#fic: singing along to the start of forever

[mythalsknickers]

Given how much of a large thematic focal point Solas takes in Mythal's journey. Had he done more than make the dagger, we would have narratively known about it. We knew back in DAI the dread wolf was some kind of subordinate to Mythal.

Mythal: I pulled you from the fade you loved and sent you into war. I used you wisdom as a weapon...and it broke you. [source]

My sibling in Andraste/Lady of the Skies/Mythal, please show me where it says the artbook is a canon source of dragon age media and should be used as a canon source? I will gladly say I am wrong all day every day if it is canon. Hell I am using ideas from Matt Rhodes' concepts of the companion missions for my Lucanismance fic, but they are concepts, not canon to Lucanis' romance.

We know that Elvhen history has been chronicled one of two ways. 1) Chantry Scholars 2) Written Traditions, that were saved through Oral Traditions You are doing a disservice to the complexity of history in this media franchise by disregarding the song that was turned into a lullaby for elvhen children. Especially since it is not the only only song dated from around the titan war. So let's start with A Song to Elgar'nan, which was an Inquisition codex

Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work. Elgar'nan, help us tame the land.

In this I emphasized three things. The first "Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities." From this we can learn the war was not going well, the people were desperate for a victory, and that the Titans were shaking the cities (and likely doing massive upheavals to those cities) Our next line "Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work." We have to look at another song; A Song to Falon'din for answers too who "Winged Death" is, which from the song below you can see it is Falon'din. Which begs several questions.

The People swore their lives to Falon'Din Who mastered the dark that lies. Whose shadows hunger Whose faithful sing Whose wings of death surround him Thick as night. Lethanavir, master-scryer, be our guide, Through shapeless worlds and airless skies.

There is a reason Propaganda from harmful regimes is still analyzed in the real world. It can tell you plenty about the people who lived under those regimes and what they were dealing with on a daily basis. That one codex is not the only example of Mythal being praised for sundering the titans. There is a line in Veilfire Runes in the Deep Roads that says the following;

Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!

Huh that almost sounds like....

Bellara: Mythal las ma theneras. We thought it meant Mythal gives you dreams. It wasn't that, it was Mythal took your dreams, all along.

Again I am not saying Solas is blameless, honestly I quite prefer him messy and tragic and riddled with guilt for actions that were not entirely his own. Solas as you said was not a member of the Evanuris and he very likely did not have the power to do the ritual given how new he was to his body.

You know in retrospect sundermount is a hell of a name for a mountain

[velnica]

Singing Along Chapter 13 - Move a little closer; I wanna hear you whisper

Explicit | Sanson/Guydelot | Modern AU

A date at the aquarium should have been fun and relaxing, yet Sanson found himself alone in the living room at midday whilst Guydelot snored his head off in Sanson's bed, dead to the world.

[leighsartworks216]

Damn Him

Father!Zayne x Mother!Reader

I NEVER write baby fics or anything with kids and shit EVER. So when I got this idea and felt something deep in my core about it, I simply had to get it out of my system. I'm sorry ;-;

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, angst (at the end), family fic, breasts, Dawnbreaker, swearing

Word Count: 1,275

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Crying broke through the still night air. They crackled slightly, muffled through the baby monitor on your bedside table. Nonetheless, you were awake.

The bed is already starting to shift when you're opening your eyes. You blindly reach out and grab onto the soft sleeve of Zayne's pajama shirt.

"I've got it..." you murmur. "She's prob’ly hungry."

He watches blearily as you slowly push yourself up into a sit. "Are you sure?"

You hum, nodding. You let go of him and pick up the monitor, waving it in the air with a playful, yet sleepy, grin. "It's on my side tonight, remember?" You turn down the volume, set it back down and get to your feet. "Go back to bed, lovey. I'll be back soon."

Zayne sighs, but he stays where he is as you pull a cardigan of his around your shoulders. He listens to the sounds of your shared home: the quiet shuffle of your slippers, the hiccuping cries of your daughter, the soothing lilt of your voice as you calm her down.

He glances at the digital clock beside him. It's only 2am; there's still plenty of time to get enough sleep for work tomorrow. As much as his body wants to fight the exhaustion and join you, he knows you'd scold him if he tried. He trusts you, anyway. There's nothing he can do right now to help.

So, he slips back under the blankets and turns onto his side. As the blankets fall into place, the rustling silences, and he tunes back into the lullaby you sing. It leads him down into the embrace of a peaceful slumber.

When next he wakes, he's disoriented. He blinks droopily at the emptiness of your side of the bed, then at the clock that reads 3:30am. There's no distinct sounds coming from the baby monitor. Down the hall is quiet. Why aren't you in bed?

He pushes the blankets off of himself and sits up, sliding on his slippers like it’s second nature. The cool air of the bedroom doesn't bother him as he crosses the room and out the door.

The door to the nursery is wide open. Blue moonlight pours though, spilling onto the floor and up the opposite wall. He squints slightly as he peeks inside. Any fears he could have vanish as he sees you.

You're sitting back in the armchair beside the window, head tilted back at an awkward angle and mouth open around quiet snores. Your shirt is pulled down to expose one of your breasts. Your daughter is using it as a pillow as your arms securely hold her, even as you are fast asleep.

Zayne drinks it all in. Your sleep-rumpled hair and dark eye bags, the shimmer of a drool trail along your chin, the uncomfortable way the collar of your shirt pulls against the underside of your breast. Your daughter, Jasmine, his beloved little flower, clinging with her tiny baby fists to his cardigan you stole, her chubby cheek resting against your skin and the other catching a stray moonbeam. He considers taking a photo of the moment, though he eventually decides against it. His two girls need to be put to bed and he doesn't wish to delay that any longer. Besides, if nothing else, this moment has been seared into his mind. That is enough for him.

He's as quiet as can be as he crosses the room to the chair. Carefully, he slowly pries Jasmine's hands from the cardigan. Her body is so small and warm in his hands as he lifts her into his arms. Oftentimes, he's overwhelmed with the desire to hold her forever, to feel her tiny little heartbeat alongside his own. Just like people save ultrasounds or ink-presses of their child's feet and hands, Zayne wonders if it would be strange to save an echocardiogram as a memento.

She doesn't stir as he lays her down in the crib. Her long, dark eyelashes curl over her round cheeks, picturesque. Her onesie is covered in little snowmen. He should make one for her with his Evol tomorrow. He can only imagine the bright-eyed stare she'd give him as he creates such cute things out of thin air.

Leaning down, he presses the lightest of kisses to her head, just barely starting to see hair growth. Now to take care of the other girl in his life.

Nimble fingers pull your shirt back over your breast, drawing the open sides of the cardigan together to keep you warm. He debates between waking you or not. And although he really should wake you, he ends up lifting you from the chair and into his arms. The moonlight caresses his back as he carries you down the hall, back to your bedroom. He tucks your feet in first as he lays you down before pulling the blankets up over you. Just as he did with Jasmine, he kisses your forehead, willing portions of his soul to transfer to you in hopes he can somehow get across how much he utterly and truly loves you.

He grabs the baby monitor before he rounds the bed back to his side. He turns the volume dial back up and sets it on his nightstand beside the clock. You'll get onto him about it being your turn to take care of the baby for the entire night, a system born out of his tendency to do everything himself due to his workaholic nature. He'll accept the scolding come daylight. You'll forgive him. You always do. Even if it's with an exaggerated sigh and a fond eye roll.

He lays on his side to face you, the love of his life. He couldn't dream of being anywhere but here, by your side, as he allows sleep to overcome him once again.

-

He wakes up.

Hollow.

He always feels hollow after dreams like that. And why shouldn't he feel the weight of what is missing in his life?

His bed is empty save for him. The room down the hall is full of random stuff he can't be bothered to worry about. It's a guest room; he's not having any guests over, so why bother?

The void within him cries to be filled. It opens like a yawning mouth, only an unfathomable depth waiting within, yearning for that life. The life that doctor has. A life he can never have.

Never will he be able to wake up to your face right beside him. Never will he be able to hold his daughter. Never will he be able to have that life with you.

It isn't fair. It's not-

He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, biting back the shuddering breaths and the sting of tears. He’ll be forced to watch his daughter grow up through that doctor’s eyes. And it’s not even his. He has no rights to make a claim on her. He never will.

Relegated to watching you grow old through someone else’s eyes, instead of being there with you, to hold and help and love.

The sensor beeps nearby. He turns his head to look, blinking away the moisture in his eyes and meeting the breaking dawn that shines in through the window. A red dot blinks at him. It’s only a few blocks away.

He imagines for a brief second if the victim this time was you.

You, carrying a little baby in your arms, calling him a murderer. The idea of taking her life-

He closes his eyes and wills the thoughts away. Damn that doctor for having the life he can never have. Damn him.

---

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[no-144444]

chancer- o.piastri

Day 31 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Can he figure out who you are at the masquerade ball before you leave forever?

a/n: thank you everyone for reading these stories over the last month! this has been so fun and i've loved getting to write everyday!

ps, these were the costumes i had in mind (plus random masquerade masks):

you: oscar:

(both from pinterest!)

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Oscar knew he wasn’t the first person anyone would choose to go to a party with. He was awkward, quiet, unknown, and uninterested in getting to know new people. He had his friend group; Logan, Lando, Alex, Charles, George, Daniel, Pierre, Arthur, Liam, and himself. He was happy just talking with his friends. He wasn’t looking for more, and he didn’t want to entertain small talk more than he already had to with his job.

“What if you meet someone there?” Alex had wondered out loud, trying to persuade him to go. He was the only girlfriend-less guy in the group. Alex knew he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. He knew, because every single week one of their girlfriends would text him about ‘a friend that was really interested�� and every time he’d say no. He wasn’t looking for a hook-up (mostly because he didn’t believe in hook-up culture, not being into having sex with someone without knowing them), and he didn’t want to lead someone on. Objectively, yes, he knew he was an attractive man. He was a fucking racecar driver who was paid to take care of his body. He was paid to model clothes and go to nice events. He was paid to drive a fast car, on track and off it. Could he probably put more effort into his look? Absolutely. He didn’t even own a hairbrush, and he wasn’t going to start anytime soon. 

Yet there he stood, pirate costume on (complete with a masquerade mask, as to keep with the theme of the party), walking into the biggest house he’d seen in a while, with a bubbly sense of anxiety in his stomach. Logan was walking beside him, talking to Liam about something or other. 

“You’re nervous,” Arthur teased. Oscar rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t want to be here,” he sighed as he got handed a drink. 

“Why not? Have a bit of fun!”

“Fun to you, is drinking and making out with your girlfriend in the corner of a party. Fun for me, is going home and sleeping,” Oscar took a swig o f his drink, it burned as it went down his throat. 

“We should’ve invited Hattie instead,” he scoffed. Hattie and Arthur had become friends during Oscar’s overlapping time in F2 with Arthur. Hattie was always the more outgoing sibling, and Oscar wouldn’t have blamed them for inviting her instead of him. He could’ve at least gone home and slept. 

“Oscar!” Fernando cheered, resting an arm over his shoulders. “You came!” 

Ah, this was Fernando’s party. Of course. 

“Of course I did,” he smiled. Fernando had always been kind to him, especially in his time in Alpine. 

“I have someone I want you to meet,” he whispered. “It’s a girl…” Oscar rolled his eyes. “Is everyone trying to set me up with someone tonight?” 

“Maybe, I know I am,” he laughed. “Follow me.” 

Oscar dutifully followed behind Fernando, being brought further into the party. It was going to be impossible to find any of his friends again, so he sent the group chat a quick text to meet him at the front door in 1 hour, as that would be when he would be leaving. He was met with sad and angry emojis, but he didn’t care. The host had seen him, and he had a weekend's worth of sleep to get.   

“This is-” Fernando was too quiet to be heard over all the shouting and singing. But in front of both of them stood you. You were dressed as a mermaid. What a pair you two made. 

Oscar’s mouth literally fell open. You were gorgeous, the costume showing a great deal of skin and he was not complaining. What really drew him in was the bright smile on your lips as Fernando spoke (he had tuned everything else out) and the way you nodded along. 

“So, I’m sure you’ll get acquainted!” Fernando announced just in time for Oscar to close his jaw and stop drooling. Then your attention turned on him. 

“I think him telling me who you are defeats the purpose of the masks, right?” you chuckled. He chuckled. 

He was a goner. 

“You’re right,” he smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“I know,” you bit your lip, smiling brightly. “He told me, remember?”

He internally kicked himself. “Of course, yeah. Sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry,” you shouted over the music. “It’s a little loud in here, want to go somewhere quieter?”

He nodded. “Yeah!” 

You took his hand and led him out to the garden, which was still full of drunk people. You brought him further, him following diligently. You brought him to the edge of the forest at the back of the house. “You trust me?”

He nodded, trusting you implicitly. You led him further, into the forest, until you made it to a treehouse. 

You helped him up (despite being in a skirt), and there you two sat for a moment, just enjoying the quiet. 

“What do you like to do?” you asked, out of the blue. 

“I like to drive-”

“Other than of driving,” you giggled. 

He smiled. “Well, I like to sleep, I like to play video games, I like watching movies, I like baking-”

“Baking?” you questioned. 

“Yeah, baking,” he nodded. 

You looked at him sceptically. “Explain.”

He chuckled. “Well, my mum and my grandma used to make me sit with them in the kitchen to learn how to bake, and when I was a kid, I fucking hated it. Now that I’m older, I love it. It’s so relaxing.”

“You learn something new everyday,” you smiled. 

“What about you?”

“Well, I like to read, I like to cook, I like hanging out with my friends and family, I like writing-”

“What do you write about?” he asked.   

You smiled cheekily, he could see the way your eyes crinkled, just slightly. It made him smile. 

“You chancer, I don’t know if I can tell a random stranger that…” you shook your head. “I’ll need to get to know you better.”

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So, there you two sat, talking about your lives, enjoying each other's company, and just having fun. The hour he was supposed to spend had long since passed, and he had silenced his phone the second you had started talking about your life. He didn’t see the messages from his friends about leaving, he didn’t see the missed calls from them, wondering if he was alright. He didn’t want to either. 

You ended up with your head on his shoulder as the topic of love somehow came up. 

“Have you ever been in love?” you asked, curious about his experience. 

“I don’t think so,” he answered, mildly confused. 

“So, no then.” 

He chuckled. “No, then. You?”

You shook your head. “Nope. But I do love racing.”

“You race?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “MotoGP.” 

“That’s awesome,” he praised. 

You looked into his eyes, the majority of his face covered by the mask. “I want to kiss you right now,” you admitted, your voice low. 

He gulped. “I want to kiss you right now.” 

You smiled cheekily again. “What’s stopping you?” 

And that was that. He kissed you.

His hands found space on your hips and held you against him, feeling the sparks between you two like a fuckign fire. He wanted so much more than just one kiss. Your lips against his was like the perfect symphony, your hands on his body the greatest touch, his hands on your skin like the softest connection. 

“Oscar,” you moaned against his lips as he bit down on your bottom lip, his tongue fighting yours. 

The loud bang of fireworks pulled you both apart. You both gasped, pulled away abruptly, then laughed as your adrenaline calmed down. 

“That was…” he started. 

“Wow,” you finished. 

He chuckled. “Wow,” he agreed. 

You checked your phone, wondering the time. “Shit!” you cursed. “I have to go, it was awesome meeting you, my friends-”

“Can I get your number?” he asked, rushing after you. 

“I think that defeats the purpose of the night Oscar,” you chuckled. 

“I-I don’t even know your name!” he stressed. He needed to see you again. “I want to see you again.” 

You ran ahead of him, rushing through the trees. He followed behind, thankful that his trainer makes him go on endurance runs. 

As you two got back into the house, you tried to shake him off, just for fun. He wasn’t budging. When you finally made it to the front door, he grabbed your arm and kissed you. Again, those same butterflies were sent free in your stomach, and this time it didn’t make you nervous. It made you happy. 

As he kissed you, he pulled your mask off, revealing your identity to him as he pulled away. 

“Shit you’re beautiful,” he chuckled. “Sorry if that was too-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, pulling off his mask. “Pretty handsome yourself.” 

He smiled. “Please. I want to see you again.” 

“You already have my number, idiot,” you chuckled. 

“I know,” he chuckled. “I’m just asking you out now anyways.” 

You smiled. “Yes, I’ll obviously go out with you.” 

He pressed his lips to yours once again, and both of your friend groups cheered, happy that you’d finally gotten together.

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[its-luna-noel]

in my restless dreams, i see you | various!jjk x reader

01. you look lonely, i can fix that

Vampire lord Ryomen Sukuna gives you the gift of eternal life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. vampire lord!sukuna x reader vampire!geto x reader vampire hunter!gojo x reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, vampire!au, smut, drinking, partying, non-con elements, blood drinking, vampire turning, violence & blood, definite dark themes so DD:DNE

word count: 2.0k

chapter 1/? next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi welcome to the first chapter of restless dreams! this fic is inspired by the album by the same name by Savage Ga$p & KAMAARA. hope you enjoy xx

also quick note on reader: pov is fem!reader, no use of y/n. can be read with any physical characteristics, when i mention pallor that just means a lack of typical color, not necessarily white (only mentioning cause i reject stephanie meyer’s idea that vamps can’t be black/brown). okay thx bye

It’s your twentieth birthday when you’re turned.

Heavy bass thumps loudly through the club as you walk inside, hips swaying just enough to make your pretty little sundress flutter around your thighs. Your heels are just impressive enough to turn eyes towards you as you walk to the bar, heads turning and eyes roaming as you walk past. You flash a charming smile at the bartender and order your favorite drink.

Nobara sighs as she comes up beside you, leaning against the bar. “People are staring,” she tells you.

You offer that same smile, now with a mischievous twist. “That’s the point. I bet I won't have to pay for a single drink tonight.”

She sighs again when the bartender hands you your drink and slides her card across the bar top. “Starting now, I guess. Happy birthday.”

You just grin and take a long drink, tipping your head back and exposing the column of your throat. “Thanks, Nobes.”

A gentle hand comes to your back, and you look over as Maki comes around your shoulder to stand next to Nobara. She’s wearing a small smirk as she examines your face; it’s clear you’ve been pregaming for hours, if not all afternoon. “You ready to get dancing?”

You nod, taking another drink before taking the girls by the hand and leading them to the dance floor.

It’s a busy night; the floor is crowded with groups of friends just like yours dancing together. Flashing lights nearly blind you, but you don’t even care because you’re intoxicated by the smokey air and by the alcohol moving sluggishly through your veins. As soon as you find an open space, you drop your friends’ hands and lift your own into the air, reaching towards the stars as you start moving your hips to the sultry music.

You let the bass guide your movements, let the beat of the music move through your body as you tip your head back to take another sip from your drink. Condensation starts to drip from the side of the glass, and sweat beads on the side of your face, but you’re smiling with your eyes closed because it’s all so euphoric, and as you sing loudly to your favorite songs, you’re sure you’ll live forever.

Because what are your early twenties but immortality?

Nobara and Maki sing along too, and you’re all dancing together, throwing it back against each other’s hips in the sluttiest moves you’ve ever made, and you’re all laughing because you all love each other so deeply.

But that love isn’t what you’re looking for tonight.

And so when Nobara turns to Maki and takes her hips in her hands, grinding playfully against her ass with another boisterous laugh, you grin and shout over the music. “Want something to drink?”

They both nod, grinning back, and you totter off towards the bar, empty glasses propped up in your hands.

You order three more.

While you wait, watching the girls dance together, you feel the shadow of an indomitable presence behind you, and you’re already shivering before you even hear the voice in your ear, before you feel the soft brush of breath against your hair.

“You look lonely.”

You slowly turn, and your eyes widen a little.

Your eyes land first on black markings, thick lines of tattoos on skin that you’re sure might be rude to stare at, but you can’t help it. It’s the first thing you see, and then your drunken mind finally flickers and focuses on scarlet eyes gazing down at you, a dangerous smirk curling lips that are just as dangerous.

You feel like you’re seeing a walking nightmare, an incarnated desire, a realized fantasy. Standing next to you, coming to lean against the bar beside you, which causes him to stoop slightly from his incredible height.

“I can fix that,” he continues, and his smirk seems to only grow. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You blink, coming back to yourself, and shake your head a little. “I just ordered one,” you tell him.

He hums, and the sound rumbles deep in his broad chest. “That’s a shame,” he says, tilting his head as his eyes roam over you, from your face, down the curve of your throat, over your chest, down your belly to your hips, to your legs and feet adorned in heels…

You fight to swallow under the weight of his gaze.

His eyes finally flicker back to yours, and he smirks again. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying your own drinks,” he continues, and it feels like he’s chastising you, like he’s disappointed in you. You flush a little at his tone; you’ve never been spoken to like that, like you’re a misbehaving little puppy, and it sends heat through your body.

You stammer a response. “I-it’s going on my friend’s tab.”

He chuckles, a low sultry noise. “Ah, I see. And what’s the occasion?”

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you can’t help but answer. “It’s my birthday.”

His eyes light up a little, and his smirk widens into a full-blown grin. “Your birthday, huh? Well, then, I have to buy you a drink now. Can’t let the birthday girl go without a little gift, eh? How’s that sound, pretty girl; let me buy you your next drink?”

You couldn’t argue if you wanted to; you’re pliant under his dangerous gaze. You just nod obediently, watching his smile grow. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you.

You flush deeply at his words.

The bartender slides three drinks your way, and you wrap your hands around your glass, tipping it back and finishing it quickly. Then you grab the other two and nod your head towards your friends. “Let me give them these,” you say, hoping he won’t be gone when you come back.

He seems to see the question in your eyes; he smirks again. “I’ll be here,” he says.

So you hurry away, and try not to slosh the drinks all over you as you walk towards Nobara and Maki, still on the dance floor.

The girls are watching you closely, curiously, cautiously. You hand them your drinks, giving them a very particular look that they could recognize as excitement, and you mouth oh my god, he’s so hot, and neither of them can argue, because goddamn you caught a good one.

So they just offer smiles and mouth back go get him.

And so, once they take their drinks from your hands, you flutter back towards the bar, returning to the stranger’s side.

He offers a slow, lazy smile, gesturing to the bartender. “Order what you want,” he says, voice sending another shiver down your spine, because you can tell exactly what he’s thinking about doing to you if you stay in his presence.

But he’s just as intoxicating as the ethanol in your system, and so you stay, giggling and ordering yet another drink.

He continues to examine you with that heavy gaze, those dangerous eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks, eyes unabashedly roaming over your face, your throat, again.

You take it as a compliment. You tell him your name, and he hums and repeats it, and you have to hold back another giggle; it sounds so good coming from between his lips.

You want to hear it over and over again.

“Sukuna,” he introduces himself, and even just his name sends a shiver through you, because you can already feel the power he has over you. Then he says, “Dance with me.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

You nod anyway. “Okay,” You say, and once you finish your drink, you offer him your hand.

He takes it and guides you to the dance floor, his steps slow and measured, so confident it practically makes your knees shake. His hand is firm and surprisingly cool around yours, and when he’s got you back on the dance floor, he grabs your hip and pulls you back against his body.

His muscles are hard against your back, and his arousal is hard against your ass.

His large hand on your hip roams slowly, sensually, across your belly, tangling in your dress to feel the soft heat of you through the fabric. Then he moves back to your hip, gripping the flesh around bone to hold you in place as he starts to grind against you, his movements confident and practiced.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you press your ass back against him, swaying your hips against his. You feel his fingers tighten on your hip, and you know he’s just as affected by you as you are by him.

He dips his head to press a slowly, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat. Your lashes flutter as your eyes fall shut, and you tip your head out of the way for him, and you can feel him smile against your skin as he kisses lower, then lower.

He reaches the spot above your pulse, and he inhales slowly, breathing in the scent of you, your perfume, your sweat. You shiver as his breath fans across your skin, sending goosebumps rising along your skin. He chuckles quietly and moves another inch lower, moving towards the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

“So pretty,” he murmurs into your skin, nuzzling into the curve there.

You tip your head back against his shoulder and close your eyes, hips still moving against his to the music. Your head feels light and airy, like you’re floating, and you know you’ve gotten too drunk, that you’ve put yourself in a dangerous position, but you can’t even bring yourself to care, because he dances so well against you. His hands move everywhere you want them, coming up to palm your breast through your dress, long fingers dragging down the neckline so he can catch a glimpse of your lacy bra.

He grunts against your neck, squeezing and massaging the soft tissue. “Pretty,” he says, and for some reason the word sounds like Mine.

You wouldn’t even mind if that’s what he meant.

It’s oppressively hot in the club, especially with him touching you like this, his palm now sliding back down your body to play with the skirt covering your upper thighs, like he wants to lift it up right there and take you in front of everyone. You’re not even sure if you’d stop him, if you’d want him to stop, his aura is just that overpowering, convincing, dominating. But he doesn’t; he just tugs the fabric back and forth, watching how it clings to your body.

You’re sweating, but his touch, his breath, his tongue are all much cooler than you would’ve expected.

That cool tongue brushes against your pulse point, and he finally lets out a small groan. “Damn,” he breathes against your neck. “Taste so good.”

You whimper softly, grinding back against him harder, movements needy and desperate.

He chuckles, the hand that’s been holding you still by the hip finally trailing up your body. His palm runs over your neck, gripping gently as he tips your head to the side. “You wanna leave, little girl?” he asks you, voice low, rumbling beneath the loud rhythm of the bass.

You nod, moaning softly as his lips press against your neck again. “Please,” you whisper.

He just chuckles again, noise pleased but slightly derisive. “Alright,” he says, and he pulls away, letting his hands drop from your body as he instead grabs your hand and starts to lead you off the dance floor. “Let’s go, then.”

You turn over your shoulder, catching Nobara’s eye, and flash a big smile and a thumbs up. Then you face forward again and follow obediently into the night.

thanks for reading! -luna xx next chapter

[lovelettersfromluna]

☆.*･｡ The Perfect Girl ☆ﾟ.*･｡

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: The amount of tension between you and your guitarist is fucking ridiculous.

an: You read that right babe, I’m giving rockstar!Ellie this time. I literally cannot get over her in a fucking leather jacket just tearing it up on stage for her adoring fans. You know it’s not a fic of mine if there isn’t some mutual pining between you and our fave girl. I don’t wanna give too much away tho! I hope you enjoy angel 🖤.

Warnings: 18+!!, ANGST, eventual smut just not in this chapter, mentions of sex, mutual pining, Ellie is sort of a dick but she isn’t necessarily mean (don’t worry you’ll see), lead singer!reader, use of alcohol and marijuana, rock star life style so lots of partying, reader is a badass I’m sorry but I had to, let me know if I missed anything! (not proofread)

Part 2 can be read here!

You always thought the city looked the prettiest from rooftops.

Ever since you were little, your safe haven would be on the tops of houses or buildings, giving you time to gather yourself and your mind.

You couldn’t really remember the last time you were fully alone.

Being on tour with your band was…hard. You missed home, and your throat was sore from all the singing, and you hated the dingy little venues that your manager had gotten for you…

But this was your dream, and you remembered that regardless of all of the things you hated, it would never outweigh the joy you felt when you were on stage, and the people in the crowd were singing with you, singing your bands songs.

It made it all worth it somehow.

You brought your cigarette up to your lips, perched between your middle and pointer finger, and inhaled deeply. The contrast of the warmth you felt in your lungs from the smoke, and the cold air that blew onto your skin somehow took the edge off the chilly wind.

It was cold, and you had to downtown at the venue you were performing at within the next 20 minutes, but you felt like if you didn’t get 5 minutes alone, away from your band members, you’d lose your mind.

Only, that was half the truth. You weren’t entirely running from your band…not all of them at least.

You were running from Ellie.

After you and your best friend Dylan had started up your band, he was quick to bring Ellie in to audition for your lead guitarist. He told you that he’d known Ellie for almost forever, and that he was positive you two would get along.

And he was write, you did get along.

Once your band had been established with all positions filled, you and Ellie were always together. You’d write songs together, search for venues that would give a group of kids the time of day to perform a handful of their songs, sleep overs almost every night. If Ellie was there, so were you.

It started to change when your band released a demo, and your lives changed overnight.

The amount of attention that came with it was almost overwhelming, and before you knew it you had a manager and a tour was being organized. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have time to adjust to it all, to all of the attention that you were getting from people that you didn’t even know.

Ellie quickly became a fan favorite.

You first realized it during one of your first shows, and after your set was finished and you were all packing your equipment up into your tour bus, and Ellie wasn’t helping. She was leaned up the brick wall of the club you’d just performed at, surrounded but a handful of pretty girls.

And although you felt a twinge of jealousy set off like a small wildfire in the pit of your stomach, you carried on. Because it was never out of the ordinary for Ellie to flirt with a pretty girl. She’d always been pretty, and she always attracted the attention of those around her. It was just on a greater scale now.

One that would grow to be greater and greater the more popular you guys got.

So no, the groupies didn’t bother you, not entirely at least. Sure, you had to sleep with your headphones on whenever you’d hear Ellie fucking them after a show and your hotel room just had to be next to hers, and you’d make sure that you weren’t around every time Ellie was stood outside of a venue getting their numbers, but you didn’t let it affect your friendship with her, because Ellie was your friend, your good friend and she didn’t owe you anything.

What did bother you though, was what you caught her saying to Dylan one day after a show.

It was one of the rare occasions that Ellie actually spent time with you guys after a show, and not running off with a groupie. You were all sat around in Ellie’s hotel room, drunk and high out of your minds. Your head was resting against Ellie’s knee while you sat on the floor and her on the couch, her long fingers combing through your hair and massaging your scalp as you both lazily laughed at something your drummer said. It was moments like this that you felt at peace, and you realized that your job was to travel with your best friends, make music and just enjoy one another.

You hummed softly as you took a long drag of Ellie’s blunt before passing it back to her and standing up.

“Where you goin’ babe?” Ellie rasped out, her hand resting on your waist for a moment before she took the blunt from you. You smiled lazily, eyes hazy before you nodded your head towards the door. “M’cold…gonna get my sweater and my phone” you hummed. Ellie whined softly, letting her head fall back as she took a drag of her joint, her other hand reaching out for you.

“Just use one of mine…you’re warm” she mumbles out lazily, and you roll your eyes as you shoo her hand away, already walking over the various articles of clothing, music sheets and empty bottles that were on the floor, scrunching your nose at the mess as you focused on not falling over.

“Need my phone anyways Els…I’ll be right back” you called out before you opened the door to leave.

It was things like that. When she’d whine and moan for you for being too far or for leaving her when she was enjoying your warm embrace that made your heart tug. You’d always remind yourself that if she wanted to, she would. Ellie had been your friend for many years at this point, and the fact alone that she’d known you as long as she did and never tried to take things further was enough for you to push down any feelings that you had for her. You’d watch Ellie date girls that she’d only known for a few weeks, and you knew that being with her would never be written in the stars for you.

You left the hotel room door cracked open since you knew you didn’t have your room key, and you’d just be going to your room that was right next door.

Once you got your phone and a hoodie, you left your room and went back to Ellie’s. When you entered, it was easy for you to silently get in since you had left the door open for yourself when you got back. The only thing is, none of your band mates heard you come back to the room.

That was your first mistake.

The long hallway that lead to the room door kept you hidden, so they couldn’t hear you nor see you. But you were able to hear everything that they were saying.

“Come on Ellie, we know you’re into her…the way she’s always touching you? Why don’t you just ask her out?” You could distinguish the voice to be Charlie, your drummer. He chuckled softly as he tossed something at Ellie, and you heard her groan once it hit her.

“I am not into her, okay? Jesus never…I’d never go for her. She’s just…not really my type, you know? Plus…she’s kinda clingy” she chuckled softly, you could hear s small thump, followed by Ellie groaning in pain. Dylan probably hit her.

“Hey, don’t fuckin’ talk about her that way man. She’s our friend…even if you feel that way…no need to say it” he huffs out. Dylan had always had your back, acting as the big brother you had never had.

Ellie scoffs softly, and you swear you can almost fucking hear her roll her eyes. You hear the soft crackling of her blunt, and you know she’s taking another hit. “It’s the truth, okay? You see the way she looks like a kicked puppy every time I’m hooking up with a girl…it’s just sad..” she sighs out, and she sounds like she feels bad for you, like she’s been treating you this way the entire time because Ellie pities you.

And you suddenly can't breathe, because one of the people you trusted the most is saying such mean things about you, and you feel like you can't handle it. You don't even realize it, but there are fat tears rolling down your cheeks, pooling at your chin and dripping onto your shirt. You have to leave, because you know that if you see her face, you'll lose it.

You ended up crying in your hotel room on your bed until you passed out, waking up to your eyes being sore and swollen and your cheeks wet with the tears that you cried the night prior. You also wake up to a few messages and phone calls from Dylan, Charlie..

and Ellie.

Each of them asking you where you'd run off to, and if you would be coming back. It almost makes you laugh because Ellie is whining to you in your messages saying that she misses you and that you were having so much fun, saying that she hopes you didn't fall asleep because she'll just follow you into your room to sleep with you.

It's extremely fucking ironic that this is all coming from someone who called you clingy not even thirty minutes before texting you all of these messages.

And it's how you ended up here, on the rooftop of the hotel you were staying at, hiding from her.

The entire conversation that you had overheard had happened almost a week ago now, and you hadn't spoken a single word to Ellie.

None of it went without attempts from her end though.

She was constantly trying to talk to you, touch you, hold you, all of which been ignored by you. At first she assumed you were just going through a bad hangover from the night before, however it went on for days, and soon enough Ellie was finding it hard to remember when the last time it was that you had even looked at her.

Your brooding thoughts were interrupted by the door to the roof opening up, and the sound of heavy boots already told you who it was without having to look.

Dylan sighed softly as he stood behind you, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes burned holes into the back of your head.

"What the fuck is going on with you dude?" He sighed out. He had long since lost his patience with you, with your sulking, and the constant silent treatment you had been giving everyone, most specifically Ellie.

You sighed softly, taking another long drag of your cigarette before you stood up, flicking it onto the floor and using your boot to smoosh it into the ground. You gave a shrug, the zippers on your leather jacket jingling a bit.

"Nothin'....just been tired man...tour is kicking my ass" You sighed out, wishing internally that he would for once buy your bullshit excuse and not pry any further. Your feelings were pissing you off, and Ellie was pissing you off even more. You just...would rather not talk about it.

Dylan's eyebrows raised before he scoffed in disbelief. "And am I supposed to believe that? Do you think im fucking stupid?" He huffed out, and his own shoulders were crossing over his chest as he stared down at you much like a father staring down at their child.

"We aren't going anywhere until you tell me why the hell you've been pouting like a child. So, either you talk, or the show tonight isn't happening."

His threat made you frown, because as much as tour was exhausting, it was what you loved the most. Even the thought of letting down anyone who was getting ready in that very moment to come out and see you and your band, the excitement they felt whenever they waited for you guys to walk out on stage, made you sick to your stomach.

You sighed, staring down at your black boots, unable to even look the man in the eyes before you inhaled deeply.

"I heard what Ellie said about me.." You mumbled out, so softly the wind was almost loud enough to muffle what you had said, your confession getting lost in the air, never to be heard again.

The second you said it, Dylan's features softened. In that moment, he had realized just how young you were...You were barely an adult, still in your 20s, and this entire life had swept you up and taken you away in the blink of an eye, and never once had you complained about it. He realized, that he still had to protect you.

He sighed, his arms dropping down to his side. He suddenly felt guilty, like he hadn't done enough to defend you, because he was sure that if you had heard what Ellie said, you heard what he had said.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you into his own, wrapping you up in a big bear hug like all big brothers did. You let out a sigh of relief the second your face pressed against his chest, realizing that, that was the first time you were hugging someone in a week.

"Im sorry kid...I....I dunno why Ellie says the things that she says..." He sighed out. Dylan saw the way you looked at Ellie, the way your face dropped the second she was running off with another girl.

Dylan could see the way you felt about Ellie long before you could.

You shrugged as you let out a shaky breath, staying in his embrace for a moment longer before you pulled away. "Its whatever man...I just...I don't really wanna talk to her anymore.." You sighed out, and Dylan was nodding in agreement. "I understand...just...this will all pass, im sure" He mumbled.

He hoped it would pass.

You sighed before you looked up at him for the first time since he came outside to get you. Your eyes were pleading, like you were begging for something without even saying anything.

"Promise you won't say anything..I can't...I don't want to deal with this shit right now" You mumbled, and Dylan nodded. His arm went to sling around your shoulder, pulling you into the side of his body as he began walking you back to the door that lead into the building.

"Its safe with me kid...now come on...we've got fans to perform for" He hummed.

The thought of seeing them alone was enough to make you crack a smile.

☆ﾟ.*･｡

Ellie on the other hand, was losing her fucking mind.

She was wracking her brain to try and figure out what the hell she had done this time to receive the silent treatment from you. She had tried everything to remember, she retraced all of her steps within the last two weeks, read through your messages with her to see if she had made fun of something you liked, she even went as far as to listen back to a few of your tracks to see if she had messed up or something.

But each thing she tried, always came up with nothing.

You were ignoring her and it was pissing her the fuck off.

She missed talking to you, and falling asleep in your hotel room when she couldn't sleep, and she missed when she would sit between your legs on the floor and you would play with her hair before a show.

Ellie missed you, and she didn't know what the hell got here in this position to begin with.

It was frustrating her so much, that she had been fucking up at your last few shows. Her fingers would slip when she was playing because she was too focused on looking at you, praying that you would turn your head and smile at her while you sang, like you always did. Or she would almost trip over the wires that came out of her electric guitar, ruining the entire set.

Ellie had known you a long fucking time, and never once had you ignored her for this long.

She sighed softly as she tuned up her guitar, furrowing her eyebrows every time a particularly sharp note would come out when she tried strumming. She had drove down to the venue with Charlie, leaving Dylan to find you and come down after.

She was determined to finally get answers tonight.

Ellie was far too deep in thought to realize that you had finally walked in with Dylan. The second she heard your voice talking to your manager, her head shot up in your direction, and her eyes were nearly bulging out of her head.

You always looked hot when you performed, and Ellie always stared when you weren't looking. However, the clothes you had on tonight made the silent treatment that you had been giving Ellie all the more worse.

The black top you have on has the prettiest thin straps that are tied into bows at the top of your shoulders, your tits pushed up perfectly, the black mini skirt you wore leaving so much of your pretty plus thighs exposed, and your favorite leather jacket and black boots.

And Ellie can't even walk up to you to tell you how gorgeous you look.

☆ﾟ.*･｡

The show went down as one of your favorites.

You felt so confident, so loud, so pretty. It was rare that you put a ton of effort into your performance these days, especially with how upset the entire Ellie situation had you. But this show changed your mind about all of that.

The energy that the crowd gave was so intense, so vibrant, so colorful, and you felt so in tune with your bandmates.

Even Ellie

It felt like she was trying her hardest to stay with you, to stay in the same lane as you as you gave your performance your all. There were moments where the noises that came out of you were unbelievable to you, let alone everyone else.

After the show, you and the others decided to keep the party going at a nearby club. You usually opted to going back to the hotel and hanging out in a more intimate setting, always wanting to be closer with your friends..with Ellie.

But the energy that you had was too high to push down, and you weren't going to let it go to waste.

You giggled softly at something Charlie said, nodding as you took another sip of your drink. You groaned softly once you saw yet another round of shots coming towards your private table that your manager had gotten you before you arrived. You took one off the tray, throwing it back with a wince.

When you put it down, you forgot for a moment who it was that was sitting across from you, and you locked eyes with piercing green ones that had been staring longingly into yours the entire night.

Her stare made your stomach do flips, and it was almost as if she had you under a spell for a moment because it was hard to look away.

You cleared your throat, blinking your eyes for a moment as you looked away from her.

And it was as if an angel came to your rescue, because when you looked away you caught eye of a different pair of eyes staring at you from across the club. The flashing lights made it hard to see, however it was no secret that the girl that was staring at you wanted you.

Suddenly, you were doing something you rarely did.

You got up from the table, quickly mumbling an excuse of needing to go to the bar, and you left, your eyes never leaving the girls.

She caught on quickly, because as soon as you were pressed up against the bar, she was scooting in next to you, her hip bumping gently against yours as she smirked down at you.

She tells you her name is Ash, and when she's whispering in your ear about how pretty you are, her voice dripping with lust, you realize that you think Ash is pretty too.

It doesn't take long for her to have her hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to her body. You giggle softly as she pulls you in, because she's warm and inviting and..

she reminds you of Ellie.

Who is of course, staring at you from across the club.

Ellie has always noticed the attention you got, and she's always thanked her lucky stars that you always shot down any advances that were made your way whenever you guys were all out.

But right now you weren't. You were pressed up against another girl, her lips dangerously close to your neck as she whispers in your ear, her hands toying with the bottom of your skirt..

And it made Ellie fucking seethe with anger.

She's praying that you'll come to your senses and leave that idiot that has you pressed into her chest, but you don't. You're giggling and batting your eyelashes and you're acting like a stupid fucking groupie.

Just like the ones she fucks almost every night.

All of a sudden, your hand is interlocked with the girls and she's pulling you out of the club, and Ellie doesn't think she's ever gotten through a crowd of people faster in her entire fucking life. Because in seconds, she's caught up with you and the girl, and she's standing in front of you so that you both can't pass.

You don't even realize it at first, you think you might have gone the wrong way and hit a wall or something.

But once your eyes trail up the tall frame that is standing in front of you, and you're locking eyes with Ellie, you feel like you're dreaming.

"Ellie? What...what are you doing? Come on, get out of the way" You huff softly, far too annoyed to keep up with the silent treatment that you had for her. You press your hand to her side so you can push her out the way, but she doesn't budge.

She's staring at the girl that was taking you out of the club, and you're sure that if looks could kill, Ash would be on the floor dead right now.

"She's drunk, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ellie barks out, her voice is stern and protective and she has her strong arms crossed over her chest.

Ash chuckles softly as she raises her eyebrows in disbelief, looking at Ellie before looking down at you. "This your fuckin girl or something?" She says to you, and you're quickly shaking your head, denying her question.

"No! No she's...we're in a band-" You try to explain, but Ellie is cutting you off.

"Doesn't fuckin matter, man. I said she's drunk, so you need to leave her alone" She yells over the music, and Ash looks down at you in disbelief before she stares at Ellie once again, taking your hand and pulling you closer to Ellie before letting you go.

"Whatever, last time I pick up some chick at the club" She chuckles softly.

You feel like a fucking joke.

Because for the first time, you're being spontaneous and doing things that normal girls your age do, and you finally feel fucking normal..

And Ellie has to come in and ruin it.

You stare up at her in disbelief, because she has a stupid look of triumph written all over her face, and she's smirking like she's fucking won something, and all you want to do is scream at her.

So you do.

You push her chest back forcefully, and it's her turn to stare at you like you're crazy. "Are you fucking serious?? Im barely fucking drunk!! What makes you think you can...can reprimand me like that?" You scream at her, and Ellie isn't sure she's happy you're finally speaking to her, or if this was all a mistake to begin with.

Ellie frowns as she grabs your wrists, trying to stop you from pushing her back any further. But she doesn't, and before she knows it, you're both outside of the club, the cold air hitting her face.

"She was..she was trying to take advantage of you! Can't you see that?" She pleads. You roll your eyes, giving her a scoff.

"Funny that your moral high ground has suddenly kicked in, because I have seen you stumble into practice countless times drunk off your ass with a girl just as drunk as you are! What makes you fucking think that you have any say in what I do? If I want to hookup with someone at a bar, I can do that! Im a fucking grown up Ellie" You're screaming at her, and she winces at your words because the mere thought of you doing it, hurts her.

But you aren't done.

"Do you know how hard it is for me Ellie? How hard it is for me to...to feel like im doing this shit right? To feel fucking wanted by someone? Especially when my bandmates talk about how undesirable I am? How fucking clingy I am?" You sob, because at this point all of your feelings are bubbling to the surface, and you can't hold it in anymore. Months of feeling like something was wrong with you, followed by an entire week of feeling like you're the most unwanted person by the words of your bandmate finally weigh in on you.

And for once, you don't stop it.

Ellie's eyes are wide, because she finally realizes what she's done to deserve everything you've given her..or a lack thereof.

She opens her mouth to speak, to tell you that none of that is true, that you are the most desired person on the entire fucking planet, that she's wanted you from the moment she set eyes on you.

But nothing comes out.

You scoff, roughly wiping the tears from your cheeks as you shake your head. "Typical...you know what? Fuck you Ellie..." You mumble out, turning around and walking back to your hotel room.

And all Ellie can do is watch, because her years of being a coward have finally caught up to her. And because of it..

She's lost you.

[spenceragnewfics]

I'M SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS!!!!!! I'll be so hyped for whatever you write!

Maybe a frisky 18+ Fic of the reader being so into Spencer wearing that choker at Erin's party (I hope you know what im talking about lol) that they hit on him for the first time. And they end up going home together.

AHH! I know exactly what you're talking about and honestly I was hoping someone had written something about it but hey, I'm okay with doing it!

CHOKE ME | Spencer Agnew x Reader | 18+ MINORS DNI

I did my best to make this GN because I didn't know if you wanted that for F!reader.

TW: Smut, choking, allusion to alcohol, oral, the usual smut stuff

Word count: 2.5k

Description: Y/N is Erin's roommate and best friend since forever. Having grown close to the Smosh crew because of her friendship with Erin, they've grown a crush on a certain director of gaming. Now at Erin's birthday party a certain accessory sets everything into motion.

The music in the club was bumping as Y/N took a sip of their drink. Usually they don’t go out and party but it was one of their best friend and roommate’s, Erin Dougal’s birthday to be exact. The two have known each other for years and despite being opposites with certain things, they are close like siblings.

The theme of Erin’s party was emo, a look Y/N doesn’t do often but had the perfect all black outfit for that made them look irresistible. An unexpected addition to the outfit was a little victorian choker on their neck. Erin had made several for all her friends to wear as a silly joke, everyone played into it perfectly.

The club was full of people but it was mostly Smosh cast and crew. Which is where Y/N currently was, hanging out with Angela, Chanse, and the birthday girl herself, dancing along to the Doja Cat song playing. While Y/N didn’t work at Smosh, they did know a lot of the cast and crew as they visited Erin a lot and well the two are roommates so it’s just how things fall.

The four are singing along to the song and dancing close together until Erin gently places her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Come with me to get another drink!” She yells close to their ear so they can hear over the music. They nod and the two go over to the bar together, as they walk away from the dance floor the music gets softer which makes it easier for them to talk.

“So, how’s your birthday so far, lovely?” Y/N asks, wrapping her arm around Erin’s. “It’s been amazing so far! Thank you so much for coming out, I know this isn’t really your thing but I’m so glad you’re here.” The birthday girl is obviously drunk with how her words and movement is but the sentiment is real.

“Of course, anything for you Dougie.” Erin groans at the nickname as the two get to the bar. She orders a drink while Y/N continues to sip on their’s. Their eyes start to look around and take in the atmosphere of the bar. The area where you get your drink and hang out is very fancy and regal which transforms into a very interesting dance floor area that matches everything else but still seems a little weird.

Taking a moment to themself, Y/N takes a deep breath then sips their drink, “Holy fuck! Spencer!” Erin yells excitedly which makes Y/N spit out their drink. ‘Spencer’s here?! Erin said he couldn’t make it!’ They think to themself as their eyes move over to where Erin is…or…well…was. Now the girl is running over and hopping into Spencer’s arms.

After a moment Erin walks back over with Spencer following behind her. “Y/N/N, sorry, didn’t mean to run off but Spencer is here.” Y/N waves, “Hey, Spence. Glad you could make it.” He smiles at them as he walks over, “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss this. Erin always knows how to throw a ranger.” He says before turning to order a drink.

“Oh, Spencer! You need one of these!” Erin pulls out one of the chokers that everyone is wearing. “What is this?” Spencer asks, chuckling as he looks at the item in his hand. “It’s a choker with one of my thirst traps on it. It’s part of the party requirement. Y/N you should help him put it on.” Erin says, winking at them before walking off. 

Erin knew of Y/N’s feelings for Spencer. It was pretty obvious from the first time the two met plus Erin knew that Spence was their type. She’s been trying for a while to get the two of them together but there has never really been a good time for them to just talk and get to know each other until tonight. Erin had planned for this to be the kickstart of their relationship and later tell her plan at their future wedding.

“Do you…” Y/N starts pointing to the choker in his hand. “If you don’t mind, I’ve never worn one of these things.” He says chuckling. Y/N nods and takes the choker then walks behind him. Their fingers work quickly to tie the choker but not too tight, “That okay?” He nods and they back around.

“How do I look? Like an idiot?” Spencer asks, grabbing his drink that the bartender gives him. He doesn’t notice the way Y/N is looking at him, the choker making him look even hotter than normal and that is something they never thought could happen.

“No, no, you look…you look good.” Y/N says, trying to hide the nervousness in their voice. They take a big sip of their drink as Spencer smiles at them, “Should we go find everyone? Or are you okay with just staying here?” He asks, walking over to them. “Well I was dancing not too long ago, so if you want to come and watch that or even join the group then that would be fun.”

He chuckles and nods his head, the two chit chat as they walk into the dancing area of the club. Y/N shows him the table where Erica, Kiana, and Peter were sitting. Setting their drinks down, the two of them walk onto the dance floor and join the others already there.

Y/N dances with their friends and drinks throughout the night. Unknowingly, they end up dancing against someone. Turning around, they see that the person they’re dancing with is Spencer. Usually, this would freak them out but the drinks throughout the night have given them confidence. They’re not even tipsy, just calm and have some liquid confidence in their system.

They lean into him and he puts his hands on their hips. Putting their hands on his shoulders, they lean up to his ear “You look really hot in that choker.” He looks at them shocked as they continue to dance to the beat. “Are you serious?” He asks and they laugh, “Come on, Spence. How can you not know how hot you are?” They ask, their eyes connecting.

“No one ever really says that. I didn’t know you felt like that.” He says in their ear. “You really can be oblivious sometimes.” They chuckles and looks down at his lips. Looking back up, they raise an eyebrow and he nods. Cupping his face, they pull him down to their lips and it’s like magnets.

Starting slowly, their lips move gently together as he moves his hands to their waist to pull them closer. The kiss quickly turns more passionate as Y/N bites gently onto Spencer’s bottom lip. A groan comes from his throat that makes them even more excited.

Y/N pulls back, smirking as they see Spencer pout a little. “I would love to do this here but I’d rather go somewhere more private.” He smirks, “My place?” he asks and they nod. The two don’t say anything to the group as they quickly walk off the dance floor and to the exit.

The car ride to Spencer’s place is full of tension. His hand is on their thigh squeezing every few moments as they play with his fingers. No words are really said as his car speeds through the streets getting closer to his apartment with each passing moment.

Once the car pulls into the building, Spencer parks and opens the door for Y/N before leading them to his apartment. As the door closes he pins them to the door, his lips attach to theirs. Y/N’s hand finds placement in his hair and runs through his curly hair. They gently pull, earning a moan from Spencer. 

“Mmm, someone likes that.” They mutter against his lips before attaching them again. Spencer places his knee between their legs as he moves his lips down their neck. The scruff of his beard and his soft lips on their sensitive neck is more than enough for Y/N to softly moan his name as he works on their neck. The sound encourages him as he smirks against their neck.

His hands grip the edge of their shirt before leaning back, “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you fully here?” He asks, knowing they drank but just not how much. Y/N’s index finger wraps the velvet of the choker still on his neck and uses it as leverage to pull him closer to their face.

“I am absolutely sure and am very here.” They say, their voice soft as they look into his beautiful dark blue ones. That’s all Spencer needs as he slides his hands under their shirt. The shirt moves with his hands, exposing their chest and Spencer sighs dreamily when he sees it.

Y/N gasps as he suddenly starts to kiss their collarbone and moves down, each kiss moving to more and more sensitive areas that lights their body even hotter. “Spence, please, don’t tease me.” They whine as he gets on his knees. Eye level with their stomach, his eyes move up to stare into Y/N’s as he kisses their stomach gently with small nibbles between every few kisses.

They pull the shirt over their head then put a hand back in his hair. His mouth and hands continue to move down as he slowly pulls off their pants. His warm lips kissing their hips and pelvic bone as it moves lower to the place where they desire him most.

Kicking the pants off, he grabs a leg and puts it on his shoulder as he kisses their inner thigh. The scratch of his beard and his lips starts to make their brain fuzzy. It’s been a long time since someone actually took time to make them feel good and so their body is reacting like it’s the first time.

Pulling their underwear down, he licks a long stripe up as Y/N grips his hair and their head leans back against the door. His lips and tongue work wonders on them as moans, groans, and whimpers escape Y/N. The normally quiet person has thrown that all out the window as they enjoy themself. Feeling safe and cared for is something that they knew would happen with Spencer if this ever happened but it’s even better then they ever imagined.

Looking down, they moan his name as their eyes lock onto his. “God, fuck, how are you this good.” They whine as their hand grips his hair again. This encourages him to keep going as their sweet sounds are all he needs to keep going.

Y/N feels a knot in their stomach as Spencer continues to work magic on them with his mouth. “Please, don’t stop, oh fuck. I’m gonna come.” They moan as the feeling approaches faster and faster. He doesn’t stop but actually speeds up as they wrap their thighs around his head, slightly suffocating him but he’s loving every second.

They scream his name as the feeling bursts, their legs are shaking as the high fills them and Spencer starts to clean every drop. Once he’s done, he stands up and takes off his pants. Already hard and at attention.

“Wait, don’t you want me to-”

“No, tonight is about you. We can do that later.” He assures as he guides them to the couch. He sits down and Y/N straddles his thighs. Licking their hand, they stroke his cock to lubricate before sitting down on it.

Despite all his small dick jokes, Spencer is a pretty good size and girthy. The stretch is a bit much but also so welcomed. “Holy fuck, you’re taking me so well.” He groans, his hands on their hips. It takes Y/N a bit to take him fully but once they do, it’s a feeling like never before.

It’s like it was perfect, not too much and not too little. The two stay like that for a moment, letting Y/N adjust before they start to move up and down. Leaning down, they connect their lips onto Spencer’s as they continue to ride him. 

The two fight for dominance in the kiss as Y/N’s hips continue at a good pace. Spencer grips their hip and starts to slam into them and their lips disconnect. Y/N leans their forehead against his as they moan his name out. “Fuck, Spencer, don’t stop.”

The room is filled with skin slapping and moans, the passion is pulsing between the two of them. Y/N opens their eyes, seeing the choker still around Spencer’s neck, they slide a hand to his neck. Feeling the hand at his throat, he looks at them and nods then feels his body get hot at the lack of oxygen. “Fuck, I love the choker but seeing someone else on it instead of me is very disappointing.” They moan, continuing to choke for just a bit longer. 

Once their hand is off his neck, he flips them over to where Y/N is laying on the couch and he’s on top as his thrust continues their pace. They wrap their legs around his waist to pull him closer and their nails scratch down his back. The feeling of him inside is making their brain fuzzy as the pleasure continues to build.

“I wouldn’t mind having your picture around my neck. You just need to give me it.” He groans, his pace never wavering. This is shocking to Y/N because they didn’t think he would have so much stamina but aren’t complaining. Reaching between them, Spencer starts to rub and it increases Y/N’s pleasure.

It doesn’t take too long for both of them to get close to their apex. “Spence, I’m gonna cum.” Y/N says as their legs tighten even more around him. “Me too, where do you want me to…” He asks, but it trails off as he moans from the tightening felt around him,

“Inside me, It’ll be okay.” They assure as the peak feels closer and closer. “Cum with me, please.” He begs as his thrusts get sloppy. A moment later, they both cum. Sounds of pleasure are loud and resounding as the two enjoy the feeling of their high.

Once the fuzziness clears, Y/N blinks rapidly to bring themself back to earth. Spencer is still on top but his head is laying on their chest as he catches his breath. Y/N runs a hand through his hair with a soft smile, “That was amazing, Spencer.” Their voice is soft and slightly hoarse from the activities that have concluded.

He looks up and smiles back when he sees their face, “It was, and definitely something I want to do again.” He says and caresses their thigh. “I would also love to take you out sometime.” That makes them laugh, “I would love that too, and…” They gently untie the choker and throw it across the room. “To see you without that on until I can make it better.” he chuckles and kisses their thigh before moving up and kissing them softly.

The two stay in that position all night. Cuddled together as they talk before slowly falling asleep on the couch.

[spdrvyn]

hii i love your fics! may i request miguel being jealous because reader gives meows morales too much attention? (cmon man the lil guy is so cute)

the right to be jealous — MIGUEL O'HARA

☆ miguel loathes the fact that he's jealous of a cat, therefore he tries to do something about it.

fluff. jealous miguel. this ask is literally so cute... i wish whoever sent me this a very good day because wow it's so?!!!?! anyway, hi! i'm alive, school has been kicking me in the ass so this is a bit overdue, enjoy anyway ^_^

Your relationship with Miguel started off strong, everything went perfectly. Date nights, missions, and all. He felt so elated, that for once, something in his life went in the right direction, and he didn't feel like it was an error or glitch in the matrix.

He thought that you were absolutely flawless too, you had good looks, a personality that aligns with his so well, not to mention that you were endlessly patient with him. It was a quality that he'd forever be grateful, this relationship was something that he'd forever be grateful for.

... So why was he getting jealous over a cat?

"Look at you, aren't you the cutest, most handsome thing ever?" you cooed at the feline, grazing your fingers over the cat's belly, and it purrs in your grasp which causes you to squeal. "I can't believe that grumpy over there hasn't told me about you!"

I had a good reason, he wanted to say, but whatever. It was fine, everything was fine, and he could handle it. However, the scowl that permanently rested on his features deepened, you pick up on it and chuckle. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he grumbles, turning so that his back faces you. It's not that he had an issue with the cat, it's just that all of those kisses, those compliments, and more could be going to him instead. Did he feel selfish for it? Absolutely. Would he stop feeling this way? Absolutely not.

"Miguel..." Oh no. He knew what that tone meant, bringing the palm of his hand to his face, he groans lowly before you're slinging Meows over his shoulder. "Come on, what did Meows Morales do to you, huh?"

He doesn't respond, doesn't even bother to look at you. His fingers pad along his screens and bringing files that haven't been opened up in years, he just wants to look like he's doing something but in truth, he's trying to escape your ruthless teasing.

"You're very cute when you pout, you know?" It sends a shudder up his spine, normally Miguel was very resistant with praise and let's not forget the tiny animal that's rubbing up his cheek and purring.

But when it came to you, the way that the words rolled off of your tongue, the way you looked at him, he could feel it to his very core and his heart was just so full. You could kill him with praise alone and he would die a happy man.

"And your hair," He's about to question the loss of Meows on his shoulder until you suddenly tangle your fingers at the top of his head and fix any fallen strands, pushing back his hair a little. "I think it suits you very well, you always look handsome. Even when you don't try."

Miguel's heart isn't beating as loud as a drum anymore, at this point it's the whole band. Melodious tunes that sing from the deep parts of his soul and they sing for you, his breath hitches when you slide your hand down to cup his cheek and make him properly face you.

"Hey," is all you say, yet it drives him mad.

He grabs your wrist, pushing your body up against his desk as he pins you down. Your faces are merely inches away from each other, but he leans in even closer, and you can feel his breath against your ear. "You have no idea what you do to me."

He pulls back from the crevice of your neck but still keeps that closeness, his eyes dart to your lips then back up to, and he's just about to absolutely devour you until you push your palms flat up against his chest and he stops.

"Wait," You exhale with shaky breaths, "The cat's still here."

From the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of Meows on his desk in some sort of tucked in position. He sighs before scooping him up in his arms, muttering some Spanish phrases under his breath but you can't even tell if they're meant in offense or not.

He carefully tosses him off of the platform with a huff, standing back up to full height and finally being able to direct his full attention to you. "Now,"

"Where were we?"

[steddieas-shegoes]

Congratulations on 3k! Really enjoy your drabbles and fics :)

"Who cares if it was meant to be or not?"

Thank you so much!

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

The band took the stage a few minutes late. Eddie had gone missing shortly before their final warning, and they can’t exactly perform without their lead guitarist.

When he was found, he’d been crying, but he brushed it off like it was nothing, said he was good to go.

He wasn’t. He had one of the worst shows of his life. Not a great look for a band trying to get a headlining tour.

No one said anything after; Eddie was already upset enough. With himself, with someone else, maybe both.

Eventually, Jeff couldn’t take the moping.

“Alright, man. You wanna tell us what’s going on? We just had a pretty shitty show and you look like you’re ready to have a breakdown,” he said as he sat next to Eddie on the couch of their tour bus.

“Sorry. Um. Sorry guys. Just. Had it out with Steve earlier.”

“Is-“ Gareth started to ask. “Are you guys okay now? Did you call him after?”

“No. No, I don’t think he wants me to.”

Everyone stared at Eddie in disbelief. Sure, they teased him all the time for falling for the jock stereotype, but they were perfect for each other. Everyone who knew them knew that.

“Why not?”

“Some things just aren’t meant to be, Gare.”

“No! Fuck that! Who cares if it was meant to be or not?” Gareth paced the floor. “You guys are so good together. You’re like a damn romance novel or something. Like those stupid chick flicks.”

“Gareth.” Jeff’s tone got his attention, but Eddie didn’t look up. “It’s not our business.”

“Like hell it isn’t. He just played like shit! We deserve to know why.”

Eddie stood up and walked to his bunk.

“Good job, idiot,” Grant rolled his eyes and followed.

“I’m calling Steve,” Gareth said. “Something’s gotta be done.”

“Dude, just leave it. They’ll either work it out or they won’t.”

“And if they don’t, Eddie’s gonna be like this forever.” Gareth pulled his cell phone from his pocket and opened his text thread with Steve. “If it’s so bad, Steve will ignore me.”

Hey call me

Not now

Please Eddie’s a fuckin mess

Gareth’s phone started ringing. He smirked up at Jeff, who walked away with his hands crossed over his chest.

“Steve.”

“Is Eddie okay?”

“No. What happened? We just had the shittiest show-“

“But is he okay?”

“No! What happened before the show?”

He could hear Steve sniffle.

“I just. It’s hard. It’s hard being here and he’s never here. And I know that’s what we agreed was best for this tour, but it’s hard. And he keeps saying he misses me and it hurts because what am I supposed to do?” Steve was crying now, Gareth was fighting his own tears. “So I told him to do something about it earlier and he told me he couldn’t and it turned into us arguing about his priorities and I didn’t even mean that I thought the band was more important than me, it just sucks. It’s hard.”

“Steve, I get it man. I mean, I don’t. But I know it’s hard. For both of you. Did you-“ Gareth bit his lip. “Did you break up?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Can you unbreak up?”

“Maybe. But-“

“Gareth, who is that?” Eddie’s voice asked from the curtain to the bunk beds. His eyes were red, tear tracks not even dry on his cheeks. “Is that Steve?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie came over and sat next to Gareth, grabbing the phone from him.

“Steve?” He sounded broken. “Are you okay?”

Gareth got up and went back to the bunks.

“The fuck did you do?” Jeff asked.

“Fixed it. You’re both welcome,” Gareth got in bed and smiled as he heard Eddie laugh.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

The next night was better.

The night after that, Steve was standing backstage, wearing Eddie’s vest and singing along to the songs.

And every night after that, and on their first headlining tour, and their next one, and their next one, Steve was there for most nights.

Eddie gave his everything because he had his everything.

[kaixserzz]

i just had to let this out. if i dont i will die. anyways im super in love with dottore !! so have this kinda self indulgent fic where its super disgustingly fluffy and just reader being a huge fucking love struck loser :3 there needs to be more dottore fics i swear :( (actually have no idea what im going with this but its fluff so whatever) oh ya allowing drabble rqs but only for dottore LOL (pantalone too actually!1)

dottore drabble x5 "luv u, luv u 2" (cw: a little descriptive about blood, veins and ur heart LOL)

you've long accepted that dottore has different ways of expressing his affection for you. it wasn't what you'd consider the norm from what you could tell by observing other relationships, but then again, he was never to be categorized with others. same goes for you, after you barged into dottore's life.

so, as the years go by, you've learned to identify these expressions of love that are only unique to you. some of them are odd, if you'll admit, but it was more endearing than unsettling.

he doesn't say much, it seems like being completely honest, even to you, has been forever deeply ingrained into his mind. but his actions do say a lot more than he'll ever say to you.

this doesn't mean you're not going to tease it out of him.

"dottore," you call his name with a sing-song voice, walking across his lab with a pep on your step. it echoed into the bustling room, mixing along with the other footsteps of segments scattered about. some had turned their heads in your direction, only to stick their nose up in the air and go back to whatever they were doing with a huff.

aw, you'll have to give them some attention later on. but for now, your target was dottore, your darling zandik.

you wrapped your arms around his waist as you buried your face onto his back, his hair tickling your nose. he didn't even flinch at your sudden hug, only continued to mix chemicals in the vials he held in his gloved hands. "i love you." you cooed behind him, your fingers playing with the lapels of his lab coat, before intertwining and resting your hands on his abdomen.

you could feel his stomach rise and fall along with his chest with every breath he took, and if you slid your hands up a little higher, you could feel his pulse quicken, only for a little. despite it all, to you, he was only human. a mortal, your lover.

then, you press a kiss on the back of his neck, mumbling another, "i love you!", only to receive a small hum of acknowledgement from dottore, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly as one of his hands was now laid atop of yours, thumb rubbing circles on your skin, not bothered by your intrusion one bit. you smiled against his clothes, but you wanted to prod him for more. "i love you, dottore." you say again, your embrace tightening. "gods, i love you soooo much. i love you~"

you repeated again and again, rather shamelessly at that. you moved at each 'i love you', and at this point, you've slid yourself around his torso, squeezing yourself into his arms. so now your face is buried onto his neck as you continue to spill all of your love for him until you've eventually riled him up to his limit.

what you didn't expect, was for him to put down the vials he had in his hands, and to finally reciprocate your hug. his hand was on the back of your head, gently patting and playing with your hair, while his chin was rested atop your head.

and oh, to be in his embrace. it's not like it's rare for him to hug you, he has grown to be a bit more physically affectionate ever since you've started dating, but for him to stop whatever he's doing just to indulge in your musings? ah, it was utter bliss in his arms, and you melted into a puddle of love-struck goo.

"what's with all of this, now?" dottore mused with a chuckle. and gods, you always loved it when he laughed, his chest rumbling against your body, and the hairs on your forearms stood. "i do believe i have provided you with ample attention this morning for you to survive for a couple of hours on your own."

you giggle at his words, allowing him to push aside some of his stuff on his desk and sit you atop it, fitting himself between your legs and pulling you impossibly closer to him. you didn't answer him though, only chanting 'i love you into his ear, cooing and planting kisses all over his face. he seems to be entranced by your display of affection, letting you take off his mask, your fingers dancing against his marred skin, littered with scars and burns.

he knows you love every single one of them, kissing the sensitive skin, the sensation leaving him all tingly and warm on the inside. quickly, he pulled his gloves off of his hands and wrapped them around your neck.

your eyes flicker to his for a moment, curious, but still trusting. not a single care for the hands tainted with the black tar of crimes he has committed, of all the sins that crawled and scratched on his back, of all the scars that serve an everlasting reminder of everything he has done. too easily, his hands could snap your neck, as if you were nothing.

"i love you."

but both you and zandik know he'd never try to do such a thing. his hands just fit perfectly around your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse points. surging with blood, just underneath your skin, heart beating, alive in his hands, and loving him, of all people.

then, amidst your confessions to him, you pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes. "what do you think you're doing?" you trusted dottore with all your life, though the look he had on your neck while he lightly squeezed was odd. "don't look at me like i am a mere cadaver." you hiss.

he lips stretched into a big grin, sharp teeth showing all their glory to you as he leaned his face was inches apart from yours. "oh, my dearest," dottore's hands were now on your back, wrapping his arms around you once more. you shivered at the pet name, so easily allured by everything he does and says. "you are more than that. makes it more interesting for me to observe and study."

you gave him a playful glare, "try and i'll stab your neck with a scalpel." and though you threatened him, your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs tenderly massaging his scars. he leans against your touch and closes his eyes, grin never leaving his lips. "my, and you were just telling me that you loved me repeatedly just a moment ago. have you stopped loving me?"

"i will if you start cutting me open without my permission!"

"so you will let me study you if i asked."

"don't ask!" you huffed, crossing your arms at him. "be content with what you have!"

"oh, but we are scholars, my love." he purrs into your ear, and he sees how quick you crumble beneath him. "we strive for more, don't we?" you roll your eyes at that, opening your mouth to argue with him more, but he shushes you with his finger.

"tell me you love me."

you blink at him, surprised, before smiling widely with sparkling eyes. "i love you." you say, breathless as he sighs at those words.

"again."

you chuckle, "my, how greedy."

dottore only scoffed, and tugged at your hair impatiently. "again," he demanded, and you could only giggle and say, "i love you," and again, and again.

and when he has had enough, he shuts you up with a kiss. long, passionate, and always ends up bloody. he can't help but bite your bottom lip every time you kiss. you look so gorgeous with bruised lips and blood dribbling down your chin, anyway. you don't mind, licking your lips with a grin.

"i love you, zandik."

"i love you too, my dearest."

it wasn't often for you to hear those words from his lips, but you cherish every moment he does.

- ̥��͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[velnica]

Afternoon Nap (Sanson/Guydelot)

They'd crashed into Sanson's childhood bed not long after lunch, the early summer warmth and their full bellies creating the perfect combination to lull them into a relaxed mood. Guydelot grumbled after hitting the footboard with his toes—again—as Sanson giggled, two sets of limbs awkwardly jostling to find a good spot. This bed was far too small for the both of them, but there was no way Guydelot was going to rest without Sanson next to him so he persevered, whining when he hit the wall with his heel this time. In the end Sanson, exasperated and amused in equal measure, slung one leg over Guydelot's hips to pin him down and they settled at last for a lazy afternoon nap.

------

Sanson's childhood bedroom is part of my Modern AU Singing Along to the Start of Forever.

[leclsrc]

could i get a carlos imagine where you have commitment issues and he calms you down? as a girlie with commitment/trust issues i just wanna b repped in one of ur fics/drabbles :/// it's tuff out here brotha

bring you home — cs55

Moving in together gets difficult. Carlos is there to ease you along. title from this

genre: fluff

auds here... i hope you enjoy this!!! i too am a commitment-afflicted girl ..... it truly is tough lol. but i hope u find the right person who helps u put ur anxieties to rest <3 insp by a scene from satc i saw on tiktok

It started with a duck. But the duck started with the box. And the box started with a toothbrush joke. And the toothbrush joke started with your old lady neighbor moving out. So really, it started with Mrs. McDonnell and her massive moving van rolling down the street and leaving the flat next door empty. Somehow that old hag had managed to irritate you long after she left, albeit through means not her own.

In terms of time, it started a month ago. In terms of people (sans the old bitch), it started with Carlos, as so many of your stories do. “Mrs. McDonald finally moved out today,” he’d said, hip against your stove, watching bits of garlic turn from pale to brown. From the living room you hummed affirmation and then laughed: “McDonnell.”

“Donald, Donnell, Dinero,” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s moving in and out. Charles bought a new place in Monaco.”

“Well,” you shrugged, fixing the ridden-up hem of your tank top, “you could have an extra toothbrush in here, if that gets y’there.”

He laughed, pointing at you with the oil-hot rubber tip of the spatula. You two had been dating for over a year at that point, yet any suggestions of moving in together remained vague, cloudish ideas in both of your heads. For him it was impractical; for you it was a little scary.

But a toothbrush, which he always had at your flat and you at his, wasn’t moving in together. Neither was a drawer of clothes and knick-knacks. It was a symbol of your busy lives and the intermittent intersections far and few between.

Except they’d been becoming less intermittent and a lot more constant. He was almost always at your flat, the wide two-bedroom you’d decided was a good place to live with your income and the area. You had two parking spaces, a good rep with the board, and a coffee shop across the street—a place all your own.

A little plus was you had Carlos on some free days, like that day—that fateful day he turned back to the pan and said, with a smile: “I should move in.”

You froze. “You’re asking—you’re telling me or the garlic?” In fits of nerves, you could only blurt out bad jokes.

He laughed but it was a small exhale of breath. “I’m serious.” He turned to you, brown eyes big.

Your heart swelled with something between apprehension and absolute excitement, that finally you were going to take a step you felt like you’d been waiting to take forever. “You are?” You asked, so giddily you could hear your own smile.

The truth was, you had moved in with a boyfriend before, offered him a key and suggested the entire affair, bought fresh flowers and cooked eggs and made coffee and lived the bliss you only read about in romance novels. Months later you caught him fucking somebody else in your bedroom, and years later the memory fails to purge itself from your mind or your habits, plaguing every inner thought you have.

But this, you assure yourself, is Carlos.

“Dead seriou—uuooof!” Carlos barely got to the end of his sentence, with the way you barrelled into him, smiling into the blocky build of his chest and muttering a repetitive yes yes yes into the cotton of his tee. He held you there, pressing a kiss to your hair and promising he’d be in with his boxes as soon as time made way.

—

“Make way,” you yell into the tiny gap between your door and its frame.

“Hey, hi, hello,” your boyfriend sing-songs. “How are you?”

In the month you’d spent watching your boyfriend move into your flat, you’d also been subjected to your complete lack of personal space. Every time you entered, he’d be there talking his head off. Every time you came home at night, he’d be there. You felt suffocated. Scared, even if you couldn’t sleep at night without some part of you touching him. You’re simply a human with needs, and you needed space. You needed silence. Needed it. Absolutely needed it. You knew this because every time you opened your own door, it collided with a—

“Box.” You shove yourself through the gap and wedge the door closed, pointing an accusatory finger at the cardboard. “Another box by the door. Don’t make me burn those,” you mutter, fussing with your hair and toeing off your Blahniks. Across the foyer, Carlos is nailing something into the wall, noisy and incessant and you want to shrink into the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. Lo siento. I have so many stuff.”

“Yeah! You do. My flat’s only nay fucking big,” you respond, raising your pointer finger and thumb to exaggerate the size of your (in actuality, wide) living space. “Carlos, couldn’t you unpack some of these? Just some. It’s—you know, it’s piling up. And you know I hate mess.”

“I know, baby. I will as soon as I finish this up. I promise.”

You nod once, sighing and moving into the study to gather your laptop for work. You’re halfway into the room, eyes scanning your desk’s surface and finding your Mac laying flat atop it, unassuming next to a figurine of a wooden duck. You pause and blink. The wooden duck does not, its eyes painted wide and smooth and you definitely did not purchase this duck.

Somehow, this is the straw that breaks your back.

“What is this duck doing here?!” You yell, voice loud even from the study into the foyer. Carlos pulls off the goggles he’d been wearing to drill shit into your wall and smiles. A gift from me.

“A gif—I, I, I don’t like ducks.” You flail your arms around. “I just… hearing you talk or drill as soon as I come into my own home feels weird. For so long I’ve been alone and… and I’m supposed to hear silence and I—I’m scared that you’re going to figure out how scared I am and you’re going to leave me.”

He just stares, eyebrows knitted. You smother a hand over your face. You pause and breathe for a minute, then two.

“It’s just—I’ve only lived with someone three months, and that was ages ago, and before that it was my parents, so. I’m going to be really frank with you and I’m sorry if this sounds… but I’m gonna close the bedroom door and I don’t want you to talk to me for thirty minutes. I need space. And keep the duck first. I’m sorry. Is that selfish? Is that okay?” When he shakes his head and then nods, you deposit it into his arms and back up into your room.

His face, torn between concerned and endeared, softens into an understanding, patient smile. Okay, he mouths. I love you, you mouth back, and then you’re shutting it softly, leaning your forehead against the white wood and letting a long exhale leave your lips. You half-expected him to fight you back, to raise his voice, but it’s your own worst expectations weighing down on you all over again, born out of memories of your ex.

You stay like that for a while, and slowly with the quiet you realize—you find the duck cute.

You like the boxes because they remind you this is becoming a home. You like hearing him talk because it means you know he’s there. (The drilling will always be irritating, but he makes it better.) You don’t dislike anything he does, but you’re not totally lying either: you are scared. Scared of the commitment it’d take to make this a sure thing. The commitment you’d given before and the commitment that’d been betrayed.

But this is Carlos. This is Carlos, who’s understood every part of you, who’s given you time and patience even when you didn’t know how much you needed it. The Carlos who knows how you like your toast, who eats the yolk off your sunny-side eggs and gives you the white of his hard-boiled ones. The Carlos who said I love you first, surprising you into shock, and then took it back in embarrassment before you cut him off with a kiss. The Carlos who stays.

The air clears and you breathe easier. You open the door after five minutes. “You okay?”

He’s unpacking a box. He turns and smiles wryly, mimicking a zip motion across his lips. He shakes his head. No talking, remember?

You pout, smiling. “Sorry if I’m neurotic.”

You pad softly toward him and it’s easy, too easy for him to pick you up into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist, stay standing and hugging you. He’s quiet still, patient, warm. “I like hearing you talk. I like your boxes. I like that you’re mine and we’re here.” You inhale. “‘M just scared. And I don’t… want to be, but I am, and… it’s just me. I’m crazy.”

“Hey, Crazy. So am I. Take your time.” He hugs you tighter. “I’m not gonna leave you, even if you hated the duck.” I didn’t, you say quietly. It was cute. “I know it’s hard, baby. I know. You have to let me take care of you. You have me, okay? You have me.”

“And when you’re not here?” Fear slithers up and tries to tug at you but his arms are around you, secure and holding you there, so you don’t let it.

The thing with needs, really, is when they’re met—met in the best, most understanding way, especially…

He kisses your neck. “I’ll always be.”

…You find you no longer need them at all.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

you're gonna go far

eddie & wayne picture fic based on this post

(long post ahead, but bear with me)

4/10/1984 Eddie,  I’m starting this letter after you came home with the letter from the school saying you’re not graduating this year.  I could tell you didn’t believe me when I told you it’ll be alright, that it’ll all work out in the end. That it did for me when I had the same talk with my pa.. but you eventually stepped back from the edge, I think, you’re in your room now. There was something else there too, which is really why I'm writing this now. You have the same look in your eye that I saw in my own reflection long before I got drafted, the look I saw in your dad’s when Lizzie told us she was pregnant.  You’re already planning your escape.  And I won’t hold it against you when you do kick rocks, I just pray you give me a little warning so I can say goodbye. And I ain’t a praying man. I’m tucking away some cash with this for when you go. Don’t have much, but I have you. And I wanna make sure you have the best start you possibly can.

10/11/1984 It’s been rough for you again. Working at Merrill’s has been good for you. Getting fresh air, sunshine, shit, even your gangly noodles you call arms are looking less noodley. But they just sent you home early today.. something wrong with the crop and they won’t need the extra hands this season. That, starting school again, even Ronnie leaving last week.. I know you two kids were close. You ain’t even getting all excited for halloween! Adding some more cash for you, little more than I could last time.  Just hang in there kiddo. 

6/5/1985 I think you think you don’t know, and I’m willing to let you pretend for a little while longer, but shit, Eddie, you think I wouldn’t know when graduation was supposed to be just because you weren’t the one to tell me? You know I won’t be mad at you. If you don’t say anything for another week, I will. 6/7/1985 - There it is.

7/22/1985 I was able to talk you down again that night, and you ‘re getting back to your old self again. I still can’t believe you had your whole room all packed up like that. I’ll give ya that speech all over again as many times as you need, but I’ll write it down here for you: You’re gonna go far, Eddie. You’re gonna tear outta here next year and you’re gonna knock ‘em all dead. You are so talented, you are much more than any of us Munsons have ever been or will ever be, and you’re gonna be the biggest star in the world. You mark my words. And I know you’re gonna fight leavin’ when the time comes, thinking you need to take care of me or some crap but I promise you: The birds’ll still sing, the trailer will still creak, the leaves will die and fall like they do every year, but I’ll be here whenever you need to come back. I’ll be here as long as you need. If that’s forever, so be it.

8/15/1985 I’m taking you up north this weekend. Just to get away, y’know? Before your LAST senior year starts. Might be cutting it a little close on funds, happens when you’re trying to survive, but we’re overdue for a change of scenery. We ain’t living just to die. Only a little going in this time, but I’ll be damned if I don’t add something along with a new note.

10/5/1986 Been a while since I added to this, huh? Well, it’s finally happening. You are leaving tomorrow and boy did you make a stink before you did. Went on a whole tirade about needing to get out of this damn town, about not being able to get anywhere when everyone except me is against you. I wanted to point out that you’ve got your band guys and that Harrington boy in your corner too, but I didn't think you’d like me interrupting your whole big speech about who it is you love and being queer and all that with a “Yeah. I know. You and Steve make moon-eyes at each other all the damn time.” I’ll make sure to pass on your info to him when I get it. He doesn’t seem like one to hold a grudge (or at least not hold it long), so I'm sure he’ll be the first in line to greet you the next time you find yourself in our neck of the woods. Those kids’ll miss you too y’know. They’ll be college age before you know it. I’m gonna pack up this envelope and stash it in your stuff somewhere I know you’ll find it again. so you can find it when you need it. Can’t believe I managed to save you close to a grand. Not enough by a long shot, but it’ll help ya for a while. Been saving for a years now, y’know..  Now Eddie. I told you all this last year, and just now before you slunk off to bed, but here it is again, just in case you need to hear it: - I’m proud of you. - I love you more than you’ll know. - You love whoever it is you want to love (as long as i’m on that list somewhere) - I’m glad you’re getting out of here when you can. And I’ll continue to be glad that you did even when things get hard. When I’m doing all the chores around here myself, when I go visit Al in county even though I know all we’re gonna do is fight… I’ll be so grateful you’re making your own way in the world far from here. I’m not angry at you, Teddy. But you’ll be the greatest thing I’ve lost. I’ll always be here if you need me. Wayne

some notes!

-i hc wayne as a military man ofc and bc of that, my own sloppy, all caps, post military handwriting is perfect for him!

-i like to think eddie thinks he's slick and wayne didn't know he liked boys until he was about to leave but wayne knows. of course he knows. al told him why he kicked eddie out, wayne just didn't think it was his place to bring it up before eddie did.

-didn't think too much farther after this, but let's just say that steddie happens when eddie comes back to hawkins in a couple years when the shitheads graduate.

[lowkeychenle]

Within the Piano Keys [ZCL] (M)

Description: For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word...or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you.

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut triple threat ygm

Content Warnings: This fic contains letters from Chenle (purely fictional duh) but does mention things about the graduation system/the Dreamies going through a rough time just FYI! Just a brief mention. And also, smut. this has smut, but it's soft and cute smut because why not.......so literally that's it I think? Who I am these are some light content warnings

Word Count: 7,707

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat (briefly) Jeno & Jaemin, mentions of Mark and Jisung)

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Author's Note: This gif actually kills me someone send 911 emergency services sos zhong chenle is killing me AGAIN

The ghost of the past will always find you.

There’s no outrunning destiny. Who and what you were made to be. And you sure as hell love to try—pushing yourself to change as much as possible to keep Fate on her toes. Sometimes, it’s inevitable. Sometimes, people are placed on the Earth with a specific purpose, and you were sure yours was him. At a mere seven years old, your life changed forever—in a way you never saw coming. When you think about it, you don’t think Fate saw it, either.

Because you met him then.

You remember the day in vivid detail. The soft, sweet melody of the piano drifting through the house, up the stairs, and beneath your bedroom door where you stand, looking for your butterfly hair clip you adore oh so much.

When your frustration reaches its peak and you sit down with a huff on the edge of your bed, you hear it. Your heart seems to beat along with the music, every key pressed making you wonder just who is playing downstairs.

It’s from Phantom of the Opera, a song titled “All I Ask of You.” The melody is full, transcending your body into peace the moment you realize what it is.

After taking a deep breath, you hesitantly make your way down the winding, spiral staircase, fingers tracing along the railings as if they’re too delicate to actually hold on to. Your steps echo downward, but as the young boy comes into view, you stop.

Not even your noisy intrusion breaks him from his music-induced trance. His entire body moves along with the sound, his eyes closed as he presses each note with perfection. His black hair is a bit longer than it probably should be, with a middle part to expose his forehead. His defined brows are furrowed, and even at his age, you’ve never seen someone look wiser than this boy does right at this moment.

You feel the song in your bones, deep within your soul in such an existential way, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever feel anything like it again. A silly, juvenile thought. You don’t know it right now, but you’d feel like that every time you were around him.

As the song comes to a close, he holds out the last note, inhaling deeply as if he hasn’t been breathing the entire time.

His eyes flutter open, warm brown irises immediately meeting yours. You hadn’t expected such depth, but you’d learn eventually never to expect anything with him—in the end, you would only build yourself up to fall…over and over and over again.

Here you stand, locked in a metaphorical embrace with a kid who can’t be any older than you, yet he seems…different. Like he’s seen enough in his lifetime to age him beyond physicality.

That was the day you started to believe in fate. The day he left was when you stopped.

Hours turned into weeks, and before you know it, the boy next door became your friend. Most times, you’d sit on the bench while he plays piano and watch incredulously. His musical talent always astounds you—he can sing, play instruments, write songs and compose them.

Sometimes, he’d ask you to sing the songs he played, and even though you felt nowhere near as talented as him, you did what he wanted. He’d join in with you occasionally, your voices blending together seemingly effortlessly.

Those weeks turned into years—two kids learning more and more about each other. He’d become more than a friend. You were twelve years old when you realized the connection you had with Chenle. When everything pieced together, and you understood that some hearts, some souls, are much older than you could ever fathom. Your heart, you were sure, stretched beyond your years, and your soul was kindred with Chenle’s in a way that could only mean you’d known each other in a past life. Slowly, slowly, slowly…he was everything, all at once.

“You’ve almost got it,” he whispered to you, adjusting your ring finger on the keys. “Just gotta move over a little bit more.”

You pouted. “My hands aren’t big enough, Lele.”

“Stop that.” He chuckled, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. “That mindset is gonna keep you from learning.”

“Well, if my mindset doesn’t do it, the arthritis at a young age will,” you snipped.

His eyes sparkled with humor, crinkling at the edges as his smile widened. “You’ll get it eventually. Keep trying.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll tell you that you suck and you should never play again.”

You snorted. “Promise?”

He held up his pinky. “I’d never lie to you.”

You looped yours with his.

“You’ll get it.”

Chenle never gave up on you. He kept pushing you to be the best you could be, and you gladly followed his direction. You never quite got as good as he was with the piano, but you’d gotten decent at least. The two of you would hang out every day, spending every waking, free moment together until your mom told him it was time to go home.

You’d never thought about love and what it meant. For you, loving Chenle was as natural as breathing, and as time went on, it only got easier.

You turned fourteen before Chenle. If you had known this was the beginning of your last year with him, you would’ve appreciated it more. You would’ve told him all of the things lingering on your mind—how you loved him, so purely and genuinely.

Just days before your life blew up in your face, you almost told him.

He sat next to you on your bed, arm wrapped around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The soft golden light of the lamp illuminated him gently, and the movie playing in the background edges you closer and closer to sleep.

“Do you ever think about…life?” he asked.

“Hm?” You scrunched your nose, your half-asleep state not registering what he meant.

“Like…what your plans are. What you want to do and who you want to be with.” His thumb brushed your skin soothingly. “We have to figure it out soon, don’t we? We’re almost adults.”

“You’re not tired?” You sat up and rubbed your forehead.

“Nope.”

“Well.” You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. “The only thing I’m certain about when it comes to the future is that you’ll be there. So, it doesn’t matter what else happens.”

He smiled softly, the slightest shade of red tinting his cheeks. “Even if the world ended?”

“Even if the world ended.” You confirmed.

A few months later, the world did end. At least, yours did.

He was gone.

His mom left shortly after him, but she told you what he was doing—how he was going to pursue his music career in South Korea. He was going to be an idol, and he was leaving you behind to do it.

Your world ended, but his got to go on without you.

At twenty-one years old, you’re still not sure where you went wrong. Chenle left, but his memory plagues the very walls you live within. You keep up with him, with his group and all of the things they’re doing. Even though you’re not with him, you watch him grow and grow into a more confident version of the young boy you knew.

Seven years without him should have been impossible, yet here you are: alive, well, and watching any and all Chenle related content. You haven’t heard from him, not once. Assumingly, he’s incredibly busy. Even then, you wonder occasionally if you ever cross his mind, if he ever thinks of the love he left behind.

Ever since, you’ve been sensitive over the summer months. A part of you is missing, and until you see him again, you’re unsure if you’ll ever find it. Has he changed? Is he still the boy you loved?

On days where thoughts of him overwhelms you, you like to walk the trail behind your house. It takes you through a wooded area, and the other end brings you to the end of your street. On your walk back, you see an unfamiliar car outside of Chenle’s family’s home. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you stand there to watch.

The door slides open, and you hear an unfamiliar laugh. Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest. Who the hell would be at Chenle’s house?

When the first person gets out of the car, your heart stops in your chest. You’re about eighty percent sure that’s Lee Jeno, light hair reflecting the bright sunlight above. If that’s Jeno, then—

You feel a sudden urge to run into your house, slam the door, and lock it behind you. Several other people are in that car, and if they’re here…one of them is Chenle. Your Chenle, who isn’t really yours. Not anymore.

Jaemin gets out next. His roots are dark, nearly overshadowing the pink hue on top of his head. He swats at someone behind him, laughing, and as that person comes into view, your heart stops. It shreds itself to pieces.

Jeno notices you first, a slight frown gracing his face before Chenle’s gaze follows his line of sight. When he sees you, you instantly see the recognition on his face.

Seven years is a long time. Hell, even though you’ve seen all of Dream’s content, you’re still shocked to see how different he looks. His face is more defined. He’s grown a bit taller, too.

He sees you. He’s looking at you for the first time in years, and all you want to do is forget all this time of no contact, all the ways the two of you hadn’t reached out to each other. A lump forms in your throat, and before you do something stupid, you let out a shaky breath, turn away from him, and make your way into your house.

You shut the door behind you, your back thudding against it. Glancing over to your right, the grand piano—old and loved—is blurred by your tears, and for the briefest of moments, you swear you see your younger self sitting there, endlessly playing the songs Chenle taught you before he left.

A knock sounds, and each one echoes throughout your house, feeling like a hole-puncher on your heart. You’re barely able to breathe as you prepare yourself to be face-to-face with Chenle for the first time in almost a decade—for the first time since he up and disappeared on you without a word.

“(Y/N)?” His voice. So familiar but so distant, all the same as it was.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

You brace yourself against the solid wood of the piano, doing your best to calm yourself. The last thing you need is to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

A hesitant creak fills your ears, and the tap of his shoes on the hardwood flooring has your eyes clenching shut.

“Why’d you run off like that?” he asks, voice so soft that it’s barely audible.

“I didn’t.”

“You still sound the same,” he says it quietly, as if he’s the only one meant to hear it. He raises his voice so you can hear him. “It’s been a long time.”

You scoff, whipping around to face him. “It’s been a long time? That’s all you have to say to me?” Anger bubbles in your gut, quickly replacing the hurt lingering.

You have to stop yourself from admiring him at a time like this. His oversized T-shirt somehow compliments him in the best ways, his hair is a tinted shade of purple, and when his fingers run through it, you have to look away. Sure, you should’ve expected to see him again at some point, but you never imagined you’d feel the same. It’s a bit different now that you’re older. You’re able to see him in a different light.

His eyes widen and he recoils. “I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say. It’s not like there’s a textbook on how to do this.”

“What are you doing here? Why now?” You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to avoid his eyes.

“We’re here on a schedule.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I told them about you, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh, right.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I suppose that makes it all okay, right? You tell your friends I exist and that’s supposed to change how you up and left me without a word?”

He frowns. “Without a word?”

“Yeah, Chenle. Without a single fucking word.”

“That’s not true.” His tone sharpens to match yours. “I wrote to you. A lot. And if you didn’t want to read them, that’s on you. That doesn’t mean I left without a word. There were a lot of words, actually.”

“Why didn’t I get them?” Your voice drops into a whisper, moving one of your hands to touch your forehead.

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t know your address so I sent them to my mom, and she told me every time she gave one to your mom—”

A jolt of electricity rages up your spine, and you immediately turn away from him and run up the staircase. Your mother’s out of town for the week. If she’s been hiding letters from you, they’d be in her room somewhere—and you’d tear that place apart if it meant you had all those words.

“Where are you—hey!”

You’re already in your mom’s closet when Chenle follows you in.

“You shouldn’t be in here—”

“Says you,” you interrupt him, mindlessly shuffling through anything that looks like it could hold letters. “How many?”

“What?”

“How many did you send, Chenle?”

“Um.” He pauses, shifting on his feet. “I don’t know. A few? I stopped after a while because I didn’t hear anything. Figured you didn’t want anything else.”

“My God,” you mutter, blinking rapidly to fight off the tears. “And you swear your mom gave them to mine?”

“I—yeah, she didn’t have a reason not to.”

“And my mom had a reason not to give them to—shit. When did you send the first one?”

“(Y/N), it was seven years ago.”

“Was it right when you left or afterward?” You haphazardly dig through the closet, searching high and low.

“I left it here. I told my mom about it after a week or so. What the hell is going on?” Chenle runs his fingers through his hair again, gulping. “We really shouldn’t be in here.”

Your heart sinks. There’s nothing in here. You’ll never find Chenle’s letters, and the mystery will always be just that.

“I…I’m so sorry.” You drop your head into your hands. “I’m acting like an idiot right now.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m just confused. This whole time, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me…that’s why I haven’t been back in a while.” Chenle takes a step closer to you, reaching out to touch your arm. “I would never leave you.”

You finally look at him. Really look at him. The worried furrow to his brow, the slight downturn of his lips, concern clouding those beautiful irises of his. Standing in front of you is the reason you are who you are today.

“You just…Okay, I need a while to figure all of this out.” You glance up to the ceiling, closing your eyes and taking a shuddering breath. “Can you go? I don’t really want to see you right now.”

Hurt plays out on his face, but after he blinks a few times, he nods slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Um, I’ll see you later. If it helps any, I probably could’ve tried to call or something.”

“We were kids.” You sigh. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

You say that, but it would have. The entire trajectory of your life may have changed if Chenle was still in it back then. As much as you want to be pissed at your mother for hiding things from you, maybe she was right.

Chenle takes his bottom lip between his teeth, looking you over one more time as he nods. “Right. I…I’ll see you around.”

Before you respond, he’s turning away from you and disappearing down the hall. You feel a lot of things—overwhelmed, confused, sad. But you also almost feel naive for listening to him—for believing that your mother hid things from you. Your brain stops being logical when Chenle’s around, and you know it’s a mistake to bring him back into your life. The hurt has passed, but that doesn’t mean it won’t rear its ugly head if you’re in such close proximity to him.

You go back downstairs to grab your phone, and the first thing you do is dial your mom’s number. She picks up after the first ring.

“Hi, honey! I was about to text you. New York is fascinating! You’d love it—”

“Did Chenle write me letters?”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Where is this coming from?”

“He’s here,” you mutter. “He told me he sent me letters, mom.”

“(Y/N), you have to understand where I was coming from.”

“Where are they?” You slap your hand to your forehead. “Where?”

“He still left, you know. I understand he’s important to you, but he still chose a career over you. And you would’ve thrown everything away for him without a second thought.” Your mom takes a deep breath. “You needed to live your life for you.”

“Where are they?” you repeat. “If you threw them away, I will never forgive you.”

“Of course, I didn’t throw them away. They’re in my closet in a little gold box on the floor. When you read those…don’t get any ideas. He lives far away and he’s even less available for you now than he was before.”

You hang up without saying another word and run back up the stairs. It takes you only a few seconds to find the box she told you about. When you open it, your breath shudders at the stack of letters in there. Some are aged and crinkly, but the ones toward the top are newer. Your hands shake as you grab them, mouth dry as you see the dates listed across the front of the envelope.

You start with the one on the bottom, the oldest, and ever so carefully opening it. Blinking back tears, you take in the painfully familiar handwriting that belonged to your Chenle.

(Y/N)

This is probably the worst way to do this, I know. I’m leaving to follow my dreams, and while I wish I could take you with me, it doesn’t make sense. Your mom would never agree to let you come. Thinking of going through all of this without you scares me more than I care to admit.

I don’t have a phone yet, but as soon as I get one, I’ll send you a letter with the number! It’ll be nice to hear your voice again. I’m writing this early, so I actually spoke with you earlier today, but it’s funny how quickly I miss you.

You’re probably going to be really mad at me, and that’s okay. I deserve it. The reason I didn’t tell you isn’t very simple, but I hope you understand it. Saying goodbye to you would feel so permanent. Goodbye itself is too permanent for my liking, so I’ve never liked them.

If I looked into your eyes and told you I was leaving, I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to go. Or that I’d sneak you with me in my carry-on. I didn’t want to hurt you. You mean so much to me, (Y/N). I don’t ever want to make you upset, and I know you’ll eventually understand why I had to do it this way.

Just know I’ll be thinking about you every day. You’re the reason I’ll have the strength to get through this training period.

Talk to you soon,

Your Chenle

You trace your finger along the bottom of the page. Face wet, you clear your throat as you delicately set it aside to grab the next one. According to the date on the envelope, it’s from a few months after the first one.

(Y/N),

These past few months have been so hectic. I think I almost died a couple times, but here I am. I debuted last week! I’m in a group called NCT, but I debuted in the sub-unit NCT DREAM. It seems surreal, and it happened so much faster than I thought.

I think you’d like the other guys. They’re nice and loud and friendly. Honestly, they seem like they’ve been working together for a little bit of time already, so I’m the newest one here. I heard someone say they’d been training for a while…

Anyway, I said in the last letter that I’d give you my phone number. I realized after I left that you didn’t have one either, so…I’m not sure how that’ll work. And I wasn’t expecting a response to these at all, but if you want to write back, it’d give me something to look forward to after all this hecticness.

But yeah…honestly, I was a bit worried about moving here and being in a group. I’ve been learning a lot of Korean though, and another member named Jisung has been helping me a lot. He’s a few months younger than me, can you believe it? Everyone treats him like a baby, but I think he likes it. I told them about you, and they all kept teasing me.

Maybe they just don’t understand. You’re my favorite person, of course, I’m going to talk about you and tell them stories about all the fun we had.

Sorry this one is a bit long. I hope you’re not too mad at me. And I also hope that you’re keeping up on me. I think you’d like Chewing Gum…

I’ll talk to you soon! I’ll write my number down at the bottom of the page.

Your Chenle

You have to take a break. You rest your head back against the wall, closing your eyes and imagining how hurt poor, young Chenle must have been when you never responded to his heartfelt letters. You don’t know much about Jisung—besides the obvious, public information—but you’re happy someone was good and helpful to him.

After that, you wonder what it would’ve been like to be there for him through all of that. Based on what you know about his group, he’s been through a lot of ups and downs over the years. You wonder if he wrote about some of the harder things, too.

You read another one that’s about their promotions, how he’s getting closer with the other members. Then one about how he performed with twenty-two others. The next one you grab is dated from 2019. You open it.

(Y/N),

I didn’t think this year would be as hard as it has been. We all expected it, you know? We knew it was going to happen, but it doesn’t change how scary it’s been. I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve written. Maybe you just throw them away at this point, which is fine, but I wish I could hear from you. Especially at a time like this.

Dream has a graduation system, and Mark’s been gone for months now. Things have been continuing ‘as normal,’ but without Mark, we don’t really feel complete as a group. We see him as often as we can, but performing without him is…it feels wrong.

I wish I could see you. You’d make everything better in an instant, just like you always did. Sometimes, I feel terrible because the others get sad about the situation, and I can’t figure out any good words to say. You’ve always been so good at comforting others, I wish you were here to help me.

It’s been two years since I’ve seen you. That’s so weird to think about, because I swear I still hear your voice in my head. Your encouraging words, how you always believed in me. I need that now more than ever.

I’m not sure if you know much about Mark, but he’s our rock. We kind of fail to function without him. But in the spirit of missing both you and Mark, I’ll tell you a little story about what happened when I asked Mark for advice.

I asked him about you—about what I could possibly do to make all of this up to you since you deserve it. And not hearing back from you makes me think you might hate me.

Anyway, his question in response was interesting. He wanted to know what you were to me. How I felt about you. At first, I thought he was crazy. I mean, it was obvious—you’re my best friend. I can’t live and function without my best friend.

He asked if that was all.

I vividly remember scrunching up my face and pushing his shoulder. Not too hard, by the way.

But the more he told me about what it felt like to be in love, everything clicked into place. I’m in love with you, (Y/N). I have been for so long that it started feeling like second nature instead of a conscious idea.

I guess it doesn’t matter now. Maybe I’ve failed you too much for it to mean anything to you.

Loss sucks. Losing Mark in Dream has sucked, losing you before I even realized the extent of my feelings sucked, but at the end of the day, I have to keep pushing forward. I’m sorry for any hurt I may have caused, because this situation with Mark also made me realize how much it must have hurt you for me to up and disappear the way I did.

I’m so, so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.

Your Chenle

You wipe angrily at your tears, unsure if you should be mad at yourself or at your mother. She stole this from you. Chenle figured out his feelings for you long before you figured out yours for him, but it feels like a new revelation—to know he felt the same way, even after years without you.

You remember this time where Mark had ‘graduated’ from NCT Dream. And because you knew Chenle well, you could tell he was struggling, even when he put on a happy facade. He needed you, and you weren’t there for him.

No matter how much it hurts, you can’t stop. You grab the next one. His writing became less frequent after that. He wrote to tell you when NCT Dream became a fixed unit, and how happy he was to be reunited as seven. The next was from their first full album. You find the last one, surprised to find how recent it was. There was a large gap between this one and the one before it.

The letter was addressed from a few months ago. The one before had been from two years ago.

(Y/N),

I’m sorry it’s been a while. Honestly, we’ve been so busy, I’ve barely even had the time to sleep. I got news today that we’ll be going to China for an event. I’m coming home, but I figured I should tell you in advance. Give you some time in case you really don’t want to see me.

I still think of you every day. All I want is to hear your voice again, but I won’t ask you to do something you don’t want to. If you have no intention of seeing me, that’s fine. I know I messed this up, but I figured it wouldn’t be right to give up when I’ll be so close.

We’ll be arriving in the next few weeks. I wish I could give you more detailed information, but I won’t even know it until the day of.

If this is it for us, thank you for the time I had with you. I love you, (Y/N). No matter what, that’ll be true, but this will be the last thing I send. I hope you understand.

Love,

Your Chenle

At this point, you’re bawling your eyes out. You aggressively wipe away the tears, cursing yourself for not knowing about these damn letters. All the pain you could’ve helped him through, all the hurt it could’ve saved you from.

You sniffle, grab your phone, and dial the number at the bottom of the second letter. It’s been years since he gave it to you, so there’s a good chance it’s different now. But you don’t exactly feel like going over to his house while his friends are there and making a fool of yourself.

“Hello?” That’s definitely his voice.

“Chenle,” you breathe out, closing your eyes. “My Chenle.”

“Yeah.” His tone softens. “Yeah, yours. Always yours.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sigh. “I found them. All of them. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “It’s not like you even knew about them. Give me one second, I’m gonna go upstairs. Jeno and Jaemin are still here.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and you hear him say something to the other guys. They reply, and then you hear the tell-tale sound of the stairs creaking beneath Chenle’s feet. Once he makes it up to his bedroom, he closes the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “That’s a lot to read all at once.”

“I don’t know. I’m so mad, Lele. How could she hide those from me? If I’d known you didn’t just leave me, it would’ve hurt so much less. And seeing all this pain you went through all by yourself…I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he tells you. “We know the truth now. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” you whisper, burying your head in your palm. “Not even if I tried.”

There’s a brief silence, only filled with the sounds of you sniffling and Chenle breathing. He’s right next door, but the idea of being with him is too real. You need time to process all of this, and bringing him around while you do isn’t the best idea.

“You said you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects you. “Present tense. I never stopped.”

“I kept up with you.” You play with the seam of your jeans. “With everything you did with Dream and all the accomplishments you’ve had so far. I’ve been so proud of you with no way to say it.”

“I almost stopped writing letters. Mark convinced me not to give up, but after seven years I was pretty sure you wouldn’t change your mind,” he admits.

“If I’d been receiving them I would’ve called you the second you gave me your number.”

“That’s what I’d been hoping for.” Chenle takes a deep breath. “We have to go soon for a schedule, but can I come see you later?”

Later wasn’t really definitive. The thought of him in your house and in your space is scary, terrifying even, but this is Chenle. The boy who used to play piano with you and sing to his heart’s content. From what you’ve seen, this version of him doesn’t seem too different than that boy.

“Please,” you whisper. “Will you be hungry? I can make you something.”

“It’ll be late. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Not too long after your conversation, you hear the three boys clamber into the van. You try to busy yourself throughout the day, cleaning in order to distract yourself. Eventually, you sit down at the piano and play whatever song comes to memory. One of the ones Chenle taught you back when he was here.

You taught yourself a few of Dream’s songs as well, like Rainbow, My Youth, Puzzle Piece, Teddy Bear, and most recently, Like We Just Met from their newest album. You play the last one, the darkness cascading around you as the sunset fades away from view. It’s only you and the starlight now, a gentle melody flooding through the air around you.

The door creaks open, and Chenle walks through when you’re almost done with the song. You stop playing, standing up to greet him. There’s an odd moment where you stand there staring at each other, admiring the way the starlight reflects off his skin. His eyebrows are furrowed, like he’s trying to decide what to do next.

You don’t hesitate anymore. Moving forward, you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his chest. He immediately reciprocates, shaky breath passing by his lips as he holds you closely. His heart thrashes, the sound more than similar to yours.

“I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you, too,” you reply easily, tightening your grip on him.

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, wetness gathered beneath them. With shaky hands, you reach up to wipe it away. His gaze travels over your face.

“You love me.”

He nods hesitantly, palms pressing into the small of your back. “Always have.”

“I’ve always loved you, too.” Before you talk yourself out of it, you’re on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It starts gently, your mouth barely brushing his before his breath catches in his throat. Then it’s real—he pulls you flush against him, lips fitting with yours like he’s made for you.

You move your hands from his cheeks to his hair, leaning into him. His fingers latch onto the fabric of your shirt. Next thing you know, he’s walking you backward until he’s pressing your back into a wall.

“We have so much to talk about.” He rests his forehead on yours. “So much air to clear up.”

“Yeah.” You nod, but your stare is focused directly on his lips.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” he warns you. “I don’t get to come here often, so unless you were to come to Korea, we’d pretty much never see each other. My schedules are so packed, I’m practicing all day and half-dead by the time I get home. I can be a real asshole when I’m tired, and sometimes I might take jokes too far. This life is not easy, (Y/N). I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What am I even doing here?” you ask. “I can come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to give up everything you have for me.” He shakes his head, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You’re not asking. Chenle, I spent years thinking you were gone without a word. All I want is to be with you as much as possible.”

“At least think about it for a little bit first, okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” He gulps. “That goes for a lot of things.”

“I’ve had seven years to think about all the things I wanted from you.”

“You can’t say things like that,” he mutters.

You’re painfully aware of what it feels like to have him pressed against you, warm in all the right ways and, despite being so thin, he’s firm to the touch. The ache you feel to be closer to him is overwhelming.

“I spent years thinking everything was a lie,” you tell him. “That I couldn’t possibly have mattered to you if you could just disappear without a word.”

His fingers play with yours, discomfort at the idea plastered across his face. “Never. I never would’ve done that. You’ve always meant so much to me.”

“I’m just happy I finally get to tell you all of the things I wanted to tell you after I found out you were gone.” You give him the smallest smile, and he reaches up to trace along your bottom lip.

The simple touch sends sparks flying down your spine, and you’re sure you’ll crumble to dust right at his feet from the forceful impact of it. An odd tug occurs in your chest, one that has you questioning if you’ve ever experienced it before. It pulls you toward him, and despite being flush, your mind dips to dangerous places that could get you so, so much closer.

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but this is Chenle. Your Chenle. And if you’re having these feelings for him, there’s no need to hide it.

“I…” you trail off, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. “Do you feel it, too? Everything is…different now.”

“Under other circumstances, I’d say different is bad,” he whispers. “But there’s nothing bad about the way you’re looking at me.” 

His arms wrap around your waist tightly, and simultaneously, you both lean in until your lips are locked in a gentle battle. The warmth of his touch finds your hip, where your sweater rose up enough to reveal your skin. You let out a shaky sigh, and he squeezes you.

“Come upstairs with me?” Your invite is airy, suggestive, and he analyzes you while his gaze darkens.

“If that’s what you want,” he says.

“Is it what you want?” You tilt your head at him, voice quiet since he’s so close.

He pauses and wets his lips. “Of course, it is. I just don’t want you to regret anything. Losing you once was enough, and I refuse to go through that again.”

 Instead of answering, you intertwine your fingers with his and lead him toward the stairs, through the blackness of the night casting through the windows. You take one step at a time, your heart thundering and blood pulsing through your veins. One look at your shoulder, and for a second, you almost swear you see the younger versions of you and Chenle sitting by the piano. Caught up in the music. In each other.

He follows you, entranced by the way you move and how you’re so willingly guiding him. Everything happens in slow motion for you. Too fast but too slow at the same time, somehow the moment you’ve waited for your entire life while simultaneously the thing that’s scared you the most.

Your Chenle.

He said it himself. Why is it so foreign to think about? That maybe, even after all this time, he loves you even an ounce of how much you love him? Endless devotion with no contact. But he did the same—he waited and waited for your response much like you waited for any contact from him. You were both physically and metaphorically in the dark.

The door to your bedroom creaks as you push it open, embarrassed by how little it’s changed since the last time he was in it. The walls are still the same color, faded and paint peeling in some of the corners. Your bed has been swapped from twin-sized to a queen, but everything else is virtually untouched.

No more words are spoken.

They’re not needed.

You don’t need anything. Not when you have him.

He presses your body into the mattress, climbing over you gently. His touch is tender, sweet, not too much pressure. You’re halfway certain you’ll wake up from this dream any time now, and you’ll once again be without him. Without his touch and his love and his truths.

Kissing him is like touching the sun. It burns, nearly enough to make you combust into flames, but magnetic. He is your sun, and you are the Earth. You revolve around him.

Normally, anyone else taking your clothes off would make you nervous, but you know you’re in good hands with Chenle. Your shirt is tossed aside first, his mouth instantly dipping down to explore every inch of exposed skin. His tongue drags along the swells of your breasts, over your collarbones. He nips, teeth leaving shallow indents on your soft flesh.

Your whines are soft, delicately slicing into the silence of the air. The first time he hears you, he freezes, his eyelashes fluttering against your neck as he takes in the way you sound. Quiet cries of ‘more’ escape you while your hands explore beneath his T-shirt.

Never before in your life have you wanted someone with such despracy. Your body aches for him, and the tug in your chest that pulled you closer to him has finally revealed how. As his fingers pop the button on your jeans, you lift your hips.

He pulls his lips away from your chest, gaze honing in on yours. There’s something swirling around in his irises, and you’re sure yours reflect the same. He doesn’t have to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. Not verbally. You nod, guiding his mouth back to yours.

The heat of his touch dips dangerously low, past your jeans and the hem of your panties. You gasp, appreciative of how he catches the sound. You’ve been touched before, but nobody has ever compared to the way he feels. When you’ve met your soulmate, nothing could be better.

He rubs slow circles on your clit, eyes hazy from knowing he’s the one who made you feel this way. Normally, you’d need more. A simple touch wouldn’t be enough to have you squirming in someone’s grasp, but there’s so much more behind his movements than lust.

And he takes it a step further, sliding his long fingers inside you. His gaze focuses on you the whole time, watching your face for any sign of discomfort as he thrusts his hand. He nudges your sensitive bud with the heel of his palm every time he’s knuckle deep.

Your stomach feels elastic, as if you’re stretching a rubber band, and it’s taking everything you have not to let it snap back. It’s too good. Too intoxicating. Too early for it to be over. He swallows your short moans, picking up his pace. You lean up, yearning for his kiss. He doesn’t need to ask, and the second your lips meet, you tighten around him, and it’s over.

Warmth spreads all over your body, your insides boil, and butterflies swarm deep in your stomach. Your eyes shut, and your head falls back against your pillow. He kisses all over your face, humming quietly.

He pulls away from you to help you remove the last of your clothing, the fabric of your panties sticking uncomfortably until he tugs them down your legs.

You reach down to feel him through his pants, unable to stop the shuddering breath that escapes you when you touch his length. He grinds into your hand, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

Finally, nothing separates the two of you anymore. The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, the initial pressure already making you crave more. You need all of him, so you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his back to tell him to push in further. Your whole body tingles with pleasure, the type enough to make your toes curl, and your chest heaves as you adjust to his size.

His forehead drops against your shoulder, grasping one of your hands in his own to squeeze. He takes you slowly, his throbbing length stretching you to your limits and rubbing your walls perfectly. You were made for him, you’re certain. He fits so well, so completely, there’s no other explanation for it.

He curses under his breath, eyes threatening to flutter shut from the pleasure. Sweat clings to you tighter than Chenle does, but you relish in the way you react to him. His eyebrows pinch as he looks at you for any sign of discomfort.

His name slips past your lips. In that moment, you truly become his, and he becomes yours. Bodies meld together, each one of his thrusts sliding so pleasantly inside you. There’s no sound from either of you besides the brief exchange of names, moans from both of you, and the slick of your wetness.

He kisses you, thrusting at a steady, mind-crumbling pace. His chest brushes against yours, breathing uneven as he clenches the bedsheets next to your head. You quickly realize you could do this forever. The feeling of him so deep inside you would never subside, and you find yourself never wanting to separate from him.

Starlight gleams off his skin, the blue shine accenting the sheen of sweat clinging to him. His muscles contract as he holds himself over you, and his hair hangs over his eyes. All you can do in your current state is push it back, basking in the softness of it.

Picking up his pace, he slides one of his hands down your body, his thumb connecting with your clit. You’re a moaning mess, clinging to him as the familiar sensation returns to the pit of your stomach.

His trembling breath fans across your ear as he leans close. You’re unsure of how to handle all of the pleasure, your body spasming. He presses a kiss on that sensitive spot.

“I love you,” he whispers.

And that’s all it takes to have you shatter around him, your back arching as you grip onto his shoulders for dear life. He moans loudly, hips stuttering as your walls clench. When he spills inside you, it’s as if the last piece of you two finally comes together.

In bliss, you tell him you love him, too, over and over.

He kisses you passionately once more before gently pulling out of you, reassuring you that he’ll be right back so you let go. Grabbing a towel from your bathroom, he cleans you up, gaze drinking up every part of you. Once he’s finished, he crawls next to you in bed, pulling you to his chest.

You’re still certain you’ll wake up, and all of this will have been a dream, but until then, you’re going to enjoy it. Burying yourself in the warmth of his chest, you hum in content when he pulls the blankets over the two of you.

Finally, he’s here.

He’s no longer a memory trapped within the piano keys in your foyer.

He’s your Chenle, never to leave your side again.

[niki-phoria]

LIFE ALWAYS GOES ON AND ON / BUT I'LL LIVE WITH YOU FOREVER

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader genre: fluff word count: 410

notes: loosely inspired by huening kai wants to start a band, questionable guitar knowledge, not proofread, pls forgive any mistakes !! title from wave to earth - daisy.

“put your fingers here,” HUENING KAI wraps his arms around your waist, carefully readjusting your fingers along the guitar strands. his touch is gentle but confident as he guides your hand along the guitar’s neck. carefully, he pushes down until you hold the ribbed strings against the wooden back with enough pressure to create the correct sound. “and make sure you’re pressing down hard.”

you hum, increasing the pressure until your fingers burn from the feeling. “like this?”

“yeah, just like that.” kai nods excitedly. he hovers over your shoulder, carefully watching as you experimentally strum the guitar to hear how the note sounds when combined with the others he had already taught you. “you’re doing great.”

you smile as you turn back to face kai. “i had a great teacher.” 

his face flushes slightly when he laughs; a soft blush spreads across kai’s cheeks and ears. he playfully swats at your shoulder, holding a hand up to cover his bright smile. “this was all your hard work.” 

you’re not sure how much you believe that, but you know kai will never let you disagree. so, you simply smile in return, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against his cheek in thanks. he smiles as he settles his head against your shoulder. shivers run down your spine when he leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss against the skin of your neck. stray strands of his curled hair tickle against your jaw. gently, he places his hands over your own, guiding you through the motions of how to play once again. 

you repeat the same, simple motions over and over again until switching between the various notes almost becomes second nature. sunlight filters into your bedroom through your opened blinds, casting a golden glow across the world. kai seems to shine brightly in the light of the sunset. hues of pink and purple paint the sky above. 

your fingers sting from the deep indents of the guitar strands pressing into them and you can already feel a few blisters beginning to form against the side of your thumb. but when kai’s gaze meets your own his smile brightens up your bedroom, and you know the pain will be worth it. pressing your fingers into the guitar strings once again, you continue the slow, familiar pattern of strumming the notes; the silence of your bedroom fills with the quiet noise of your playing and kai’s gentle singing along to the melody. 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @besciitos @nxzz-skz

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my txt materlist <33

[speakofthedebbie]

you (read: i) asked so you shall recieve: radioapple fic recs august 2024 update!!

the following are the ones from the last post w/some minor changes (think: misspellings and even more osas praising) (sorry for the re-tags!!):

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 4 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic. has the same vibe as bedtime rituals, but it is NOT a sequel

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

if youre even half the radioapple fanatic i am and havent read this, literally what are you doing?? i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, with some daily compliments sprinkled along the way, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i foam at the mouth every friday

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. lilith is particularly an asshole even tho we havent seen her yet (or maybe we have. idr, mightve chatted with al) also emily is there (fallen) and has a lil smth to do with als and liliths deal. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6-7 (rosies words) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s(30s?) au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and mimzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent off for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

new recs below!! ↓↓

Alastor and Lucifer do whatever the Hell this is (series) by Vagabond_Sloth (personally asked, no Tumblr, but they might make one 👀)

i know this is radioapple fic rec post but... *cough* Husk and Angel do a Romance for some soft huskerdust *cough* anyway- basically, a perplexing flower arrangement leads to a blossoming something between the resident radio demon and king of hell. seriously, its some good shit, and the author is really nice!

A Compliment A Day by @decembercamiecherries

spinning this around in my head at all times

basically, a classic "charlie makes al and luci compliment each other as a bonding excessive" but it does not disappoint (check out her other three radioapple fics too)

a lovely night (lalaland is that you??) and pancakes, small talk by @mirotic_chess (X Twitter account)

in a lovely night they do a lil dancey dancey and in pancakes, small talk luci makes some pancakes!!

Sin and Sentiment and Time On My Hands by demon_fawn (supposed Tumblr leads to a dead end)

oh my god future debs here and i am so fucking tired of doing these descriptions but. um. the plot for sin and sentiment def seems very interesting and time on my hands is an incomplete (but good!) attempt at radioapple week. hmm not sure if they still post bc the most recent update was july 12th

honestly just every radioapple fic by @otoshigo (i think ive read all but Forbidden Fruit of the Poisonous Tree)

if you look underneath the little island that is radioapple, on god otoshigo is one of the creators holding it up. all 19 (yes, 19. we eatin good tonight [excluding forbidden fruit]) of their radioapple fics are fantastic, buuut if i had to recommend anything specific: A Guide to the Care and Maintenance of the King of Hell (fuck count furfur!) and The Devil's Trip to the Big Apple

not to continue the trend, but basically anything by @thief-of-eggs (even the singular huskerdust) but personal recommendations: Trust and Hair Pets and Let Me Be Your Shelter (sickfics 🔛🔝)

idk if youll catch me doing the descriptions for these anymore shit was exhausting

tagging time!!!! (i want to end it all)