNER NO.5: MARIE

And I daresay that's why I love you. But maybe that's why one day I'll come to hate you.

You might find it frustrating or even terrifying to deal with most of your employees. In such cases, this Sinner can somewhat be relied on as a mediator between the management and the employees, at least when she's sober.

It would be a rare sight when she runs out of patience, but when she does, the best thing to do is to leave her alone to let her cool off.

SINNER NO. 8: QUEEQUEG

I shall die. Like foam of the sea. Never again hear the music of the waves. Never again see the pretty flowers. Never again see the red sun.

Because of this sinner's troubled past, others may struggle to trust and cooperate with her. Regardless, she is one of your most reliable employees.

You may find it difficult to communicate with her from times to times, as she doesn't usually have a lot to say. Her speech capability, tampered by [REDACTED], also complicated the matter. Although, it is unlikely that you would find the need to chat with her privately.

Sooner or later, you will realise that she has some "self-destructive tendencies." Under normal circumstances, this shouldn't obstruct your missions. But should you feel inclined to interfere, a delicate approach is highly recommended.

SINNER NO. 13: GRETE

I wouldn't have a brother anymore, then, but I could carry on with our lives and remember him with respect.

This Sinner appears amicable at first glance, but it is advisable that you do not test her patience: especially when intense emotions may cause her right arm to attack uncontrollably.

Please mind your words, body language, and facial expressions so that your attention to her right arm is not immediately obvious to her. More importantly, at all cost, do not talk about this Sinner's right arm with herself present unless it's absolutely necessary or she brings the matter up herself. She could be very self-conscious.

First batch of full bus swap Sinners. Also possibly the most reasonable and dependable Sinners batch? I will release the next batch after I'm done reading the next 3 source materials which should take...a year?

Technically I didn't finish reading Moby Dick, but conveniently, Queequeg has another source material that is very short. So I read that one. Queequeg is barely in Moby Dick anyway.

#limbus company #project moon #lcb queequeg #queequeg #art #swap au #marie the stranger #grete Metamorphosis

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writing-mlm · 1 day ago

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When Will I see you again?

Summary: After the second task, Cedric can’t keep his feelings for his best friend a secret. Things don’t go as plan after the third task, though. Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Male!Reader Wc: 5.3k tags/warnings: ravenclaw reader, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, coma, draco is a dick, HP slander a/n: obligatory I would curb stomp jkr if given the chance

The Great Hall’s entrance was filled with students, all of whom were waiting for the clock to strike eight and the doors would open. Partners from separate houses were finding each other on the edges of the crowd; thankfully you hadn’t been one of those. Ever the gentleman Cedric had waited at the top of Ravenclaw’s staircase for you. Even if he hadn’t asked you in a romantic sense and said you were going as mates. Cho had declined his offer and you weren’t all that interested in the girls at school.

No other reason.

Soon after getting to the crowd Professor McGonagall had called the champions to the front of it. You’d seen Krum and Hermione and took a second for yourself, surely the eighteen-year-old Quidditch star hadn't asked out the barely fifteen-year-old Hermione?

You didn’t feel strange in the line of pairs, standing behind Hermione but in front of Parvati. It felt right to be considered Cedric’s partner for the Yule Ball.

Cedric carefully wrapped his hand around your elbow as the rest of the students entered the Great Hall. His grip was loose until McGonagall told the champions to follow after her where his fingers tightened around your satin blazer. You felt him take a deep breath with each step, the applause from all sides felt deafening but at least most of the attention was on Harry and not the two guys walking together.

But it wasn’t as though you weren’t known together. While Cedric was known as the human embodiment of the Hufflepuff values, you were his Ravenclaw best friend. Friends since your first year after he’d helped you get the courage to get on a broom during lessons. Such good friends that other Ravenclaws stopped being surprised when you cheered for Cedric during Hufflepuff Vs. Ravenclaw games.

It’s just now you’re older and slowly growing out of the hormonal phase that awakened certain things in you. And Cedric. Although smart as you were, you were convinced he was thoroughly set on dating Cho Chang. And she's lovely, if you were into the girls at school you’d probably go for her, too.

Your eyes catch her on the dance floor, dancing with some random Gryffindor guy with a tight smile and barely hidden boredom whenever they would talk between dancing. The guy looked fine, though. Content even.

You admittedly hadn’t danced much that night, at least not nearly as much as other people did. On Cedric’s own account, he would’ve had a heart attack if he held you so close again without being able to hold you closer. He couldn’t bear staring at your face as he held you without his face turning red. How his hands would get so sweaty he’d need a second to wipe them on his shirt without you taking notice because you’d been trying to do the same thing.

So, sitting and eating was the next best thing. Laughing and talking about whatever you wanted until it was time to leave. He’d found Harry and told him about some of the tournament business while you waited at the bottom of the staircase, messing with the yellow corsage he’d gifted you at the beginning of the night.

That night he walked you back to the top of the tower and lingered behind, feeling as if he ended the night on such an open note it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

—

Anyone who’s friends with Cedric knows he wakes up an hour before breakfast. He spends thirty minutes getting dressed and then spends the rest of the time wandering about the grounds before it’s time to eat. Everyone also knows that at some point during the wandering, you appear at his side.

His routine was a little different today considering today was the second task and he was a bit anxious. This time he waited near Ravenclaw Tower for you, he’d seen most of your housemates walking past him and then one of your roommates. Cedric catches him before he can walk too far away and asks about you. Your roommate shrugs, they haven’t seen you since last night.

Now, Cedric doesn’t panic. You’ve probably fallen asleep in the library again and you’re waiting in the Great Hall. That happens about once a month. So, he goes to the hall and looks around for you. He sees the blue robes from your house but he doesn’t see you.

Now he’s a little worried. His leg bounces as he eats his breakfast, eyes focused on the hall doors before McGonagall once again gathers the champions and he’s off to the lake with Fleur and Krum. He notes that Harry isn’t there yet but that wasn’t where his focus was.

He stares into the lake, wondering where you are as his fingers dance across the yarn of your friendship bracelet made with the grace of a twelve-year-old boy.

He doesn’t catch when Harry arrives right before the task starts, his head snapping over to Bagman when his voice booms through his ears.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two…three!” A whistle echoes through the cold air, quickly drowned out by the sound of cheering from the stands.

Cedric quickly uses a bubble charm before he dives into the icy water. He fights the urge to swim back up as his body shivers, fighting against the water as he swims aimlessly in the deep gray-lit water. Fish dart past him as he swims and he panics at the sight of an arm in his peripheral when he gets closer to the bottom of the lake. There’s no one else around him, though. He double-checks and then triple-checks. He can’t see anyone— no, he squints through his bubble and sees Harry. He’s spotting whatever they’re chasing and he swims in the same direction.

He fights through the wildlife and creatures that try to attack him, namely the grindylows emerging from the weeds. But his focus is more on what he’s approaching. There’s a statue of a merperson and attached to its tail are four bound people. Fleur’s sister, Ron, Hermione, and you. All of whom look to be sleeping, heads lax on your shoulders, and bubbles rising from your mouth with each breath.

He panics— blinking wildly at the sight because he’d been so worried something happened to you and this… this was crazy. What if he hadn’t known the charm? What would’ve happened if the merpeople had turned on you? What if he didn’t make it down within the hour time frame?

(We've taken what you’ll sorely miss— that’s what the clue had said. But past an hour, the prospects black. Too late, it’s gone. It won’t come back.)

You won’t come back to him if he’s late. You’re what he’ll sorely miss and he knows they’re right. He knows deep in his heart that taking you was like taking his oxygen, taking you would destroy him in ways he couldn’t— doesn’t want to— imagine.

Somehow Harry’s already there, arguing with merpeople who stop him from freeing everyone. He tells Harry to hurry, he knows Fleur and Krum are close behind him and as much as he wants to win he also doesn’t want Harry to get anything less than second place.

He pulls out a knife from his pocket and cuts through the ropes of weed. Once his knife drags all the way through, he grabs you by the waist and swims up. He doesn’t waste his time checking on Harry or the others. He only cares that he gets you up to the surface. That you wake up.

His head breaks through the surface of the water and the cold air stings his face as the bubble pops. Immediately his eyes check on you, the voices from the sounds nothing but noise until your eyes open and you cough up some of the lake water.

“Thank Merlin,” Cedric pants and drags himself to the edge, pushing you up before he pulls himself up to the bank as well.

“You won?” You chitter, the cold hitting you all at once. Someone hands the two of you thick blankets as Madam Pimfrey shoves a hot potion down your throats that wakes the two of you up a little bit.

“I thought you were dead,” He admits, opening his blanket to let you inside. You shake your head as you sit on a bench, head resting on his shoulder because despite having slept for hours, you’re quite tired still.

“Dumbledore bewitched us to sleep, last night McGonagall asked to see me. Thought she found out about me sneaking books out of the library,” You joke to try and lighten his clearly down mood. He hasn’t looked away from you since the moment he resurfaced, his heart hasn’t stopped hammering.

He never wants to experience worry like this ever again— even if in hindsight there was never any real danger. He blinks, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek as you stare at him, worried because he hasn’t said anything aside from that. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? How he feels about you— about this? Surely that isn’t it.

Cedric is Hufflepuff’s golden boy. Truly he is Hogwarts' golden boy; he’s the kindest, most honest person to grace the infamous halls. He always has a smile on his face and he stands up for what he knows is right. But he’s afraid he hasn’t been entirely honest with you. His best friend.

He doesn’t know how to flat-out say he’s in love with you, that he has been since your fourth year.

“Cedric,” You whisper, wiping a tear from him. He’s been thinking so much that everyone has come back and he hasn’t noticed. Missed that Fleur didn’t finish the task and Harry had brought her sister up instead. “I wasn’t in danger, I’m alright.”

“I…” He blinks, holding your wrist. “I’m in love with you.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision!” Bagmen announces and you flinch but don’t look away from Cedric. Your eyes are wide and your heart thumping behind your ribcage. He doesn’t look away either, looking between your eyes.

“I have been for a while but I was… terrified seeing you down there,” He continues and you tune out Bagman until you hear Cedric’s name.

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the crowd cheer. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

“One minute off,” You whine, rolling your eyes. Cedric laughs, his forehead pressed against yours as the judges list off the remaining scores. Krum had gotten forty and Harry had gotten forty-five, putting Cedric in first place for the task and tied with Harry for first overall.

You smile at him as you tell him your findings. He just nods, his nose knocking into yours before you’re herded into the castle by Madam Pomfrey to get dry clothes. He holds your hand the whole way there, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

The two of you are put in separate rooms to change, as are the other champions and the hostages and it gives the two of you entirely too much silence and time to overthink.

Being in love with your best friend is difficult, especially if you’re queer. There’s the added layer of are they also queer? Because you know for a fact Cedric had real feelings for Cho, so he’s not gay. But there’s a plethora of things he could be… into you wasn’t one you really thought about, though. Even if you joke kissed that one time at a post-game party after a dare.

Being in love with your best friend and admitting it is crazy. Cedric spends the whole time getting changed worrying that he’s ruined everything. He’s sure he’s going to leave the room and you’re going to ignore him. That things are going to be different for all the wrong reasons but he couldn’t keep it a secret for another second. He just couldn’t. And he’s not sorry about that.

But, he’s pleasantly surprised when you’re waiting in front of the room he was changing in. Your back pressed to the wall with your hands behind you, staring at the floor until you heard the door opening. Standing up straight, you smile at Cedric and fix your jumper over your pants out of nervous habit.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” He carefully closes the door behind him while you look up and down the corridor. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm… I just…” Staring at him, you shrug. “Do you want to go on a date next weekend? Madam Puddifoot’s Tea shop, maybe?” He smiles brightly and nods all the while you try and contain your own reaction. “Cool… well… they’re also having a celebration for you winning first place after dinner. Ravenclaw’s hosting, I’m supposed to bring you,”

“So we have three hours to plan our date?” He holds his hand out for you.

“I doubt we’ll need that much time,” You laugh, taking his hand. He just shrugs and guides you to where the two of you normally hang out. “Besides, I’m taking you. You don’t get to plan anything!”

“Fine,” He dramatically sighs.

—

By the third task, you’re still not an official couple. There’s no rush on putting a label just yet, you both agreed to it when a friend mentioned that for two people going on weekly dates, you two don’t seem any closer to dating.

Besides, there’s a tournament to win.

You settled in the stands of the Quidditch field which looked completely different with the twenty-foot tall hedges that ran all the way around the edge. You spot Cedric amongst the champions as he fiddles with his wand. He spots you, too, waving as you sit next to his father and mother. You’re unsure of why you’re allowed to sit in the family stands, but it’s all the same to Cedric— easier to spot the three most important people in his life, too.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Trizward Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each— Mr. Cedric Diggory, both of Hogwarts School!” You cheer along with the rest of Hogwarts, loud enough that the birds in the forest fly away from the harsh noise.

Harry and Cedric go in first and once they disappear, you can’t see them. There’s no magical broadcast and so, you’re left in the dark of what’s happening inside of the maze. So, you talk with his parents and then Ron’s family to pass the time.

You’re unsure of how much time passed before you see Harry slam into the ground with Cedric. Everyone cheers but you squint. Surely you’re seeing it wrong, right? That’s not what you’re seeing.

“Mr. Diggory…?”

“I see it, too,” He whispers and the two of you break into a sprint down the stands. By that point, Harry and Cedric are crowded by Fudge, Mad-Eye Moody, and Dumbledore as screams echo throughout the stands.

You make it there long before Mr. Diggory does, sliding on the grass once you're close enough to reach him. He’s laid there, eyes closed and body unmoving. He looks as though he’s in pain yet still as if that’s how he…

You cup his face, sobs bubbling through your chest and out your mouth, as he lies there. Your head shakes as you examine him and Harry keeps muttering something. An explanation, apologies— you don’t know. You can’t hear anything over your sobs and the shouts from Mr. Diggory. Cupping his face again, lay your head on his chest before you feel it.

…thump….thump thump….

You gasp and sit up, checking his neck before you cry out.

“He’s alive!” You choke, pulling him into your chest and rocking him back and forth. “He’s alive!” You declare as Mr. Diggory approaches, carefully, you set him back down so he can see for himself. He checks for himself as Dumbledore calls over Madam Pomfrey and he cheers, kissing Cedric’s head and holding his limp hand tightly in his.

—

The killing curse. That’s what Harry said. Voldemort or someone had used the killing curse on Cedric after they both grabbed the portkey. He was dead. Cedric was dead for over five minutes. They don’t know what happened but he was dead one second and alive the next. You didn’t care for answers, how could you when all you could hear was the fact that he was alive?

Sitting at his bedside, you stroke his hairline as he sleeps. A coma, alive but in a coma. It was better than dead, you keep reminding yourself when you find yourself frowning at his sleeping figure. Mr. Diggory allowed for him to remain at Hogwarts, he and his wife agreed that when Cedric wakes up, he should be somewhere he’s familiar with. He’ll want to see you as soon as possible.

It’s only been a week but they’ve visited him on the weekends. You think they’re staying in a nearby inn for the time being. He looks about the same, though. He doesn’t look ill or dead. Just asleep. The magic Madam Pomfrey and medical professionals use on him keeps him alive and thriving according to them. You try to learn about it when you can but your brain is mush half of the time. The other half is replaying how he looked when he was dead.

“Would you like to comb his hair?” A nurse asks and you nod, thanking her as you grab the comb and start gently working through his hair. You tell him about your day, about classes. About how he and Harry were declared the winners of the tournament. Harry declined the trophy altogether, insisting that it goes to Cedric instead.

You glance at it on his bedside table. You’re unsure of who brought it, probably Dumbledore or something. You describe it to him, how shiny it is. How it looks like a giant goblet and you’ll definitely pour some good booze in there as soon as you can. Celebrate with him.

A part of you waits for him to talk, to fill in the caps of silence but it doesn’t come. But you still talk. You talk about how there’s some new drama in your house. About how Cho keeps asking you if he’s okay. She wants to visit but she doesn’t know if she should. She doesn’t want to impose. You laugh and ask him if there’s someone you need to worry about.

He still doesn’t answer.

Setting the comb down, you stare at him for a while before checking the time. It’s nearly dinner time but you’re not hungry. You haven’t been for a week but you still eat. You guess skipping one dinner wouldn’t be so bad so you climb into the bed next to him and lay your head on his chest.

His heart is a steady rhythm under your ear, there’s a warmth to his body that makes you want to fall asleep faster and you do.

Sometime later, when visiting hours officially end, Madam Pomfrey goes to tell you it’s time but finds you fast asleep. She sighs and debates waking you up before she decides against it. She’s not cruel.

—

“And then Snape had the audacity to assign a mountain of homework,” You grumble as you angrily eat your lunch next to Cedric. It’s been two weeks of the coma, fourteen days of spending all of your free time in the infirmary, three hundred and thirty-six hours of not knowing if Cedric is going to wake up again. You know he is. He has to. You don’t just survive the killing curse only to die in a coma. He wouldn’t do that. You know it.

Rather frustratingly Hogwarts is currently split in two on the topic. There are those who think he won’t wake up and those who know he will. No one talks about it around you, though. They’re not that insensitive, you guess. You still hear it, of course, whispers travel far, and first years aren’t all that good at whispering.

You don’t care about either side. This isn’t some weird little bet like it was with Harry and Cedric. It was weird and you’ve been slowly dealing with it. Nothing harmful, not in a way they could prove, at least. It’s hard to trace back the sudden appearance of zits forming the words Prat on someone’s forehead.

“Our professors are still giving me those sad looks,” You admit, pushing the food around with the back of your fork. “It’s like I walk into a room and suddenly all they can think about is how I’m… here? I don’t know. But they keep asking me if I'm okay and that I should sleep more.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “They’re the ones giving us crazy amounts of homework. I don’t envy the work you’re gonna do when you wake up. But I’ll be here to help you study, of course.”

The doors open and you peek behind you, seeing his parents walking inside. They look how you feel but they smile as you look at each other. You wave as you stand up to give them space with their son.

“Ah, your folks are here. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.” Squeezing his hand, you collect your stuff and leave for your dorm where you sleep until you’re woken up from your nightmare. From there, you sneak down to the infirmary and sit on the floor next to his bed.

It’s incredibly quiet inside of there. Only one other student is there for breaking a bone. She’ll be out in the morning. You find yourself hating her for that and have to stop yourself from getting angry at a thirteen-year-old for being able to walk around.

Madam Pomfrey catches you during her rounds and crosses her arms as you sheepishly smile at her. She sighs and motions you to lie down. You thank her as you lay next to Cedric but she doesn’t acknowledge it as she walks away.

—

The infirmary is cold, colder than you would’ve expected but it is starting to snow so you guess it’s to be expected. Thankfully, you’re wearing Cedric’s Hufflepuff sweater to keep you warm. It still smells like him, you don’t know why you expected it not to, but when you put it on you’re ashamed to admit you cried for nearly an hour.

“If this is payback for the second task,” You start, your voice wavering as you stare down at Cedric’s unmoving body. “It’s gone on entirely too long. Wake up, Cedric. Please,” Your voice cracks as you fall into the chair. Covering your mouth, you stare at him as he remains unmoving. You just want something, anything to prove that he’s not a husk of a person. Something other than his breathing. Maybe a cough. You’ll even take a wheeze. A sneeze. Anything.

“Merlin,” Looking away, you inhale and look back at him. “I’ll do anything you ask, promise! I’ll eat those nasty snacks you like that taste like puke. I’ll drink cold tea for a year! I’ll… it doesn’t matter what you ask as long as you wake up!” But he doesn’t move. He hasn’t moved since they set him on that fucking cot. He doesn’t stir, he doesn’t snore. He just lays there and you’re expected to be happy that he is. That the only sign he’s alive is his shallow breathing and his chest rising.

A nurse walks in for his daily medication and you don’t watch as she makes him drink it. You just hold his hand, playing with his growing nails before quietly asking for a nail clipper. He doesn’t like them long, they poke him. It also gets caught on his clothes, so he keeps them pretty low.

“Y’know what? I’m gonna paint your nails if you don’t wake up,” You decide as you’re clipping his nails. “Yup. Neon pink and green. So, you better wake up soon.” Dusting his nails off, you look at him for a sign that he’s listening. Any sign, really. But there’s none and you quietly sigh before climbing into bed next to him.

Looking up at him, you kiss his shoulder before tucking your head into his chest. It’s not dinner yet, it’s barely even lunch but you don’t want to be awake right now. You’re tired of the reminders, tired of looking at him in the white bed under the white blanket. You miss his smile and laugh that you can only see in your dreams now.

—

“I got detention for a week,” You angrily admit as you toss yourself onto the chair next to him. It’s been four weeks of him being in a coma. His hair has grown a bit, you didn’t notice until recently. “They were going to give me longer but said because of my situation it’ll only be a week.” You use air quotes as you say ‘situation’, angrily looking around as though someone was going to agree with you.

“Bloody Malfoy running his fucking mouth about you. Laughing with his little mates who have their tongues down his throat, his little lap dogs without a fucking brain! Talkin’ about you being a lost cause and a…” You stop as you find yourself getting angry again. “I knocked him out. He’s awake now, I wasn’t allowed in here until he left.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You need to calm down. Talk to him about something happier. Talk about the positives of your day.

“My parents wrote, they wish you well. They invited you and your folks over during break and said they can’t wait to see you again. Can’t wait for you to meet Tate’s little puppies. They’re the cutest and maybe your dad would let you guys keep one,” You smile at the nurse as she brings over a comb and brush. Quietly, you thank her before moving your chair closer to the bed.

“I’m not sure if you noticed but they upgraded your cot. It’s roughly the size of your dorm bed; I think they did that ‘cause I keep sleeping here.” It’s been nearly every night that you spend down in the infirmary. Students who come and go with their own injuries have mentioned it to their peers. Apparently, you cry in your sleep and it keeps them up. Although no one is blaming you for that, they’re mostly just pitying you at this point.

Combing through his hair with the brown wine tooth comb, you give Cedric his usual hairstyle and smile down at him.

“I reckon this length looks good on you, hopefully, you don’t cut it. I quite like it,” Gently brushing his hair away from his face, your lip wobbles and you force yourself to look away. “I have class but I’ll be back, I promise.”

—

Six weeks. A month and two weeks. More days than you care to admit.

He’s doing better, according to the doctor who visits on Mondays. She said he should wake up soon but she didn’t give an estimate. Soon could be a year, apparently.

Unfortunately, today has been exceptionally rough. Snake’s been a larger prick, you tanked your history quiz, you overslept and missed your whole first period, and worst of all, you waited a whole thirty minutes at your usual spot waiting for Cedric before you remembered.

Wiping your eyes with your hands, you pull your legs up to the frame of his bed and lay your head on your thighs.

“I’ve been looking for spells to get in your head,” You admit through quiet sobs. “Maybe then we could talk. I miss your voice. I miss you so much. It’s getting harder and I’m not blaming you. I know this is a good outcome, I know I should be grateful you weren’t left in that cemetery to rot. I know I should be jumping for joy because you’re alive but it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I’m losing you.” Blinking down to the floor, you chew on your bottom lip.

“Break is coming soon. They’re going to transfer you during it, so you’re not alone. I don’t know if they’ll let me sleep over still. You’ll be so far from me, too. Five hours by car, I checked. I’m sorry if I sound selfish, I keep talking about me. But I don’t know… how to talk to you right now.” Looking at him, you reach over and grab his hand.

“If you want to… go… you can. I don’t know if you’re in pain or something. I just want you to feel better, even if it means you’ll be gone.” Blinking rapidly, you tuck your head back between your legs and cry. You don’t know how long you’ve sat there like that but you get startled at the feeling of his limp hang gripping yours.

It’s not tight but you know it’s there as you look at him. His eyes are open, just barely but they’re open. You shudder at the sight, nearly falling from your chair.

“Cedric,” You whisper and he cracks a smile. “Oh Godric,” Smiling, you squeeze his hand before hugging him. Smiling into his neck, you feel him start to hug you back.

“That’s my name,” He mutters, voice dry and hoarse but it’s his. Madam Pomfrey walks over for her rounds and gasps at the sight of the two of you before rushing to send for his doctors. Slowly, you pull away and look at him. “Is there water?” Nodding, you reach over and grab your bottle from the table before giving it to him.

He struggles to sit up, giving you a pleading look and you prop him up without question. You help him drink, too, trying not to cry because he’s sitting up. He’s not laying down anymore and his eyes are open.

He’s awake and alive.

“What did I miss?” He asks.

“I spent six weeks giving you updates and you didn’t hear a single word?” You snort. “Of course,”

“Six weeks?” He echos and you slowly nod. “What happened?”

“Short story; you died and came back but you were in a coma. The long story is for later. When you’re back to normal. But you won the tournament! Uh, your parents have the trophy but I don’t doubt they’ll be here soon. They’ve come every Saturday and Sunday,”

“They do?”

“Mhmm, I left the three of you alone so I don’t know what you guys talked about.” Silence falls over the room as the two of you stare at each other.

“Were you crying?” He softly asks and you shake your head.

“Allergies, I decided playing with a cat was better than being able to breathe properly,” You lie and he doesn’t believe you but lets it slide and pats the bed. Sitting back down, he pulls you down and strokes the top of your head. Sighing with content, you look up at him and smile. ,

“I love you,” He kisses the top of your head before he speaks.

“I love you, too.” He waits for a second. “Does this mean we’re dating?”

“Yes, dork, it does,” You snort and he frowns, complaining that you’re being mean to him after he just woke up.

“Wait,” He shifts a little and you hum. “Why are my nails pink and green?”

#x male reader #x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x male reader #ravenclaw reader #harry potter fanfiction

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brain4stew · 2 days ago

Note

HIII!! I saw you take requests and I just had to send one in to ya :D you seem so cool btw but anyways here I go lolz

May I request Mafioso and 1x1x1x1 (separately) X GN! Reader general dating HC’S? Like what they would do for their partner, what dates they would take them on, basically all the things in their love life :)

Thank you if you do this!! I’ll probably send in another request once I have any more ideas, this was the best I could think of :,)

Hi hi! Tysm! You’re also cool!! 🫶🫶

Of course, do not hesitate to ask me! I’ll see what I can do and get done! Take the time you need to think, and do whatever you need to do! And please do remember to eat and drink when you can and want! 🫶🫶

(As I’ve stated in the other posts, I do not entirely know the characters personalities and so, but I will try and make them NOT OOC!)

Anyway! Headcanons under the cut! ;

(Mafioso)

• To say that you and him are dating, that’s surprising. I have no idea how you managed to do it, but you did.

• He loves you, really! He takes you on walks, to the parks, and to the stores when he has time! (Just hope that Eunoia lets him take a break that is…)

• I don’t think he’s much of a PDA person, but when he is, you might be shocked, if not happy.

• He’s quite clingy behind doors, as he knows that he’ll be safe from whatever and whoever. He’ll hug you, hold your hands, and maybe even cuddle you!

• Out in public, he’s a bit more guarded, as he doesn’t exactly know who is a threat or not. He does however, hold one of your hands at the very least.

• If he sees you’re cold, or you say that you’re cold, you can bet that he’ll take his coat off, and put it over you. You look adorable in his coat, that he sometimes finds himself just, staring, in awe.

• For dates, I think he’d rather go in private. Like lounging in your apartment, cuddling and watching movies, eating together, and maybe sleeping together! (Not the nasty kind, that’s not what this post is about…)

• If he sees you’re cold struggling with something, you can bet that he’ll be careful, and there for you. Whatever it is you’re struggling with, he’s there for you.

(1x1x1x1)

• First off all, HIM?! HOW?! WHY?! That man is basically the embodiment of hatred!

• How you two ended up dating is… A mystery to say the least. (He accidentally killed you when you took a hit for Elliot in one of the rounds, and he got hooked for some reason.)

• He is NOT a PDA person (thing?), but, behind closed doors, just drag him to a couch or bed, and he’ll go limp against you.

• Just hug, cuddle and pat his back/head, and he’ll be putty in your arms… (In secret of course!)

• He mostly prefers dates in your apartment, as he doesn’t want his minions to see you, or him, being affectionate with each other. Nor does he want other people, or, pests, as he calls them… To see either.

• This guy, I kid you not. He’ll be a menace if you and him were to watch any type of horror movies together. You can pause the movie, just to go to the bathroom, and when you get back to the couch? He’s gone. (He’s somehow behind you, so, just turn and hug him, and he’ll be stunned for a moment, before grumbling in feign annoyance.)

• Unfortunately for you, or the both of you… If you’re struggling with something, he does NOT know how to help you. As he’s quite literally the embodiment of hatred… He’ll stay by you however, but, he won’t be able to speak, or do anything when you’re struggling.

• (You can hug him if you’re struggling with something, he doesn’t seem to mind it. As long as you’re okay and happy, he’ll allow it.)

#forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox x reader #roblox forsaken x reader #1x1x1x1 x reader #Mafioso x reader #Dreamgame x reader

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irisintheafterglow · 3 days ago

Text

move like an odd sight, come out at night

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: hozier - "movement"

summary: you escape to hell's kitchen, but your reputation follows you no matter where you run. the vigilante on your roof, however, believes you're more than just a weapon.

wc: 2.9k

cw/tags: black widow!reader, canon-typical violence and blood, minor injury, explicit language, pre-ddba bc i put bullseye and fisk in this as antagonists, angst with happy ending, iris loves matt murdock's ass

note: *cautiously approaches 'marvel x reader' writing tag, sets this on the doorstep like a cat with a bird, and runs away*

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

Truthfully, neither of you were very skilled at working with other people. It’s why you were vigilantes, not superheroes; heroes worked on teams and played nice on the playground. You preferred more direct forms of getting the job done, of swinging your pink plastic shovel and beating away kids threatening to invade your square of sandbox territory. Or at least, you did in the past. As of late, you only donned your tactical gear again because unfortunately, the best hiding place you could find was truly a shithole.

“Got anything yet?”

“No. Whoever’s talking about you, they’re making a point to do it quietly,” he replies, his expression blank as his ears sort through the noises of Hell’s Kitchen trying to find a needle in a city-sized haystack. He’s crouched on the brick ledge your legs dangle off of, looming over the street below like a gargoyle guarding a cathedral. “What was your plan the other night?”

“The night where you crashed my surveillance spot, you mean,” you quip. “And the same night I made the Devil jump out of his skin.” He sends a heatless glare in your general direction.

“What I’m hearing is, you didn’t have a plan and you’re avoiding the question.” Smart-ass.

“My plan was to listen in on police comms and get some extra energy out, but there was a trespasser on my roof.” He hums, satisfied with your answer. To your unwelcome surprise, you ran into both of his identities within twelve hours of moving into your crummy little apartment–Matt at the deli down the street and Daredevil on top of your building. Both times, you also caught him off guard to the point where he nearly threw the nearest cylindrical object at you. The first time it was a sandwich, and the second time it was a baton, but you only had Foggy to save you in the shop.

You can’t go throwing sandwiches at pretty ballerinas that come into the shop, Matt, you heard Foggy say when he thought you were out of earshot.

They’re a ballerina? Foggy snorts, assuming that Matt already knew you were jaw-droppingly stunning. In fact, he was waiting for the day his best friend came out as not actually being blind and only using it to reel in women.

Yeah. You would know they were a new teacher at the studio down the street if you weren’t busy trying to assault them with pastrami.

They caught me off guard, Matt dodges. What’d you want me to do?

Not scaring them off would be a good start. Jeez, I thought you were the charming one in this duo.

“I can’t say I’m a fan of a spy who can slow their heartbeat,” he admits, finally cracking the smallest of a smile. “It’s a cool trick, but pretty unfortunate for a guy who relies on hearing the bad guys.”

“Good thing I’m not an opponent, Murdock.” Like you, he’s not used to people knowing both his vigilante and his civilian faces interchangeably. You pieced together each other’s alternate identities the moment you interacted on the roof for the first time; your mind clocked his gait, his height, and his voice while he sensed the faintest scent of perfume he smelled earlier in the deli. Because of the accidental encounter, a severe lack of information regarding your new home, and a few other reasons you were purposefully hiding until the need arose, you begrudgingly asked Matt if you could run surveillance with him. He agreed, shrugging and asking if there would be people trying to come after you.

A buzzing in your pocket grabs your attention and you scowl when you see the dollar sign notification with a hefty amount of zeroes. “Problem,” you huff.

“What is it?”

“He put a bounty on my head.” The muscle in Matt’s jaw clenches. “Said to bring me in alive, thankfully, but I guess he doesn’t like I’ve been ghosting him. He also didn’t verify how alive I had to be.”

“He’s used to getting what he wants,” Matt explains with severe distaste. “Fisk isn’t a kind of guy you say ‘no’ to. Last guy who tried to tell him something he didn’t like–”

“Got well acquainted with a car door,” you finish unexpectedly. “Intelligence community, remember? We hear everything, including the brutal executions. It’s why he wants me in the first place.”

“A Widow in his pocket’s like having the Winter Soldier for a genie.”

“Ex-Widow,” you correct. “You know, I met the guy once. Big metal arm. Scary blue eyes. Not my type, especially the greasy hair.”

“Oh?” Matt allows amusement seep into his tone, despite the fact that your freedom just had a price tag put on it. “And what is your type?” You loose the first thought in your head like an arrow straight into his heart.

“A blind vigilante with a ton of Catholic guilt really get me going,” you answer casually and bite back a smile when he tries to hide his speechlessness. “I figure it’s easier to explain my history to him than Martin the accountant living a few doors down. Plus, the vigilante’s got a nicer ass.”

“I’ll bet,” Matt remarks and you allow yourself to feel the flutter in your stomach at his softer tone. You weren’t used to having a friend, let alone a friend who would help make sure you weren’t used as a weapon again. It didn’t hurt to flirt with him, just a little bit.

His head suddenly jerks to the side, concentrating. “Found ‘em.”

“Where?”

“Warehouse six blocks down. Fisk’s best prepping for a hunt.” A chill runs through your body and you exhale slowly through your nose to center yourself. It’d been months since you were freed from Dreykov’s mind control, weeks since you first arrived in the Kitchen, but the need to fight for your life was something that would never disappear. It constricted your throat, blurred your vision, and made your palms too clammy to hold a knife. Without the one-track-mind of a Red Room assassin, you found yourself able to feel fear…and it terrified you. “You alright?”

“Peachy,” you deadpan, your voice no longer melodically carefree.

“You’re not telling the truth,” he says and you swallow thickly. “It’s the one time I hear your heartrate go up, when you’re afraid.” Up until now you would work exclusively solo and you’re unfamiliar with someone who would call you out when you were scared. Your defenses raise immediately.

“Yeah. What about it?” He takes your standoffish nature in stride, rising from his crouched position and holding out his gloved hand to help you from yours. You take it with only a moment’s hesitation and let him give it a comforting squeeze.

“You’re not fighting alone anymore, you know. As long as you don’t shoot me, I’ll have your back if you have mine.” You nod and even if he can’t see it, it’s mostly for yourself anyway. “Unless, of course,” he continues with a shit-eating smirk, “you’ve got another blind vigilante in mind you’d rather–”

“Alright, Murdock. You’re done,” you chuckle, feeling more at ease. “Let’s get this done quickly; I’ve got class tomorrow.”

—

The confrontation could barely be considered a fight, and you easily would handle them on your own had Matt not been with you. Though, it was much faster having four fists throwing punches instead of two.

“You didn’t use the guns at all,” he notes once you’re both done knocking out and disarming the three dozen enemies in the warehouse. Catching your breath, you stick your batons in the sheaths on your back and shrug.

“You’re the one who said not to shoot you,” you point out.

“I appreciate the thoughtfulness.” His head tilts and you watch him listen to the labored breathing of a nearby thug. “One’s still conscious. I’ll get him.”

“He’s all yours.”

He stalks toward a guy who you would’ve assumed was unconscious and grabs him by the collar to reveal him very much awake. “Why’s Fisk after them so badly? Answer,” he hisses, “and I won’t break your hands.”

“I’ve found they talk if you dislocate their shoulder,” you suggest nonchalantly, your voice muffled under your mask. The guy’s eyes dart over to you, wide and bloodshot with fright. “Then, relocate it but slightly misaligned. Makes a weird kind of friction if you swing it back and forth.” Matt visibly pauses, considering your stomach-churning advice for a good ten seconds. He wasn’t used to working with others, let alone someone with your skillset; it was like having a slightly more stable Elektra, and that wasn’t much of an improvement. He doesn’t have time to act on your words, though, because suddenly the dam of information in the guy breaks.

“He’s scared of you!” The man exclaims and your eyes narrow.

“Scared of who?”

“Both of you,” he squeaks and looks back at you. “You were supposed to kill the Daredevil, not team up with him, you deceitful bitch!” Shit. Matt’s body goes deathly still.

“Fisk hired a Widow to kill me?” He asks lowly. Shit!

“He tried. That’s why he’s pissed.” The scene feels frozen, like a snowglobe on a high shelf. You didn’t necessarily feed Matt a lie; you rejected Kingpin’s offer the same night you went up to your roof, looking for a way to punch out your anger. “And you weren’t supposed to get involved,” he spits on the cowl and it’s the last thing he says before Matt knocks him out cold.

You stare at his back while he stands, your muscles tensed and ready to retreat or fight, however he reacts.

“You can take your hand off your gun,” he says without looking at you and your attention flicks down to your hands. You hadn’t realized your fingers found the cool metal on pure instinct. They feel naked without access to any immediate weapon.

“Are you upset?”

“Why would I be?” He turns to face you squarely. Every nerve in your body wants you to run, but you root yourself into the floor because your mind can’t understand how this so-called ‘friend’ could ever hurt you.

“Because I was supposed to kill you. Your archnemesis wants me to kill you.”

“And you didn’t,” he states patiently. “Your heart is racing.”

“I’m waiting for you to attack me, so I’m not sure what you expect,” you reply carefully. Puzzlingly, his posture remains relaxed, and it’s impossible to read what he’s thinking. “I lied to you. Aren’t you angry?”

“Why would I be angry for actions you didn’t take?” You blink and look down, suppressing your reflex to bolt when he approaches you until his boots are in front of yours. He murmurs your name, so quietly that only you can hear it. “I’m not Dreykov. You don’t need to plan an escape if you do something I don’t agree with. You’re your own person now.”

“Am I?” You whisper. “I get out, and yet I still feel like I’m nothing but a weapon.”

“I don’t think you’re a weapon.” Your body is still stiff as a board, waiting for a berating or a beating that won’t come.

“Then what am I?”

“A friend.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but a flash of movement catches your eye in the doorway you used to enter the warehouse. Acting on its own, your body shoves Matt to the side as an object goes flying past you and a stinging sensation blooms on your upper arm. You duck behind a storage container and find that your self-proclaimed ‘partner’ has disappeared into the shadows. Warmth drips down your arm and you remove your gun from its holster for the first time that night, steadying yourself.

“Alright, Widow. The boss is mad, so let’s not keep him waiting,” your assailant announces, his voice echoing off rusted metal walls. You hear him make a noise of disgust and kick something solid. “You left a shitshow to mop up, too. I thought you people were supposed to be clean killers. Quick with your target, just like me.” You fight through the adrenaline and finally piece together his identity with one word: target.

“Fuck off, Poindexter. I’m not going,” you snarl and immediately change positions to avoid a small knife that moved with the precision of a homing missile. The blade lodges itself in the metal where your head used to be and you don’t bother trying to yank it out. “Missed.”

“That was a warning, darling.” Creeping carefully from container to container, you catch the reflection of his nearly-identical Daredevil suit in the broken glass on the floor. It crunches beneath his feet as he paces leisurely, waiting for you to reveal yourself. “Let’s go, Widow. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just you and me here.” He thinks it’s just you.

He doesn’t know that Matt is here.

“How do I know you’re not gonna kill me when I step out?” Another phrase, another quick change of positions.

“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be alive to mouth off.”

“You say that with such confidence.”

“This confidence is turning to impatience, so let’s go. Don’t make me take you in struggling,” he warns.

“Fine, but don’t throw anything at me, asshole,” you say with as normal of a voice as you can muster, reholstering your gun and stepping into the exposing moonlight. “Entrance in the front’s too exposed. There’s an alley out back we can go through unseen.” Without another word, he follows you to the rear doors and, for once, you’re relieved for your heart to be beating out of your chest. You figure it’s easier for Matt to track your movement.

“Fisk is pissed about your little tantrum the other night, but enough groveling will get you back in good graces.”

“Like I care about that,” you retort.

“You should. He won’t stop hunting you.”

“If he does, I’ll come after him myself.” You step out of the warehouse and the top half of your face is hit with frigid air. He was lurking somewhere, you could sense it. A small rectangle of paper crinkles under the toe of your boot and you peer down at it, smiling when you recognize the familiar font of Nelson, Murdock, & Page. “I’m not an asset anymore, Poindexter,” you declare once you’re both shrouded in the dark alley. “And I don’t fight alone anymore.”

Your stealth training takes over, slowing your heartrate and disappearing from his senses, if only for a moment. Before Poindexter can attempt to find you, there’s a whoosh of air in front of you and the sound of gravel beneath another pair of boots. Matt doesn’t give his enemy a chance to grab any projectiles, bruised knuckles striking in the darkness while you slip behind and knock out his legs.

When your enemy regains consciousness while slumped on the wet asphalt, there is no trace of the Daredevil or the Widow to be found.

—

Your students catch wind of your fondness of the ‘hot lawyer down the street’ a few weeks after you move into his apartment, and Matt doesn’t do much to keep your relationship a secret.

“Let’s, uh,” your voice trails off when you see him enter the studio for the first time, his mere presence making your cheeks outrageously hot. “Let’s run that combo one more time and call it a day, yes?” Your students follow your eyeline to the man waiting for you by the door and they all perk up at the same time, dancing with near perfection that makes you wonder if Matt should show up at the end of all your classes.

“Hope it’s alright I came to walk you home,” he greets with that easy smile that sends all sense of reason into the atmosphere.

“You were a definitely a distraction, but considering that we call the same place ‘home,’ I’ll let it slide,” you reply. His hands pull you by your hips and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your forearms resting on his shoulders.

“Can we go out tonight?”

“Don’t we always?” You ask, confused. “We’re out so much where I think our collective sleep hours are in the negatives.”

“Not on patrol,” he corrects. “Let me take you to that place you’ve been wanting to try. The one with the rotating pie stand.” Your mouth gapes. If there was someone who had a worse work-life balance than you, it was your boyfriend. Yet here he was, recommending you both skip patrol. “I wanna give you a proper date. Please?”

“Since when are we allowed to take nights off, Murdock?” You tease.

“Since I made a deal with Spiderman to swing through the Kitchen once a month,” he drawls, attempting to kiss you and frowning when you gently pull back like you’ve offended him. “Sweetheart.”

“You can’t kiss me until you tell me how you managed to pull off a deal with Spiderman.” His forehead creases above his red-lensed glasses.

“I called in a favor.” You know he can hear the skepticism on your face. He exhales before continuing, “I told the kid I’d proofread his friend’s job application. Some opening as a photographer for the Bugle.”

“You tell him you were a lawyer?”

“I told him I’m a very good lawyer.” The last of your students wave goodbye, their eyebrows waggling as they leave the studio.

“Well, counselor, if it is your professional opinion that we should go on a date tonight, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“God, I love you as a partner,” he breathes.

“For romance or vigilantism?”

“Both.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n

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hawker-the-gary · 12 hours ago

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Hawk, you doing okay? You haven't posted an Incipere page in a while.

Hey, things have been busy and...now very chaotic. So I'll take the chance to respond your question to make two announcements, one that people on my patreon already know:

I'm working on a new comic project! It'll be a one shot with over 70 pages and I've been working on it non stop for the past month or so. I'll be honest here, Incipere is not doing well, it has very little engagement, very low update rate due to it being colored, and I know a lot of people don't find it as fun to read since it's an extremely flawed series. In turn, I also don't enjoy working on it as much as I used to either. It makes sense I mean, I wrote it when I was 16, it makes sense I've changed the way I tell stories now, heh.

So, I'm taking the chance to work on something new, something that I know I will enjoy at the very least. Even if it doesn't get lots of support, I'll be happy that I was able to finish something that I feel satisfied with. I don't plan on abandoning Incipere though! I just feel like I need to make a step forward to improve as an artist and story teller.

-Now, for the second announcement. This one is more important than the first as it happened so recently.

A lot of people may know about my little sister, and I'm heartbroken to say that she passed away this weekend...

It happened so suddenly, it was something everyone in my family knew it would happen due to her complicated health issues, but even then...one is never truly ready for these things when they actually happen. I can say that she passed away peacefully. Because of everyone's support via commissions and patreon, and even sharing my art, it all helped so that my sister could have the best quality of life she could.

Thanks to this platform, my sister's medical expenses were paid whenever our insurance wouldn't cover everything, I had been able to make hospital trips, buy medication, donate my own blood so she could live another day. It was all thanks to you.

I know I said I was working on a new project, but my sister's passing hit so suddenly, so hard, that I need to take my time to be with my family and friends. It's ironic, because my new project has elements of loss and grief as part of its main theme.

I apologize that I don't have the strength right now, I'll come back for sure, but right now my heart is shattered, and picking up a pen is hard.

Thank you all for your patience, I'll come back <3

#announcement

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sweetheartsnips · 1 day ago

Text

Saiyans x Virgin Reader HCs

In honour of me being back on tumblr after like 6 years here are some short HCs for my fav Saiyans x virgin reader that I threw together while eating lunch.

Not inherently explicit but 18+

A/N : you can probably expect more of this kinda stuff from me in between my more substantial stuff on ao3 from now on because I am possessed and have too many thoughts.

Goku

Goku has quietly been waiting for you to bring up the topic for quite a while. He has tried to be subtle (but if Goku is anything it is definitely not subtle) with touches that linger a bit too long to innocent: squeezing your hips, thigh holding that goes a little too high, and eyes that wander over your body with that hungry look of his. Of course, he would be patient, just for you, and would wait until you were comfortable enough giving yourself to him in that way.

“Really? We can do that? Can we go and do it right now?”

Goku would get lost in the opportunity to show you how much he likes you in such a physical way. He works with his hands, after all.

He would get so distracted– he would be so excited just for foreplay. Running his hands over your body greedily, going down on you like the himbo glutton he is. He would be so happy just like this, he would almost forget about the main event.

A very vocal partner. Mostly just gibberish about how soft and wet you are, and how pretty you look. He would go all out to make you feel good (he has crazy stamina) and would make you scream at least a few times.

Vegeta

Vegeta by nature is confident, dominant and has control of the entire situation. He wouldn’t ever tell you, but he has planned everything out to minimise any risk of disappointing you. He wants your first time to be perfect so as to not bruise your image of him.

He is also quite possessive, and the thought that you are trusting him and him alone with this feeds his pride immensely.

He is quite cocky, but also has the ability to please you to back it up.

“I’m the only one that can give you this, let me take care of you.”

Would tease you for hours beforehand if you let him: it amuses him to see you squirm and beg. He can read your body like a map, exploiting all of your sensitive spots.

“You’ve gone from so demure to so needy, I’ve ruined you already, haven’t I?”

He wants you to think you’re lucky for having the opportunity to be intimate with a prince, but he actually feels grateful that you’re allowing him to be your first.

Gohan

Gohan would be incredibly flustered when you ask him to be your first.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disappoint you..”

Although ever humble, he is so flattered that you would choose him to take your virginity. He would take you on a date beforehand, give you oodles of affection and make sure the occasion is as comfortable and relaxing for you as possible.

Surprise! Once he is in bed with you he becomes a mess. Little whimpers and moans, his skin flushed but cool with sweat as he presses his body against you.

“You feel so good…you look so perfect. Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Is entirely focused on you, and doesn’t draw things out for too long. He wants to please you, to be good for you.

He watches your face closely, using your expressions and sounds as a guide, slowly becoming more and more sure of himself. Once he is sure you’re enjoying yourself, he finds it much easier to slip and lose himself in his own pleasure.

Gohan also gives the best aftercare ever.

Future Trunks

Trunks is a gentle lover, as gentle as they come. When you ask him to be your first, he would be over the moon, and excited to show his affection for you.

“I promise I’ll make it good for you. We can do everything exactly as you want.”

Trunks would worship your body with caresses and kisses beforehand, taking things slowly to build your anticipation and show you how much he cares. His touch would be gentle, full of love and reverence. He doesn’t get the chance to show you often, between time travel and all.

He would take you in missionary, cupping the side of your face and get lost in your pleasure-dazed eyes. As he senses your growing need, his touch will gradually become more firm and confident, feeding off of the way your body takes him.

Trunks also moans pretty.

“It’s like you were made for me…I’m so lucky.”

Afterwards, Trunks would hold you close, letting you rest against his muscly chest. Forehead kisses, savouring your smell.

“Thank you for being mine.”

Broly (Super)

Broly is initially confused.

“Your…first? First to do what?”

When you sheepishly explain to him he goes as red as a tomato. It seems it would be his first time too.

Your size differences would make things a little awkward to navigate first, but you end up being most comfortable underneath him, caged underneath his hulking body. He likes to have you like this: as if he is keeping you safe and shielding you from the world. Despite his imposing demeanour, he is a blushing mess– nervous and afraid of messing up.

Broly lets you take the lead a bit. He is very careful in foreplay, letting you guide him to ensure your safety and comfort. He is a little afraid of hurting you, and this is reflected in his timid actions, but he soon comes out of his shell with your reassurances.

He loves the taste of your skin, the warmth of your body. He is so touch-deprived that with each little brush of your skin against his he has to stifle a whine.

Broly finds it difficult to find the right words to say, instead choosing to show you how much he enjoys you with his hands.

#dbz headcanon #dragon ball z x reader #dbz x reader #goku x reader #vegeta x reader #gohan x reader #trunks x reader #future trunks x reader #broly x reader #kakarins #vegerins #hanrins #trurins #brorins

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holocene-sims · 10 hours ago

Text

next // previous

june 3, 2022 2:00 p.m. newcrest counseling

"i'm really happy to hear you think you worried too much, but what makes you say that? did you feel differently than you expected?"

"i did, actually. as i've figured out over the last week, doing the work to become a healthier person means i know how to better manage negative emotions. i often still default to seeing myself as the person who just falls apart as soon as i feel any emotion less pleasant than neutral. at first, when i was on the plane and then in my hotel room alone, i was battling negative thoughts, but i turned it around pretty quickly. to be honest, that was weird. i'm so used to having to completely lose it before i can recover. recovering at the first very tiny peak in severity is almost a miracle.

finding the good things, however small, to focus on last weekend was what helped me revert my mood and stop feeling icky before icky became horrendous. the negative thoughts on my mind, i redirected to the best of my ability. like, for example, okay, if i never fly an airplane again before i die, i'll just be thrilled i could do it for a few years. a few wonderful years is better than zero years. little kid grant never thought he'd survive past 18, let alone follow his dreams. if time travel were possible and i could go back and tell grant kid he flew an airplane one day, he'd never fucking believe it. so, i already won. nothing can take that away.

on that note, i'm historically not the best at being open to good things or experiences. i'm at least prone closing myself off to relishing them once they're over. i spent so long being lashed by the world with no end in sight that i don't trust goodness, you know? i expect people to get fed up with me or to hurt me. i expect the universe to screw me over. i also believe i don't deserve goodness, and i've thrown away good things myself for that reason alone. i think i'll struggle with those specific thoughts for a very long time, but i do know that i am learning move past them. i'm learning to believe i deserve better and to appreciate things more and to extract what i can from my experiences.

i realized i was moving past those thoughts for the first time after dealing with my ex and then cutting off my dad for the second time, but especially after my dad, and now i'm confirming the changes. i felt like hot garbage for weeks after that final conversation with him because i just did. reminding myself of how truly horrible he was as a father hurt, but after a while, i was glad i told him the truth, and suddenly, i had much more appreciation for the male figures in my life who were or are kind to me. a burden was legitimately lifted off my shoulders, and old me would have never managed to find anything positive in that situation, so the fact that current me did says a lot. if i can find something positive there, i can find something positive anywhere.

but hey, i'm not even getting to the most fulfilling part of why i felt differently than i expected. the wedding was genuinely great, and i ended up wasting no substantial amount of time absorbed in my own feelings, so i got to be present with my friends. even when i was pretending my trauma didn't exist years ago, i spent so much time stuck in my own head or my own body, always filtering every personal conversation through that lens, and you don't get how much energy and attention that soaks up until you can be fully present with people. of course, it helps that i knew all these people and knew i could relax and trust them, but still. it felt good to be able to devote my entire attention to celebrating them and their lives and not have split it between them and my own exhausting thoughts."

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #holocene.docx #holocene.png #hlcn: grant #hlcn: margot #hehe the new arc is pretty much entirely set up now #i know some of this technically happened off screen but so much of grant's progress happened on screen that this update is still logical

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midnightshindig · 21 hours ago

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pssst thinking about rex splode x reader with powers similar to poison ivy... imagine them being the sweetest person alive and making him sweet flowery gifts 🙏 or gifting him any other plants since rex is into home decorating and "oh but this orchid would fit so well!"

Rex Splode x Poison Ivy! Reader

Gn reader!

(Also omg sorry if this is a little ooc, we hardly see Rex being soft and like… romantic… so I’m doing my best lol)

You’d been his most frequent visitor at the hospital, right up there next to Mark and Eve, often spending the day watching the two come and go about their business as you sat and chatted with them

Youve taken to leaving potted plants in his hospital room, making him whatever flowers or plant you think would liven up the dull, sterile space.

One time you take it a bit too far and Cecil chews you out for the full blackberry bush in a hospital

“but he waned blackberries, Cecil! The man doesn’t have a hand, can’t he at least have some blackberries?” gotta hit him with the puppy dog eyes

it works.

when Eve started bringing in home decor magazines, you were surprised by how quickly Rex took to them

like one minute he was all “these potted ferns are gay” and the next he’s describing his dream kitchen in AGONIZING detail

so it’s not surprise that when he gets out and gets home to Guardian hq, he’s all over fixing the vibes of that bitch

Your in the kitchen making some coffee and he comes up behind you, arms around your waist from behind and head on your shoulder like:

”Yknow I think some hanging ivy would look great as a trim in this room, don’t you think?”

Hes almost a little relentless

You’re out in public and he’s dragged you to a home goods and he’s looking at fake plants, googling what they are and asking you very politely(?) to make replicas

The immortal actually gets onto him a little about this

”Rex, we are superheroes among superheroes-Defenders of justice and the innocent, protectors of-“

He’ll be damned if he’s risking his life every day and the dining room table doesn’t have a vase of flowers god damnit

and there is no amount of menace that’s gonna change his mind

”Look me in the eyes and tell me my beautiful wife-“

oh yeah he thinks it’s hilarious to call you his wife as a bit, regardless of your gender

“- doesn’t make the whole place brighter with their plants! This is the first time this place has been decorated with anything other than blood, so can it!”

Everyone in Guardian HQ just like :0

he doesn’t care he loves you and your plants

He takes you on garden dates, like the fancy ones with butterflies and arches and shit

He takes you to home goods. A lot.

ik I mentioned it earlier but it really is a lot

Like you have to tell him to please stop picking home goods for his turn to plan a date

Rex please I can’t do this anymore omg

you go to ikea instead

this is kind of out there but he gets really into scrapbooking, too

like scrapbooking potential interior designs

by cutting up old magazines

He loves to show you his latest I’ll-perspective Frankenstein-esque room

at least he has a hobby that isn’t misogyny or murder or beer

You can’t really find it in you to be anything other than endeared

Being with Rex is a lot like being with your high schools star quarterback, in that he’s abrasive and cocky to a fault

but he never uses this against you, instead you become another thing for him to brag about

”Rexxxxx, whatre you doing?”

he’s taking selfies with you on your date and IMMEDIATELY posting it to his finsta

“Whaaat! I just want everyone to see how hot my partner is, we gotta bless their lives with our hotness, our combined hotness, Y/n, think of the combined hotness!”

you laugh and tuck a freshly-formed daisy behind his ear

Oh that’s another thing: he loves when you braid flowers into his hair

this goes with the hair braiding thing from last time, this man is having a Tangled moment and nobody is going to stop him

All the women on the team think you’re a good influence on Rex, as well as Mark and Eve

The Two of you had only started dating during season two, and everyone was lowkey thrilled it made Rex be slightly less of an asshole

I mean come on, how could he ever be mean in front of you? With your big eyes and soft smile

he just didn’t have the strength

UNLESS he was fighting

there have been a few times where you’ve been pinned in a fight, and Rex’s life flashes before his eyes

full on s2 lobotomy bullshit like villains WISH this man would die

but he can’t die because his like… one true love or wtv is in danger five feet away

he just can’t resist being your knight in shining armor

Unrelated but since meeting you he likes formal wear more

Because you make him custom, special uh. Fuck. Whatever the guy corsages are called. Those.

you make him those.

He never got to go to high school or prom or any real fancy event

so when the GPA has a charity ball he EATS UP the opportunity to have you make him a fancy flower thing

Your outfit is gorgeous and he tells you this, spinning you around and stuff

he may not have super strength but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t throw you around

mr “I don’t work out to save the world, I work out to princess carry my partner”

and he does

Bro Probably Princess carries you to the ball, and in day to day life as well

people are like “Rex wtf” and he threatens to fight them right then and there

luckily almost everyone else thinks you two are cute

and how can Cecil disapprove of someone making Rex so happy and focused on being a better hero

BONUS

his favorite flower is the Firework Gomphrena

due to its resemblance to a pink firework

You surprised him with these one day after a firework display for you and he lost it/pos

God he’s down bad for you

#invincible #invincible show #rex splode #rex sloan #writers on tumblr #rex splode x reader #poison ivy #x reader #reader insert #x you #gender neutral reader #rex is a pyro im not taking no for an answer #Bro probably lights trashcans on fire or smth #Fucking wild #invincible cecil

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twice-in-a-blue-moon · 1 day ago

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what are your thoughts on having a threesome with two solomons (or even more)? for example, i've seen fics with past (nightbringer) solomon or a dream world version. i'd love to hear your perspective on it.

(also bc original solomon is still a jealous mf no matter what and the fics literally make him jealous of his other selves and i find that hilarious)

Minors DNI!

I loved seeing those fics and hcs of past! and present! Solomon threesomes when they started coming out. Like, it's such a Solomon thing, you know? I feel like it'd be easier to share you with himself instead of someone else if either of you were interested in having a third (or more) party in the bedroom. Like you brought up, he is a jealous guy but the only thing I think he'd have to be "jealous" of with his past! self is that he doesn't know or love you the way present! Solomon does. If anything, maybe he feels sympathy that past! Solomon won't get to know your love until the future (yikes, time stuff is confusing, huh?), or even anger that past! Solomon might only see you as a one time fuck (this depends on how you hc his past).

Though I think I like the idea more that when confronted with another version of himself, he gets competitive. Who could better pleasure you: the man that went back to the past to protect you and has memorized every little thing about you or the man that's aloof and doesn't allow himself to attach easily? I think you'd get the best of both Solomons in that case.

With present! Solomon, he may take his time with you, fucking you in your favorite positions, and putting your pleasure above his own. With past! Solomon, he may be rougher thanks to his confidence in his experience, though still curious to explore you to see what riles you up, and makes sure you walk away feeling breathless and weak. Put both of them together to pleasure you at the same time -- wow, it'd be like whiplash as they both do their thing in order to please you while trying to one-up the other.

I also like to think that for past! Solomon, this is an awakening for himself. Not only is seeing a future version of himself smitten with a mortal a bit jarring, but he can't deny the feelings that you conjured within him as he spent this time with you. Kind of like how in game the other characters were influenced by their past or present selves when it came to you (during and after the time travel), I like to think past! Solomon would experience the same effect. And when the threesome is over, or when you and present! Solomon go back to your original timeline, he find himself missing you. He waits thousands of years in the hopes of meeting you all over again (kind of like Howl Pendragon) continuing to grow his power to suppress the yearning he feels. The years drudge on and you become a distant dream, a foggy memory until he spots you in the RAD halls for the first time and instantly recognizes you...and maybe that's the real reason he knew your name upon first meeting.

And no, I totally didn't read over the dreams fic comment and now am adding this here... Of course not...

ANyways, I feel like most of what I said previously could be applied to dream! Solomon, assuming at least one of them is actually the real him invading your dreams. Maybe he observes to gains insight on what you really want in the bedroom or something he could do better outside of the dream. If not and they're all a figment of the subconscious, then I guess MC needs to analyze their dreams and realize they want to fuck Solomon, lol.

#i feel like this is all over the place lol #sorry about that #this was a fun subject to dive into especially about past! solomon meeting you in the future again #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me suggestive #blue moon mail

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washthatheartoutwithsoapy · 6 hours ago

Text

☆ Natalie Scatorccio SFW Alphabet Headcanons ☆

Warnings: cursing, substances

A/n: my first real Tumblr post, so sorry if my rambling writing sucks

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Natalie loves affection once close. I think it's safe to say she didn't get much affection from her parents, so when she got with you, she couldn't get enough.

She not as affectionate in public, but she'll still hold your hand and fiddle with fingers. When you're alone, like lying in your bed, she will be physically on top of you. She'll trace your skin and twist your hair, and give little kisses.

She's also an amazing listener.

She gives you really shitty gifts, like random stuff she finds on the literal street. Like a little chiped dino, or a note written on a random card she stole from her dad's old deck (oops).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

A friendship with Natalie would probably start with bonding over music or just you always showing up. You'd definitely have to work hard to be friends with her, not because she doesn't want to be friends, but cuz she's not very open. Once you're close, she never thinks it's real, and she'll act nonchalant, but she really loves you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

DEFINITELY A CUDDLER. Like I said earlier, she will lay on top of you, all sprawled out. She likes laying between your legs with her face buried into your stomach, while you mess with her hair. Or if you need to be held, she'll be big spoon, and when I say her arm and legs are around you tight, I mean tight. There is not moving. Her face will be in your neck and her hand on your stomach.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Her idea of being settled looks a lot different than others. Being settled with her would look like a beat up place, probably apartment, with you, with a job that gets things paid, but still leaves time for you. She doesn't need a luxurious place, it's not what she's used to.

Cooking, she's alright. She aways had to fend for herself and make food, but its nothing special, and its normal for it to be a little burnt with her.

Cleaning does not exist to her. I mean, she's not disgusting, she changes her sheets and sweeps, but it is not organized. Clothes, makeup and other various shit all over the floor, the bed is never made, and a grimy ass mirror, etc.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would probably break up when she's pissed, at you, something else, or both, and storm away. She definitely regrets it and her methods.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

At first they hate the idea of commitment, but then she falls in love with you for the first time and she'll give you everything.

I don't think she give a shit about being married, but that doesn't mean she isn't committed. After a few years if you really wanted to get married, she'd do that for you, but in her head she doesn't get marriage or deem it necessary.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She's definitely a rough houser, but she never hurts you, at least not on purpose. One time you were messing around and you hit your leg on your nightstand and got a huge bruise. She could not stop apologizing, she felt so bad. She's also gentle with you, with soft touches, especially when she's high.

Emotionally she's surprisingly gentle. If your upset, she there and supportive. She doesn't say much, just listens and hugs you, or anything else you need.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Natalie loves when she gets hugs. She's either really excited, with a big grin on her face, or she's burying her face in your shoulder. Those last awhile.

I don't think hugs are everyday, but whenever she needs it or you need, there's definitely hugs. Or when she's won a game, celebratory hugs!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not quick. She's too scared to say it. So either you'd have to say it first and she would blush and say, "Love you too..." Or it will come out during some happy moment, and she didn't even mean to say it. She's so happy when you say it back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Natalie is not a jealous person. When Jackie and Travis hooked up, the only thing she gave a fuck about was his well-being. Not to say if you were flirting with someone she wouldn't be jealous, she'd probably be more sad than anything and worrying she did something wrong.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

You definitely get the taste of alcohol and pot, which isn't always the greatest, but you get used to it. The skill makes up for it, she knows exactly what to do for the mood, but she usually takes it slow. Sometimes she breaks though and giggles.

She obviously loves kissing your mouth, but also: your neck, jaw, stomach, and shoulders.

She likes kisses on her: mouth, neck, forehead/head, cheek, and back.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She's not very acquainted with Kids, and has never wanted them. But one time you guys were out and found a kid that got separated from their mom. You'd never seen her so gentle and caring while you looked for their parents. She gave them a little paper star.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Asleep, she'll stay in bed as long as possible, especially with you. She's definitely right up against you, hogging the bed, and her breath is terrible. Her eyeshadow also smudged, cuz she never takes it off before bed.

Once she's up, she's in the bathroom all morning, doing, God knows what. No breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddling and smoking. She smokes almost every night, because it helps her sleep. Sometimes you guys go out an just walk the streets or go to the park and just talk and take pictures with your shitty camera. The night always ends with passing out in whatever shirt she'd been wearing all day, sometimes she's still in her jeans.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

She's not someone to drop her whole past on you immediately, its something that gradually happens. You figure out her family life pretty quickly though since she struggled with letting you come over after what happened with her dad. If you ask her something, she'll answer, maybe not immediately, but she will when she's ready.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

They don't get angry at you often as long as you don't make assumptions about her. If you say something that upsets her, she will make it known. She doesn't get mad for no reason though, even if she can get a little aggressive with others, not you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Natalie is a very good listener. Sometimes it doesn't look like it when you're rambling, and it looks like she's fallen asleep, but she listens. She will bring up details that you don't even remember telling her.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

One summer you brought her on your family vacation, and the two of you snuck out to the pool in the middle of the night. For some reason it holds a special place in her heart. You swam, laughed, and made out. She just never got to do shit like that with someone.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

What really gets her is when people talk shit. If you're not one to stand up for yourself she'll definitely tell them to shut the fuck up, along with some other not nice words. If you can do it she'll watch and pat you on the back after and ask if you're alright.

She doesn't expect anyone to be protective over her, and she prefers to stand up for herself. It makes her feel more in control, all she needs is your support. If someone said something behind her back, she'd be fine with you giving them a word.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She's not someone to make a rose petal path. All she cares about is having fun.

On dates, which she doesn't love cuz she's broke, her only goal is to make you laugh and smile

Anniversaries, a little more effort, like picking some flowers that will be dead the next day. She'd make you a cassette tape with music that makes her think of you.

Gifts, like I said above, and those little trinkets she finds and gives you randomly. Its basically trash, but you love it.

She won't do any tasks unless you ask or they bother her. And she'll probably complain the whole time, but she'll do it for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Obviously addiction. If it bothered you, she wouldn't do them around you, but she likely wouldn't stop. Maybe she tried at first, but she couldn't quit.

She also chews her nails til they bleed. And she impulsively cuts her hair, she always has new layers. She's also bleached her hair ever since her dad's death, and it's also dead.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She puts effort into her makeup and outfits for herself and no one else. She spent forever perfecting her eye makeup, to something she likes. To hear how she presented herself unsettled people, she'd be proud of herself. The eyeshadow is just a part of her now, she never washes it off, only touches it up in the morning.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In other relationships, she didn’t give a shit, but you...if you left her you would be the one to break her heart. You guys separated for a week, and it was the worst week of her life (dramatically). She tried really hard after that.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I heard someone say she's secretly good at math, and I totally see that. She doesn't tell anyone, but one day you see her math homework, and you make her help you. She complains the whole time and doesn't show her work. She sucks at explaining, so you just stop asking her for help.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Anyone who talks shit. If her partner is gonna talk behind her back or be disrespectful, she's done. Warning and she's done.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

I said before she always smokes at least a little before bed. She also never undresses or only partially. She doesn't own pajamas. I guess we saw her in pajama like clothes in the cabin, but she wore them like all day too. So I stand by what I said, she doesn't give a shit. She lays on her stomach and takes up the whole bed, which is in total disarray.

A/n: thx for listening to my ramble♡💋🙊

#she's my gf #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #yellowjackets #natalie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets headcanons #natalie scatorccio thoughts 💭#nat yellowjackets #lesbian #wlw #wlw post

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