#first off rest in peace your book 11

[tanjaded]

One of the best youjo senki comics I've seen the vibes are immaculate

can you guess what tragedy has befallen my copy of youjo senki book 11

[after-witch]

Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Bookworm [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito doesn't like that you have an interest in a book character.

Word count: 1787

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of other people being tortured/killed, supreme self indulgence of the highest order

“Who is the smiling man?” 

The silence that had existed between the two of you was broken by a question that made you flinch. Well, why not? Mahito has been quiet all morning--and afternoon, actually, which perhaps should have startled you more than his sudden words. 

But you were too happy to enjoy some quiet (you would never say “peace and quiet,” not down here, not with him); all too happy to curl up in your haphazard nest on the floor with some books that took  you away from this place. Away from Mahito.

Who was, of course, still here. Lounging in his hammock with a pile of books sagging down the netting. 

You couldn’t tell exactly what he was reading from down here--you probably needed new glasses, a subject you were certainly not going to bring up with Mahito, who might reiterate his offer to “fix” your eyes. It looked like a bundle of pages stapled together. Maybe he went to the library and printed off obscure articles to read again. 

“Hey,” he calls down, and the first hint of worry begins to prickle on your arms at his uncharacteristically serious tone, “Answer me.”

Your mind stutters, tries to put one word in front of the other, and make sense of it all. 

The smiling man? The smiling man, the… ah. From Small Spaces. The otherworldly supernatural entity who lives in a world behind mist and has a penchant for making deals with people for their greatest wishes. 

It’s not your fault that you haven’t thought about him in ages. It’s not like you had copies of your books with you, and the fun you had with imagining him in an endless number of scenarios had fallen by the wayside considering your circumstances. 

It’s hard to daydream about worlds behind mist and cornfield servants when you’re watching people be turned into grotesque experiments that had them, sometimes quite literally and loudly, begging for death.

Mahito is looking down at you now, staring expectantly. 

“He’s a character,” you say, fidgeting on the floor. “From a book series.” You look down, flip a page in your book, although you haven’t finished reading the last one, and ask, casually as you can muster: “Why?”

Mahito, up above, flips a page. You can hear the wobble in the paper--not a bound book, that’s for certain. And there’s some low, primal sense that shivers through you which says, plainly, that he’s actually reading whatever’s in front of him. 

“You write about him a lot.”

Oh.

Low, slimy dread filters into your stomach. Thick and gelatinous, resting at the bottom of your belly like an unwanted slug. 

“I… don’t know what you mean,” you say, voice only half-there, because while you are apparently stupid enough to lie to Mahito’s face, you’re not stupid enough to think he’ll believe you. 

You are just stupid enough to think that he won’t know exactly how deep your interest in this particular character goes; before Mahito took you, you thought about him all the time. You’d take walks and daydream about him, write story after story; you’d even commissioned fanart of him, because it wasn’t like there was a plethora of fanart for a character from a middle grade horror book. 

Mahito huffs out a sigh. Quick and short, it sends a shock right down your stomach. 

“Get you a man,” he starts, and confusion buzzes through your brain until he continues. “Who is an otherworldly entity that is so petty when an 11 year old beats him that he traps her in another world, leaving her to a fate worse than death, and laughs until he cries about it.”

You wrote that. There’s a vague memory of when you posted it--after you’d taken a walk, you think, and reread your favorite parts in the books for a few hours. But the way Mahito says it makes it sound--you don’t know how to explain it. Like saying the words out loud almost pains him; they come out clipped and bitter. 

Bitter? But why?

He doesn’t stop there. He reads something else, voice getting higher, almost mocking the way you talk. And that bitterness is still there, a thread continuing through every syllable.

“What if we kissed in the corn maze before you turned me into a scarecrow servant whose soul slowly gets dried out and useless and in the end you feed it, crunchy and tasteless, to your hellhound.” 

He takes a breath. Then--

“One particular aspect of the Smiling Man’s cruelty that I truly adore is that he can make people feel understood. He can make them feel like he cares, like he’s lending a listening ear, like he’s wanting to help them out and make them feel nice.”

Another breath--and he continues, again and again, reading your posts. Quoting your stories. Listing off the titles, the imagine posts, everything you’ve said about him.

All the while, bitter and mocking, his voice raising now and then in an imitation of your own. 

Then he gets to the last page of his clearly self-created tome and stares down at you, waiting, expectant. 

And you… you actually glare up at him. 

Because you're scared, sure. You’re always scared in some way, when you’re with Mahito. But there’s something else too, something that digs its way out of the rot in your gut and sticks up a petulant middle finger.

How dare he do this. How dare he take something that was yours and make it his; put it in his mouth and sneer over it. 

“Have you been--” Your mouth sticks together, refusing to let you accuse him of what you know he’s been doing. Stalking your online profiles. “That’s… that’s private,” is what you finally mutter, cheeks feeling hot and that half-buried petulance pushing you forward. “It’s not any of your business.” 

“Private?” He mutters the word softly, cradling the sound.

And then--

Mahito doesn’t often move fast around you. He prefers to be slow, languid. Calculating. You think it’s because that terrifies you more.

But now, in a moment, he goes from being slouched in his hammock to leaping down and crouching right in your face--there’s sudden pain in your head, and you realize he’s grabbed your hair and yanked it back.

That metaphorical middle finger sinks back down into the slimy gut sludge.

“Not from me,” he says, low, a warning. “Not for you.”

This is all it takes for tears to prick inside your eyes.

Mahito’s lips quirk up. Just a little. Just enough for you to notice.

“You’re going to cry already? I didn’t even do anything.”

Your eyes dart up and back, towards where he’s currently gripping your hair hard enough for it to sting.

He sighs through his nose. “This isn’t anything. You know that. Don’t be childish now.”

But--he lets go of your hair, and doesn’t grab for you when you scoot backwards on your blanket nest. Instead, he plops himself down, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his elbow.

You don’t speak. You don’t want to, and you don’t know what to say. Sometimes it’s better to be quiet around Mahito, so he doesn’t get ideas. Although he comes up with them on his own just fine, even if you try to stay silent.

It’s Mahito who breaks the silence.

“Why do you like him so much?”

How silly, to feel embarrassed right now. With the creature in front of you, and what he can do. But that’s what makes your cheeks burn: embarrassment. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble, because while you are stupid in so many ways, you’re still smart enough to know he wants an answer. “I guess I just like antagonist characters sometimes.” Well, most of the time. But it’s better to keep that from Mahito, if you can.

Mahito’s lips quirk here and there while he thinks. Then he looks at you with something like genuine confusion.

“You say that you like how awful he is. The awful things he does. So…” He tilts his head a little. “You should like me. Right?”

Your fingers pick at the loose threads of your clothes. Your eyes don’t meet his entirely--they flick up and down, from your legs to his face. 

“It’s not the same thing,” is what you come up with. But how to explain that to a curse?

Mahito frowns. 

“I don’t understand.” No bitterness, no pouting. A simple statement of fact.

“He’s not real.” You swallow against the minefield that all of this is making you step through, hoping you’ll avoid them. “But you are. That makes it different.” 

Mahito leans forward, grabbing your wrists, pulling you closer to him with a yanking, childish gesture.

“So you should like me more,” he says, a slight pout in his tone. “Because I can really do those things.” His eyebrows raise, and you swear you can hear a buzzing light bulb go off. “I could turn someone into a scarecrow for you.” He smiles, sudden, excited. “Do you want me to find some school children to torment?”

“No!” Your voice cracks. There are brief images in your mind--the people he’s tortured and killed, experimented with, before you were here and while you’re here and probably after you’re dead and gone--and you shake them away. 

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow. He groans and rolls his eyes backwards until they are entirely white, not in mockery or an attempt to scare you, but in irritation. Fingers squeeze your wrists briefly and let go, and you stay quiet, trying to fight your urge to cry, until Mahito slowly rolls his eyes back to stare at you.

His gaze flicks over you, until he catches your eyes with his. 

“You won’t write about him anymore.”

You don’t take a moment to answer this time.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t read those books anymore.”

“I won’t,” you stay. “I haven’t. I--don’t even have copies anymore.”

Mahito smiles, a little. Maybe it’s a good thing you never asked him to find you a copy, a thought which had been a brief temptation a while back.

And then he leans in closer again, until his nose touches yours.

“You won’t think about him anymore,” he says, quiet, solemn. Not an order but a matter of fact. 

You don’t answer. You swallow against a bitter taste in  your throat; you swear, sometimes, that the sludge in your gut is real and tries to make its way out sometimes.

Mahito presses his nose against yours until it starts to hurt.

“You won’t,” he says again, this time more to himself. “I’ll make sure of it.”

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

"Beach days"

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x fem!reader

Summary: you and luke have grown up and have moved to the sea and started a small family together. And you spend a day at the beach.

Contains: Kisses, fluff, babies, and more fluff!

Word Count: 790

A/N: um so this is my first ever (idk even know what to call this) but i hope you like it!! its like 11:30pm when im writing this - so if there are any mistakes its cause im sleep deprived. The baby is a girl and takes after luke in looks. Also i don't know too much abt the percy jackson series so this might not be really accurate :) btw the baby's name is sunny.

You watch as Luke meanders around the kitchen, a baby sleeping soundly on his shoulder. A soft smile spreads on your face and a surge of love for the boy making pancakes across from you hits you in the chest.

"What?" he asks when he notices you staring.

"Nothing," you say, running your finger over the bench. "Just wondering what we're going to do today."

Luke smiles at you, his black curls falling lightly over his face. "i was thinking we could down to the beach and have a day with this little one," he says kissing your little girl on the head. He turns his back to you and continues to fuss over the pancakes he forgot to flip over "Ah damn."

You smile and slip off the stool you're sitting on and walk around the counter wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing in his scent. It always calms you - his scent - it brings a certain feeling of peace you've always craved.

"Mmm you're most definitely burning those pancakes," you tease, placing a small kiss on his shoulder before slipping away to get changed.

"Hey, not so fast!" Luke grins when you try to escape. "Y/N you are not leaving this kitchen without giving me a kiss." A giggle escapes your lips before you raise up onto your toes and press a light kiss onto his mouth.

"Will that satisfy your needs?" you ask. Luke's eyes burn with desire, "Definitely not, but I'll allow this to pass, just this once." You smile innocently up at him and gently take the baby from his shoulder.

"Hi my baby, hi Sunny baby," you say to the small child in your arms. "Let's get changed, hey? We're going to the beach today!" You gently press a kiss onto her forehead and sway out of the room blabbering softly to your baby.

Luke watches you leave the room with a lovesick expression on his face. He never would have thought the girl he met one day on the beach, reading a book, would be the love of his life, or that she would be holding their child, chatting to her about how much fun they're going to have at the beach today.

He turns back around to focus on the now burnt pancakes. He sighs, turning off the stove and placing the burnt pancake in the trash and moving the non-burnt ones into a container and places them in a bag to take to the beach, before slipping upstairs to change himself.

Luke walks into the room and falters slightly when he sees you. You're sitting on your bed in a blue and white swimsuit cooing over your baby girl in matching swimwear. "Aww doesn't Sunny look adorable?" you laugh when you notice Luke standing in the doorway.

"She's beautiful," Luke says, you're expecting him to be looking at the baby but instead he's looking directly at you. "So very, very beautiful." A blush creeps up onto your cheeks and you stand up putting the baby on your hip and walk over to Luke placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"You're the best," you smile and start dancing around the room with the baby, laughing. Luke grins and changes into his swimwear before he joins you two dancing around smiling like a carefree kid. You love when he's like this just... him.

Sunny is sleeping in her carrier and you and Luke are sitting at the water's edge. Your head is resting on his shoulder and he is running his fingers absent-mindedly over your leg leaving tingles along where he's touched.

"I love you," he says suddenly standing up and helping you up too. You look up at him and feel a surge of love and adoration for the boy standing in front of you.

"I love you too," you say and press a kiss onto his lips. Luke wraps his hands around your waist and starts to sway with you dancing slightly. You rest your head on his shirtless chest, closing your eyes and breathing in this moment.

Luke rests his chin on your head and whispers. "I love you so much Y/N. You're a star in my darkness, my true light, my love, my life, my everything."

Tears well up in your eyes. As you look up to Luke. He has tears in his own eyes and is staring at you with a look of reverence. "You are my everything," you say back to him cupping his cheek with your hand and placing a kiss to his mouth. Savouring this little moment between the two of you, Luke kisses you back, fervently, pulling back only to pull you into a tight hug.

Sunny's disgruntled cries from the carrier break your small bubble of peace, and you pull away from Luke to pick her up. The small baby sitting on your hip as you walk back over to a now grinning Luke. "Hi Sunny baby," he says, taking the baby from you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

"My girls ready for a swim?" he says, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against his side. Sunny babbles happily in his arms and Luke places the softest kiss on her cheek before he gently places her into the shallow water letting her splash.

Moments like these make you the happiest. Where you both are grinning like idiots and just being with each other. Just being Luke and Y/N.

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 11

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; grief, mention of death, smut.

notes; Enjoy this chapter ;))

here is the link for part 10 or part 12

---

The walk back from the grove was slow, each step heavy with the lingering weight of your grief. The snow continued to fall gently around you, muffling the sounds of the world and casting a soft, white blanket over the city. By the time you reached the shop, the sun had set, leaving the streets of Velaris bathed in the soft glow of lanterns.

As you stood in front of the door to your apartment, you hesitated, your hand resting on the cold, wooden handle. The memories of Alex, of the life you had shared with him in this space, flooded your mind, and for a moment, you considered turning back, retreating to the safety of the past.

But something inside you shifted—a small, but powerful determination that had been sparked during your time at the grave. You knew Alex wouldn’t want you to remain trapped in the past, drowning in sorrow. He would want you to move forward, to live, to find a way to heal.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The apartment was quiet, almost eerily so. The stillness of the space pressed in on you, amplifying the emptiness that had settled there since Alex’s death. The air was thick with the scent of dust and old memories, a lingering reminder of everything that had been lost.

But as you stood in the doorway, taking in the state of the apartment, something else began to stir within you—a resolve to reclaim this space, to cleanse it of the pain and grief that had taken root here. You had lost so much, but this was still your home, and it was time to make it a place of peace once more.

You pulled off your coat and hung it by the door, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you began to move through the apartment, your steps purposeful and deliberate. The first thing you did was open every window, letting the cold, crisp air flood the rooms, chasing away the stale scent of grief. The fresh air was a shock to your system, invigorating, as if it were cleansing not just the space but your soul as well.

You started with the living room, your hands moving with a determined energy as you cleared away the clutter that had accumulated over the past weeks. Every item you touched brought with it a memory—a book Alex had been reading, a blanket he had curled up under, the small toys and trinkets he had collected. Each one was a reminder of the life that had once filled this space, but instead of letting the memories drag you down, you carefully sorted through them, deciding which to keep and which to let go.

The things you chose to keep, you set aside gently, reverently, knowing they would be cherished keepsakes of the boy who had meant so much to you. The rest, you carefully packed away, not out of a desire to forget, but out of a need to move forward, to create a new chapter in your life.

Next, you moved to the kitchen, scrubbing down every surface, every corner, until the space gleamed with a cleanliness that felt like a fresh start. You found yourself humming softly as you worked, a melody that Alex had once loved, and though it brought tears to your eyes, it also brought a sense of comfort, as if he were still with you in some small way.

The bedroom was the hardest. Alex’s bed, still unmade from the last time you had slept in it, stood as a painful reminder of his absence. You stood there for a long time, staring at the small, rumpled sheets, your heart aching with the loss. But then, with a deep breath, you gently stripped the bed, folding the blankets and tucking them away with the other keepsakes.

You remade the bed with fresh sheets, smoothing the fabric with careful hands, and as you did, you whispered a quiet goodbye, feeling a sense of closure begin to settle over you. It wasn’t the end of your grief—far from it—but it was a step, a small, but significant step toward healing.

As you continued to clean, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift, the act of reclaiming your space becoming a cathartic release. The apartment, once filled with the echoes of sorrow, began to feel lighter, more like a home again. The process was slow, and there were moments when the memories threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed through, driven by the desire to create a space where you could begin to heal.

By the time you finished, the apartment was transformed. The air was fresh, the rooms were clean, and though the memories of Alex were still present, they no longer felt like a burden. Instead, they were a part of the space, a part of you, but no longer held the power to drown you in grief.

You stood in the center of the living room, taking in the quiet peace that had settled over the apartment. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of calm, a sense of control over your life. You had taken the first step, and though the road ahead was still long and uncertain, you knew that you had the strength to keep going.

As you moved to close the windows, the cold night air brushed against your skin, and you paused, leaning out slightly to take in the view of Velaris under the soft glow of the stars. The city was quiet, peaceful, and as you gazed out at the familiar streets, you felt a small spark of hope begin to take root in your heart.

You had lost so much, but you had also gained a new family in the Inner Circle, people who cared for you, who would stand by you as you navigated this difficult path. And then there was Azriel—the bond that connected you to him was still new, still raw, but it was there, a lifeline that had kept you from sinking completely into the darkness.

With one last deep breath, you closed the window and turned back to the room, feeling a sense of resolve settle over you. This was the beginning of a new chapter, a new journey toward healing. And though the road ahead would be difficult, you knew that you weren’t alone.

You would keep moving forward, one step at a time. For Alex. For yourself. And for the future that was still waiting for you.

After the apartment was finally cleaned and organized, you felt the exhaustion settle into your bones. The emotional and physical toll of the day had left you drained, and you knew you needed to take care of yourself, to find some small comfort in the midst of everything.

You made your way to your bedroom, where the soft light of the moon filtered in through the freshly cleaned windows, casting a gentle glow over the space. The room, now neat and orderly, felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could retreat and begin to mend the wounds that still bled inside you.

With a sigh, you moved toward the bathroom, deciding that a warm bath might help ease some of the tension that had built up in your muscles. The idea of soaking in hot water, letting the heat melt away the stress of the day, was appealing, and you found yourself looking forward to the brief escape it would provide.

You turned on the taps, watching as steam began to rise from the water, filling the room with a soothing warmth. The scent of lavender, from a small vial of bath oil that Alex had once picked out for you, filled the air, bringing with it a wave of bittersweet memories. But instead of turning away from them, you allowed yourself to remember, to cherish the small moments of joy that had been shared.

As the tub filled, you slowly undressed, the cool air of the room brushing against your skin as you shed the layers that had been weighing you down all day. When the bath was ready, you slipped into the water, letting out a sigh as the warmth enveloped you, soothing your aching muscles and easing the tightness in your chest.

You leaned back against the edge of the tub, closing your eyes as the heat seeped into your bones. For a while, you simply let yourself float in the quiet, letting your mind drift as you soaked in the calming warmth.

But as the minutes passed, your thoughts inevitably began to turn to Azriel. The shadowy, enigmatic male who had been your constant companion for the past few weeks, who had stood by you even when you had pushed everyone else away. The memory of his gentle kiss on your forehead earlier that day lingered, a soft warmth that contrasted with the cold emptiness that had settled in your heart.

Azriel had been there for you in ways that no one else had. He had seen you at your worst, held you when you thought you might break, and offered you the quiet strength you needed to keep going. He had never pressured you, never demanded anything of you—he had simply been there, a steady presence in a world that had been turned upside down.

You opened your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as the memories of the past weeks played out in your mind. Azriel had been the one to find you after Alex’s death, the one who had carried you through the darkness when you couldn’t find your own way. He had stayed with you, even when you had asked for space, always hovering on the edges, ready to offer support if you needed it.

And you had needed it. More than you had realized.

The bond between you, though still new and raw, had grown stronger with each passing day. You could feel it now, a faint, comforting presence at the back of your mind, like a soft whisper that reminded you that you weren’t alone. It was a connection that had become a lifeline, a source of comfort that you hadn’t expected, but one that you were beginning to rely on.

As you soaked in the warmth of the bath, your thoughts drifted back to the moments you had shared with Azriel—the quiet conversations, the way he had looked at you with such care and understanding, the way his touch had grounded you when you felt like you might be swept away by grief.

You realized, with a start, that you had begun to look forward to his visits, to the sound of his voice, to the comfort of his presence. Even now, as you lay in the bath, you found yourself thinking of him, wondering when he would come to see you, when you would feel that quiet connection once more.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the first smile you had felt in what seemed like an eternity. It was a fragile thing, easily broken, but it was there, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you were beginning to heal.

You let out a soft sigh, your hand trailing through the water as you closed your eyes again, letting your thoughts drift back to Azriel. There was still so much to figure out, so much that was uncertain, but for the first time in weeks, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe there was a way forward, a way to find happiness again, even in the midst of all the loss and pain.

And maybe, just maybe, that way forward included Azriel. The thought was both comforting and terrifying, but as you lay there, surrounded by the warmth of the bath and the scent of lavender, you allowed yourself to hold onto it, to let it settle into your heart alongside the grief.

You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew one thing: you didn’t have to face it alone. Not anymore.

And for now, that was enough.

The warmth of the bath had left your skin flushed and your mind slightly clearer, though the lingering grief still weighed heavy on your heart. You had just wrapped yourself in a soft robe, your hair still damp and clinging to your neck, when a soft knock echoed through the apartment.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you recognized the familiar presence on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, you moved to open it, finding Azriel standing there, his expression as unreadable as ever, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Azriel,” you greeted softly, stepping aside to let him in. 

He entered slowly, his gaze sweeping over the apartment. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he took in the transformation. The clutter and dust were gone, replaced by a sense of order and calm that hadn’t been there for weeks. The faint scent of lavender still hung in the air, mixing with the cold freshness of the night.

"You cleaned," he remarked, his tone gentle as he looked back at you.

You nodded, pulling the robe a little tighter around you. "I needed to. It was time."

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in your appearance, noticing the dampness of your hair and the way your skin still glowed from the warmth of the bath. There was something tender in his eyes as he observed you, as if he could see the small steps you were taking toward healing.

“I brought food,” he said, holding up a bag from one of the nearby restaurants. “I thought you might be hungry.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, the gesture almost feeling foreign after weeks of sorrow. “You didn’t have to. I could’ve cooked something.”

Azriel shook his head quickly, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t need to cook for me, Y/N. I’m fine. Let me take care of this.”

His words were so earnest, so filled with care, that you couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Okay, okay, no problem. Thank you.”

The two of you moved to the couch, settling in with the food Azriel had brought. The apartment was quiet, the only sounds the occasional clinking of cutlery and the muffled noises of the city outside. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; instead, it felt like a shared understanding, a space where words weren’t always necessary.

As you ate, you found yourself stealing glances at Azriel, noticing the way his presence brought a sense of peace to the room. He had been a constant in your life these past weeks, always there when you needed him, never pushing, never demanding. Just… there.

After a while, you put down your fork and turned to him, your voice soft but filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Azriel. For everything. For staying by my side when I wasn’t sure I could keep going.”

Azriel looked at you, his expression gentle, his shadows curling lightly around his shoulders as if they, too, were reaching out to you. “You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to be here. I care about you, Y/N. I always will.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten, the bond between you humming softly in the background of your mind, a comforting presence that you were beginning to accept, to lean on.

You offered him a small, genuine smile, the first real one in what felt like forever. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Azriel’s gaze softened even further, and he reached out, his hand resting lightly on top of yours. The touch was warm, grounding, and you felt a small flicker of something more than just comfort, something that you weren’t quite ready to name yet, but that was undeniably there.

“You’re stronger than you think, Y/N,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. “But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, for as long as you need me.”

You squeezed his hand lightly, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, soothing the raw edges of your grief. “Thank you, Azriel. That means more to me than you know.”

The two of you sat there, hand in hand, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you like a soft blanket. After finishing the meal, the quiet of the apartment settled in around you once more. The lingering warmth of the food and the comfort of Azriel’s presence left you feeling a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. The heavy burden of grief was still there, but it was softened, cushioned by the knowledge that you weren’t alone.

As you both sat on the couch, the silence between you became something warm and inviting. You found yourself leaning closer to Azriel, seeking the comfort of his presence. He didn’t hesitate, his arm lifting slightly to allow you to rest your head on his shoulder. The gesture was so natural, so easy, that it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

Azriel’s body tensed slightly at first, but then he relaxed, his warmth radiating through his clothing. You could feel his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as you nestled closer. The smell of leather, pine, and something distinctly Azriel filled your senses, grounding you in the moment.

Without thinking, you reached out and gently took one of his hands in yours. You could feel him still beside you, his heartbeat quickening under your touch. Slowly, you brought his hand closer, your fingers tracing over the rough skin and the calluses that spoke of years of training and battles fought. His hands, though scarred and hardened by life, held a gentleness that belied their strength.

Azriel’s breath caught as your fingers continued their exploration, tracing the lines of his palm, brushing over the ridges of his knuckles. His shadows, usually so restless, seemed to calm, curling softly around you both as if embracing the moment.

You turned his hand over, studying it with a softness in your gaze that made Azriel’s heart race. “You’ve always been so careful with me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I was pushing everyone away… you stayed.”

Azriel’s voice was low and steady, but there was an unmistakable warmth in it. “I wanted to. I… I care about you, Y/N. I always will.”

The words were simple, but they carried a weight that settled deep in your heart. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you could see the depth of his feelings, the quiet intensity of his emotions that he so often kept hidden.

A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you continued to hold his hand, your fingers tracing small patterns on his skin. “I’m glad you did, Azriel. I’m so glad you stayed.”

Azriel swallowed, his free hand moving to gently rest on your knee, his touch light, almost hesitant. “I’ll always stay, Y/N. For as long as you want me here.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in them resonating with something deep inside you. You squeezed his hand, leaning closer to him, your head resting more comfortably on his shoulder. “Then stay,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with meaning. “Stay with me.”

Azriel’s heart pounded in his chest, the bond between you humming with quiet intensity. He turned his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your damp hair, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary. “Always,” he whispered back, the word a vow, a promise.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, the steady beat of his heart through his chest. The world outside could wait; in this moment, there was just you and Azriel, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence.

And as the night deepened, the two of you sat there, your hands intertwined, your hearts beating in sync, finding solace in the quiet connection that had grown between you. As you leaned into him, your heart fluttering softly, you felt the warmth of Azriel’s hand resting on your knee. His presence was a steady, calming force, grounding you in a way that you hadn't realized you needed. The soft glow of the dim light in the room made everything feel intimate, almost dreamlike, as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet moment.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with a gentle anticipation. The bond between you hummed softly, a warm thread that seemed to pull you closer together. Azriel’s dark eyes searched yours, as if seeking permission, seeking a sign that this was what you wanted too.

And it was. 

Without breaking the gaze, you shifted slightly, turning towards him. Your hand, still holding his, tightened its grip as you leaned in. Azriel’s breath hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips. 

He leaned in too, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t want to pull away. You wanted to close the gap, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours.

And then, finally, you did.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched, something inside you both seemed to click into place. The world around you faded completely, leaving only the sensation of Azriel’s lips against yours, warm and gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

His free hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as he deepened the kiss. It was slow, tender, but there was a passion behind it, a need that had been building for far longer than either of you had realized.

You responded in kind, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more insistent, more real. The bond between you thrummed with approval, the connection between you both solidifying in a way that left no room for doubt.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, your foreheads rested against each other. Azriel’s eyes were dark, intense, filled with an emotion so raw and powerful that it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling as you looked at him. “I’m here, Azriel. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Neither am I,” he whispered back, the words filled with a promise that you knew he would keep.

The kiss between you and Azriel deepened, the tender exploration quickly giving way to a more urgent need. Your hands roamed his chest under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips, while his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The air between you grew heavy with anticipation.

But then, as if realizing that this moment required something more than just the couch in the living room, Azriel paused, his dark eyes searching yours for permission. When you gave him a slight nod, he swiftly and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards your bedroom. The gesture was gentle, but there was a strength behind it that made your heart race.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the soft sheets cool against your heated skin. Your hands immediately went to the waistband of his pants, but he caught them gently, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and something deeper—something that made your chest tighten with emotion.

“Let me,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he slowly began to remove the last of your clothing, his fingers trailing over your skin as he did. The fabric fell away, leaving you exposed to him, but rather than feeling vulnerable, you felt… cherished. Azriel’s gaze was reverent, as if you were the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.

He followed quickly, shedding most of his own clothing before joining you on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he leaned over you, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was both passionate and tender. The urgency from before was still there, but it was tempered by a deep, unspoken understanding that this moment was more than just physical.

Azriel’s hands began to explore your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he caressed your curves. His lips trailed from your mouth down to your neck, leaving a path of soft kisses that made your breath hitch in your throat. When he reached your breasts, he took his time, his hands and mouth lavishing attention on you in a way that made your body respond with a burning heat.

You gasped softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he teased your nipples with his tongue, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Azriel’s hand slid lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach before finding their way between your thighs. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, seeking permission once again.

You answered with a quiet moan, your hips instinctively tilting towards him, inviting his touch. Azriel’s eyes darkened with desire as he let his fingers slide over your folds, his touch gentle but deliberate as he began to explore you.

The sensation was overwhelming, your body reacting to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Azriel seemed to know exactly what you needed, his fingers moving with a skill that left you breathless. He circled your most sensitive spot, his touch driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then, just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he moved lower, his lips following the path his fingers had traced. You barely had time to react before you felt the warmth of his mouth against your most intimate place, his tongue flicking against you with a tenderness that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

Your back arched off the bed, a soft cry escaping your lips as Azriel’s tongue worked its magic. He was relentless, his movements precise, each flick of his tongue and gentle suck drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. The bond between you flared, pulsing with approval as he brought you higher and higher, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady.

When the release finally came, it was like a wave crashing over you, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it. Your hands clutched at the sheets, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Azriel continued to guide you through the aftershocks, his tongue slowing its movements but never stopping.

It wasn’t until you were trembling and spent that he finally pulled back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as you came down from the high. You lay there, your chest heaving, your mind spinning with the sheer intensity of what had just happened.

Azriel crawled up beside you, his body warm and solid as he pulled you into his arms. The world outside the bed seemed to fade away as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm, grounding you in the moment.

But even as you lay there, wrapped in his embrace, a wave of emotion welled up inside you. The events of the day—the burial, the memories, the grief—suddenly felt overwhelming, and before you knew it, soft tears began to slip down your cheeks.

Azriel noticed immediately, his arms tightening around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that only made the tears fall faster. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his skin as you let out the pain that had been building inside you for weeks. It wasn’t just about the loss of Alex—it was about everything. The grief, the guilt, the fear of moving on, the fear of letting go. And through it all, Azriel held you, his presence a steady, unyielding support.

When the tears finally subsided, leaving you feeling raw but lighter, you looked up at him, your eyes red-rimmed and filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For being here… for everything.”

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “Always,” he murmured, his voice full of conviction. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth settle in your chest as you snuggled closer to him. The day had been long, the emotions heavy, but here, in Azriel’s arms, you felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t known in a long time.

The two of you lay there in the quiet, your breathing slowly evening out as the exhaustion of the day caught up with you. Azriel’s hand gently stroked your hair, his touch soothing, and it wasn’t long before your eyes began to droop, sleep pulling you under.

Just before you drifted off, you heard Azriel’s voice, soft and full of emotion. “I care about you so much, Y/N. More than you know.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, but you squeezed his hand, letting him know you heard him, that you felt the same. And as you finally succumbed to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift, replaced by the comforting knowledge that you didn’t have to face the darkness alone.

---

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[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

part 11- a thousand candles burn into the night

"When the ashes start to rise and the moon falls from the sky and a thousand candles burn into the night. When the angels softly cry on the flames below the sky, would a thousand souls still pray for you and I?" -Day of the Dead by Hollywood Undead

Masterlist Part 10

Just like the summer air began to cool into autumn winds, Jasmine and Jason began with a heated tension between them that dwindled into a slow simmer of what neither of them wanted to jinx by calling it love. 

Both were aware of how unnatural their connection was, how quick one was able to trust the other with simple thoughts that roll off the tongue- Jazz’s favorite tea, Jason’s favorite book, her younger siblings, his many brothers. It was obvious that Jason held some lingering anger towards those he called family, but it was an old wound, infected yet healing. When it came to more in-depth questions about Jazz’s siblings, Danny and Ellie, there was a sad tinge to the affection. Jazz missed Ellie with every fiber of her being, but her little sister was free as her heart desired. 

Jason spoke at length about his own, eventually admitting his anger issues that had led him to attempted murder on one of the younger boys, Tim, that he deeply regretted. 

Jazz had only to listen, because who else could understand the deeply rooted rage that came with betrayal? 

One slash, two, three

Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash

Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash. 

Slash six, seven

Sharpen your love into a weapon

They went out on several dates, each one special and lovely, but Jazz’s favorite was being wrapped in familiar arms as they watched Pride and Prejudice on Jason’s couch. It was a comfortable warmth that lulled the redhead into a deep sleep, the best she had gotten in a long time. 

Jazz was the first to wake, lying on Jason’s firm chest and ear pressed firmly to where she could hear a faint purr from his Proto-Core, she felt no compulsion to move even though there were things she had to do as Regent and as Jasmine. 

She had to talk to Frostbite, because she needed to understand why she was so connected to Jason. It frightened Jazz, to have her emotions so sharpened towards someone she hadn’t known for very long. 

(She was in love.) 

Her own Proto-core purred in tandem with Jason’s, happiness bubbling up in her chest. This was a peace she never wanted to let go, regardless of the reason why the two of them were brought and bound together. 

Jason was in love. 

There was zero doubt in his head or heart that he was fully committed to his darling Jazz, the beautiful woman who understood him in ways no one ever had. With her, the pit remnants were calm and he was happy. 

Happy. 

Sheer happiness was in his grasp, in his arms and resting on his chest as she slept. Her long hair smelled like strawberries and he never wanted to leave. 

Yet, bat-trained paranoia reared its ugly head in moments like these. 

Jasmine Nightingale was, by all accounts, a civilian with a trust fund who cared for her younger brother. No other records were found that could tie either Jazz or Danny to crime, but Jason didn’t want to see them if they existed anyway. He hadn’t even met Danny yet and the kid, despite being prime adoption bait, was already one of Jason’s favorite people. He made Jazz proud with his intelligence and good-natured attitude, so Jason would do his best to form a good relationship with the kid. 

He guessed he should be more concerned with how quickly he fell for his darling, but he wasn’t. It felt right. It felt safe. Like he could trust Jazz with every thought, every dream, every hope, every nightmare and she wouldn’t run away. He wanted her, plain and simple. 

Thankfully Jazz was more or less on the same page as him. 

She never had to say a word about how she felt for him, it was obvious in the way she would gravitate towards him, want to be around him, talk to him, simply be with Jason. How honored he felt to be gifted such attention by Jazz. 

He didn’t know how to tell her about Red Hood though. 

The Nightingales lived outside Crime Alley’s borders, in a shitty neighborhood of Gotham recently claimed by two new vigilantes- Phantom and Regent. 

Jason tried to shove back the horrifying images of a vivisectied Phantom, screaming, sobbing and whimpering, but he would ever be able to forget. 

The video of Regent killing the Fentons was glitched, but cross referenced with the Ghost Files, it was obvious the Regent of Now and Then were the same woman…entity that saved Phantom, no, avenged the ghost kid. 

The fact that the Fentons death prevented a war was karmic justice, in his humble opinion. 

Yet, there was something familiar about the Regent. Something that called to him on a baser level… as if he knew the entity behind the helmet. 

But that was ridiculous…right? 

Right? 

Jazz was going to kill him all the way this time, Danny bemoaned while in flight. He really stuck his foot in it this time and yikes, he really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. 

He just had to go behind Jazz’s back and give the Ghost Files to Batman instead of Superman or Constantine. Big and blue wasn’t available when Danny found an opportunity and for shame if he wasted it! Sad trench coat man being there was really just a bonus, honestly. 

With the Acts getting the League’s attention, it was time for a desperate move on the part of the GIW. 

They infiltrated Gotham. 

Danny had no idea how they had found a way past the border Lady Gotham kept a tight leash on, but the agents were able to pick up his trail with a lucky break on their end. He had a haunt in Gotham, which meant his ecto-signature was strong in that area and weak in others. A glaring neon sign of where the Phantom often could be found. 

But Danny would never give up his haunt again, not without a fight. 

This haunt didn’t just belong to him, not like Amity had. This had become the home of the Nightingales, the Phantom and the Regent. They had shed blood to claim it and would shed more to keep it. 

If it meant admitting to his mistake, then so be it, that’s where he would start. 

“Bold of you to assume I thought that far ahead.” Was probably not the best response to Jazz’s irate question of ‘Did you even consider what Batman, Mr. Contingencies-out-the-ass and minion-acquisition-instead-of-therapy, would do with the files?’ 

Needless to say, Jazz wasn’t impressed. 

She had been rather happier lately, with her boyfriend Jason constantly in her orbit, but responsibility still weighed on her. 

(Danny’s fault, he was aware, but he still had so much growing up to do before he was ready for the crown.)

Getting the AEA demolished was sure to take some weight from her, even if it would be only the beginning of resolving the repercussions of the United States’ crimes against the Infinite Realms. 

It would be years before it would be considered repaid, the blood shed and existences snuffed out. The deaths of the Dr. Fentons were only a consequence of their actions, not truly recompense for the torture they inflicted on the people of the Realms. 

(Danny never told Jazz, but he knew they didn’t die when the portal was destroyed.)

(He knew his sister had killed their parents to save him.) 

(He still didn’t know how to feel about that.) 

Lady Gotham offered a sad croon as Phantom curled his form under a gargoyle’s wings, the heavy rain an ironic ambiance for his mood.

There was nothing he could do about the GIW in Gotham until they showed themselves and they were doing an unusually good job of keeping on the down low. If it hadn’t been for the frantic screeches of the friendly shades and a few blob ghosts cuddling him for comfort, he would have been caught off-guard by an attack. As long as he stayed out of his haunt for a while, let his signature be caught somewhere else, then Jazz would be able to defend their home until he could deal with the bastards. 

He just needed to wait. 

Jazz had been livid with him admitting his fuck up with the files and deeming the GIW’s presence his fault for claiming a Haunt. With a threat to hug him and make him talk about his feelings until he no longer believed such a lie, Jazz agreed to remain in their Haunt until he could draw some of their forces away. Lady Gotham’s ecto-siganture would be enough to scramble their trackers once further into her city and she would subtly lead her Knights to the agents when able. 

It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.

Phantom curled his tail around his laid back form, mimicking a cat as he texted Sam and Tucker with updates. They had sworn to visit him during Summer Break, but the Halfa wasn’t holding his breath. Gotham wasn’t safe for them. It wasn’t safe for anyone and that’s coming from a kid who can punt a building into the sun at a moment’s notice. 

Amity was (laughably) the best place for them. 

Phantom wasn’t really paying attention, absentmindly petting a blob ghost that was cuddled into his side, when he was joined by none other than the Red Hood. 

Badass armor and weapons aside, the Hood was an Antihero he admired. The avenged dead sung his praises for all who’d listen. 

And… he was very familiar. 

Red Hood possessed a Proto-core, one he’d sensed before in his own home….with Jazz. 

It couldn’t be. There was no way the Fenton luck could be that wonky that his big sister was dating Red Hood of all people, Jason Todd when unmasked. She had to know right? There was no way Jazz could miss the Proto-core signature of the Once-Revenant they’d housed for a while. Was Jazz okay with Jason’s past? Sure, Red Hood didn’t kill much anymore, but he was still a crime lord who thought severed heads in a duffel bag was a great gift to leave on someone’s doorstep, like a particularly picky cat. 

“Uh, hi?” 

Hood crouched down, rain blocked by his huge body, water droplets dripping off his red helmet. The white lenses gave nothing away as the Anti-hero spoke, “Hey kid. You ok?” 

(Danny was well aware of how gentle and caring Red Hood was towards kids.) 

(He couldn’t wait to be an uncle.) 

“I’m fine, dude. Just chilling.” 

“Under a gargoyle in Gotham?” The disbeliving tone made Phantom snort in laughter, because wow not the scariest concept to a halfa. 

“Hey, it was either this or the sewers. I wouldn’t be caught dead,” Phantom chuckled a bit at his joke. “Down there without hazmat gear and the Anti-Creep stick.” 

Hood snorted, the sound stackity through the modulator, “Fair enough. Don’t get caught by the big bat, ok? He doesn’t like Metas in his city.” 

“Oi, being dead is a meta-cal condition.” 

“Ugh,” Hood groaned, “a punster. You’re not dead, kid.” 

“‘Fraid I am, my good dude. Fourteen and fried alive, zero outta ten, would not recommend.” 

“...You’re a ghost?” 

“Right in one! Name’s Phantom.” the Halfa offered, seeing no point in correcting the Anti-hero. 

“Red Hood.” 

“Dude, I know. The shades sing your praises given half a chance.” 

“Shades?” 

Phantom shrugged, “The restless dead, unable to pass over without a lot of ectoplasm.” 

Hood didn’t ask what ectoplasm was, which surprised the Halfa. Did Batman share the Ghost Files with Red Hood? 

“You’re from Amity Park, right?” 

Phantom cringed at the name of his former haunt, anger bubbling in his gut, “I died there. I haunt Gotham now.” 

“....I’m sorry.” Even with the modulator, Hood sounded genuinely sad for Phantom. 

(Batman definitely shared the Ghost Files with the Anti-Hero.)

“Are you alright here? Do you need help?” 

Phantom shook his head, “The GIW invaded Gotham tracking my Ecto-signature, so I’m leading them away from my Haunt.” He raised an eyebrow, “You should be careful too. You’re a pretty strong liminal, but they’ll still try to capture you.” 

“No, they won’t get me. Phantom, where’s your haunt?” 

If Hood was anyone else, Phantom would keep his mouth shut. A Haunt is sacred, a home for a Fraid, it was not some measly address freely given. Yet, Red Hood was also Jason Todd, Once-Revenant Death-claimed Champion turned Proto-core Liminal dating his older sister. If Jazz trusted him enough to date him, then it was good enough for Phantom to offer him a place in his Fraid. (He really couldn’t wait to be an uncle.)

A/N: This was beta-read by @meditating-cat, thanks!

The little bit at the end there... foreshadowing, perhaps? Ooh... all those baby names I could give a Hardcover kid.

Perhaps, perhaps not. Who knows. I have the end of this series mostly planned out, but it could likely change.

Thanks for reading!

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 15

As much as I love the CC boys and all their friends it was time to show life outside them for a second. And Steve got his bitch back.

TW: for homophobic language (rando OC)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

Steve drove to school feeling lighter than he had in weeks. His parents were still shit but he had friends and people who would look out for him and wasn’t that just a surprise and a half.

He pulled into the parking lot and got out, Eddie pulling into the spot next to him. He had closed the door, pulling his backpack over one shoulder when Nancy and Jonathan appeared out of nowhere.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Steve said with a small smile. “I’ve got this. I’ll see you at lunch, okay.”

Eddie nodded and walked to class.

Steve turned back to see Nancy and Jonathan staring at him in shock. “How can I help you two?”

“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You’ve been missing a lot of school.”

Steve raised both eyebrows.

“We’re worried about you, man,” Jonathan said. “Especially after what happened with Miss Chen and your assignment.”

Steve sighed. He wanted to be mad at them but he couldn’t. They were worried he might be thrown in jail.

“That was straight up bullshit, by the way,” he growled. “I wasn’t going to show an actual demogorgon or make the characters even look like us. It was just a way to process the trauma. Because I don’t know about you two, but I can’t sleep at night. If it’s not waking up screaming, it’s not being able to go to sleep at all.”

Nancy and Jonathan shared a glance.

Jonathan sighed. “Yeah. It’s got be worse for you because Nancy has Mike and I have both my mom and Will...and well it’s pretty bad for him, too. But you’re all alone in that big house and you’re parents don’t know.” He made an aborted gesture of understanding.

“So we just wanted to check up on you,” Nancy explained, hugging her books to her chest.

Steve ran his hands over his face. “I’m just trying to move on. Make friends that aren’t bullies. That’s not to say you guys are or whatever. It’s just...I don’t want to be on high alert the rest of my life. I’m happy for the first in so long.”

Jonathan licked his lower lip slowly. “You don’t have to answer, but are you with Eddie?”

Steve’s head reared back. “What? How did you–”

He smiled softly, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good for you, man.”

Nancy just looked between them confused.

Jonathan kissed the top of her head. “I’ll explain later. We’ve got to get to class.” He waved at Steve. “See you around, man.” And led her into the school.

Well, shit.

Steve didn’t know how he felt about them knowing before Jeff and Gareth and the rest. But it was out of the bag now. And despite everything he’d been through with Jonathan he knew he wouldn’t tell anyone.

He sighed and made his way to the swimming pool to start morning practice.

*

Steve sat at the edge of the pool in his Speedo, just kicking his feet. Coach Hall came over.

“Hey, Harrington,” he said, crouching down. “Got word from Doc Martinez. You’re cleared for competition. He says your scans look good and as long as you don’t have a headache day of, you’re good to go.”

Steve grinned. “That’s great news, Coach. Do you think I could add butterfly back in or should stick to relay?”

Coach Hall smiled fondly. “Well, I know I would prefer my best butterfly swimmer back in, but...”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Coach Hall patted his shoulder and he slipped into the pool. Ezra immediately swam over to meet him.

“Hey, what did Coach say?”

Steve told him and Ezra grinned. “Hell, yeah. It’s good to see you back, man. It was lonely without you.”

Steve laughed, pushing him away. “Get off, you loon.”

Ezra laughed with him and swam back to the other side of the pool. Steve pulled his goggles down over his eyes and dove beneath the water. Instantly the buzzing sounds inside his head calmed and he felt at peace.

This was where he belonged. He liked basketball, he was good at it. Baseball was fine, but he spent most of the game being bored. But this? This was bliss. Just him and the water.

He surfaced, taking a large breath. He heard the coach’s whistle and came over to the side with everyone else. He listened to the instructions and nodded.

Suddenly it was time to go wash up and change. He eyed the girls as they passed each other. The girls were coming in as the boys were leaving. All the girls were twittering and point at the guys as the guys leered back in turn. Steve didn’t feel the surge of attraction he did when he thought of Eddie up on that stage last night. There was no swooping of his belly, no heat further down.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that was certainly something he hadn’t really considered. He had been expecting some kind of attraction. He had had sex with only girls, he had only been on dates with girls. But now that he had something to compare the feelings to...

It was heartbreakingly obvious that he was gay.

Shit.

Steve fretted over showering with the guys. But when he got there he realized that he automatically self-corrected and didn’t look. He never had. It had been a habit. One that he did even with the knowledge he was attracted to boys.

Huh.

That was quite the revelation.

*

Steve barely made it through his next two classes because he wanted to see Eddie so bad.

He grabbed his lunch and went to go sit down went got bumped into by one of his old baseball teammates.

He managed to hold on to the tray, but he growled, “Watch it, man.”

The boy looked him up and down. “I see you hang with the Freaks now, Harrington. You take it up the ass now, too?”

Steve eyes raked over him. “Why? You looking for a turn?”

The boy pushed him. “I’m not a fag like you, freak!”  

Steve sighed. He could feel almost every eye in the cafeteria on them. “Look,” he said, gripping the edges of the tray. “Doesn’t it get exhausting trying to prove something to these assholes?” He waved at their captive audience. “They don’t care about you or me. In six months, they won’t even remember our names.”

“Just because people have forgotten you, Harrington,” the boy growled, “doesn’t mean they’ll forget me, asshole.”

Steve laughed. “I think between the two of us, they’re more likely to forget you then me.” He leaned forward. “You want to know why? Because you haven’t forgotten me, dude. So what does that say about the rest of them?”

The kid sneered and stalked off.

Steve shook his head and then continued his trek to Eddie’s table. He sat down to eat, but after a moment he realized that they were all staring at him, wide-eyed and in shock.

“What?”

“Dude!” Jeff said, sitting back.

Brian nodded. “That was the most brutal verbal take down I’ve seen in a long time, man.”

“It was sick!” Gareth said gleefully.

Eddie stared at him, doe-eyed and fond. “I love you.”

The other three laughed.

Steve grinned back. “I know, I love you, too.”

Jeff, Brian, and Gareth all looked at each other, sharing shocked by happy faces.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” Gareth said, bouncing almost out of his chair.

“When did you guys get together?” Jeff hissed, leaning forward so they weren’t overheard.

Eddie blushed. “This morning.” He ducked his head, shyly.

“Boom-chicka-wow-wow,” Brian teased. “Don’t think we didn’t notice that Eddie here was wearing Steve-o’s clothes.”

“Guys...” Steve protested, “it wasn’t like that. My parents came home and my dad was being he’s usual ass-self and Eddie stayed over to make sure I was okay.”

Jeff sighed. “Damn. Can’t tease you about that one.”

“But we can still tease you,” Gareth said with a grin, “about Eddie wearing designer jeans without a single rip or tear.”

Eddie looked down at his pants and cursed. “Shit. I didn’t think about that.”

“Ah yes,” Steve said dreamily. “Eddie’s aesthetic. Wouldn’t want to destroy that carefully maintained image.”

“Shut it, Harrington,” Eddie grumbled.

Steve laughed out loud. “I know it’s almost the end of the day or whatever,” he said digging into his backpack. “But you can use this to distress them.” He handed over a couple of sheets of sandpaper.

“Why do you have sandpaper in your backpack, dude?” Jeff asked.

“It’s for my art class,” Steve explained. “We have these little paper sticks we use to help with shading called smudge sticks and the only way to clean them is to rub them over sandpaper. Here, let me show you.”

He got out his drawing pad and a smudge stick, flipping to a drawing he was still working on. He began working the stick over the harsh pencil lines, smoothing them down.

‘That’s so cool,” Gareth said, leaning closer.

Steve held up the stick. “See how dirty it got?” Everyone nodded. And then Steve grabbed the sandpaper and rubbed the stick over it, making sure to turn the stick so he got all the sides. “Tada!”

“Huh,” Eddie said, “that is neat.”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, well. So there you go, you have something to make the jeans more you.”

Eddie stared at him starry-eyed. “You are an absolute wonder, Steve Harrington.”

Steve just blushed and shook his head.

*

Steve got called to the office in his drama class saying that his mother was on the phone.

He sighed and reassured everyone that everything was fine. That she had promised to call and that’s all this was.

He didn’t tell them that the reason she was calling while Steve was in class is because she was in her layover in Paris, France.

He walked into the office and the secretary left him alone. Not because of who he was, but because of who his mother was.

“Hey, Mom,” Steve greeted.

“I’m sorry to pull out of class, love,” Mrs Harrington replied. “But our flight to France was delayed but our flight out of France was bumped up an hour and we only have forty minutes between flights now.”

He sighed. “That sucks. Were you able to get your luggage, okay?”

“We were, thank you, Steven,” she murmured. “I wanted to apologize for your father last night. You know how shouty he gets when he starts drinking. He never means the things he says.”

Steve closed his eyes. He thought that’s what this conversation was going to be about. What all their conversations were about. Nadia Harrington apologizing for whatever dickish thing her husband had done. It was one of the reasons his mother was so respected in town.

Dad would come tearing through making his mark, making himself the center of attention and then Mom would come behind and smooth away bad feelings.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he assured her. “I know what he’s like. But I really can’t quit drama. Or I won’t graduate.”

She sighed. “I know, dear. And I know you’re only doing your best. But he just has such high hopes for you. To start working his accounting firm, to follow in his footsteps.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m just not good with numbers like he is.”

Mrs Harrington hummed. “We’ll figure something out, Steven.”

“We always do, Mom,” he agreed.

“I love you so, much,” she murmured. “But your father is giving me the stink eye.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Steve hung up the phone and sighed deeply into his hands. The secretary came out and smiled at him.

“It’s so nice of her to call you to check up on you,” she said cheerfully.

Steve stared at her blankly. There was no asking how he was. What he was doing. Who his new friends were. Just excuses for his dad. He forced a smile in return and then left to go back to class.

Nothing quite like a conversation with your mother to ruin your day, he sighed as he settled back into his group.

Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead  @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot  @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread estrellami-1

[520cafe]

sour grapes. oversized black tee

you stepped out the bathroom with a new change of clothes particularly, an oversized black shirt. it was warm, soft as cotton and nicely wrapped around your body like a curtain but, it was that familiar scent that made you dizzy and almost drove you crazy. what is this feeling?

dan heng just finished setting up the bed in his room and immediately turned his attention to you once he heard the sound of the doors opening. it then fell silent.

it was the way his face softened at the sight of you wearing his shirt; it was the way his eyes went up and down in awe; it was the way a smile gently graced his lips with no effort of trying to hide it. his blue eyes held a light to them, and it was one of fondness.

“hey, dan heng?…” the slight shakiness in your voice did not hide how your heartbeat felt as if it was fluttering. he only sighed while still keeping the same endearing smile on his face.

“the bed is ready, what do you think?” dan heng stepped aside to give you a closer look. the look in his eyes glistened when he managed to capture your star-struck reaction, like he was admiring a painting that held no flaws.

“ you.. kept all of them.”

the sight before you was a small cluster of plushies neatly lined up on the pillows that possessed a special memory to you. without thinking, you sat on the bed and held one of them in your hands as the events distinctively played out in your mind like a vintage record player.

back when you and dan heng were together, there was one thing or “tradition” that remained unchanged within your past relationship: arcade dates. whenever you were unable to get a plushie from those almost rigged crane machines, it was your look of disappointment that would tug at dan heng’s heart strings and result in you carrying a handful of colourful and adorable plushies at the end of the day, thanks to dan heng.

whenever your eyes followed the dramatic fall of the plushie from the crane slowly losing its grip, dan heng would lightly brush his hand against yours and take over with a determined look on his face, intent on getting you that specific plushie and getting rid of those rain clouds above your head. in a way, it felt as if you were holding dan heng’s warm hand again from the way you tightly held the plushie in your arms, just like how it used to be.

“it’s not like i could just throw all of them away right?” he answered. yet, his voice was rather deep and lazy, steadily feeling relaxed and at peace within your presence. “but it’s getting late, you should get some rest now.”

“yeah.. you’re right,” you placed the plushie on your lap and comfortably rested your chin on top of the plushie’s head. it was as if you shot a cupid’s arrow directly to his heart because now, dan heng could feel his heart racing and pounding like loud bells in his ears. “good night then, dan heng.”

“good night, [name].”

before you could even respond to him, dan heng gave you a small wave as he walked into the bathroom and away from your sight. if you shot the first arrow towards his heart then dan heng must have bounced it back at you because, it was the way your name rolled off perfectly from his voice that made heat rush to the surface of your cheeks. his voice held so much affection and awe towards you just like how it did in the past, and those black and white memories of what was once a fairytale-like relationship were now gradually being filled with vivid colours and being retold to you like a story book. it felt so wrong yet so right.

dan heng heavily brings his hand to his chest while leaning against the door whereas you fell face first into his pillow on the bed. whatever this strange feeling was that caused your heart to feel an unknown nervousness, was the start to your internal snowball of conflicting emotions.

cupid has successfully done the first step to their job.

🍇 SOUR GRAPES 〈 11 oversized black tee

━━ MASTERLIST. ╱ PREV. ╱ NEXT.

╰► SYNOPSIS. after being in the same tight-knit friend group for over a few months now, suspicions begin to rise when march, seele and bronya start to notice the awkward tensions between you and dan heng. little did they know, you and dan heng were once high-school sweethearts who shared a romantic and fairytale-like past where the pages only lasted for a year. this heartbreak led you to meet another unfortunate victim of cupid but that chapter flew away as quick as stardust. yet, it appears that you two were also destined to cross paths once more.

╰► [ a/n ] : AAAAHHHHH woah what’s this i’m back to 2 updates per week?? honestly updates may vary but at least expect an update once per week! hope you all enjoy this chapter of sour grapes! <3

━━ TAGLIST. @lauvwar-r @sunsethw4 @shizu-c @amyena @zephestia @loudeggbananaranch @lunavixia @twistedrxses @shinjuuz @danhenglovebot @flos-veritatis @sammy-hammy @kiwidoves @aeongiies @heartswonder @lilactaro @lunnaeclipse @aquatikk @obervation-subject-753 @vellichxrr6782 @rubberduckieyourtheone @viovya @stayriki @ceylestia @starryeyedkoko @theflameofyoursoul @kalims @liminalimmortal

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 11

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: making out to the point of hickeys and low level states of undress (don't read if you're not particularly comfortable with it, it's pretty early on and you don't really need it for the rest to make sense 👍), swearing, reader's mother (Emma) is a gem and loves teasing them, lockwood's hands (and ring), I have no idea what came over me to make me write this (I was probably thinking about his hands let's be real)

series masterlist

“I just don’t understand how they never gave themselves away,” Y/n said while she and Anthony got ready for bed. 

He was in the bathroom, so she’d had to raise her voice a little in order to be heard. When he didn’t respond immediately, she frowned at the closed door. “Anthony? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright, darling.” She heard shuffling and then the click of the door as it opened, and he stepped out, dressed in his pyjamas. 

“Still can’t believe you have matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” she snorted, moving over to the bathroom. 

“You love my matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” he called as she started brushing her teeth. “And as for how they never gave themselves away, I imagine they were all waiting for the moment they could finally breathe again. Your mother especially, did you see how tightly she hugged me earlier? I thought she might crush my ribs.”

“You’re so dramatic, Ant,” Y/n replied after spitting out the toothpaste. She washed her mouth out, flicked the light off in the bathroom, and headed for the bed. Anthony was already sat on his side, the covers pulled back for her to get in, and she curled up next to him. His arm automatically came around her body, fingers burying in the fabric of her (his) top. 

“You love that too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her head. She hummed, burying her face in his chest and swinging her legs over his. The afternoon had been peaceful after Steph and Linda had finally left (although not without a lot of pointing fingers, empty threats, and slammed doors), with Y/n’s family asking questions about their relationship and wanting the real answers this time, and her father had received a call saying that the roads would be clear in the next day or so, and there was a limited train service starting up not too long after that. The storm had blown over faster than people had anticipated, but with the limited technology they had for weather readings, anybody’s guess could be the official report. They had booked tickets on the first train back in four days time, and Y/n knew that both her and Anthony were looking forward to getting back to Portland Row. 

“You know,” she started, feeling her eyes start to close when he started threading his fingers through her hair. His other hand was on her thigh, just above her knee. “We should probably think about what we’re gonna do when we get back. About the whole ‘we don’t hate each other now and we’re actually dating’ thing.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. Maybe we just… don’t say anything, like your family? And see how long it takes for them to bring it up?”

“Ant, why would we do that?”

“Because it’s funny?” It was a rhetorical question, and she could feel him smiling from the way his jaw shifted over her head. His fingers hadn’t left her hair, and the hand on her thigh had edged upwards slightly while they’d been talking. 

“I suppose it would be quite funny, wouldn’t it?” she mused, nudging her leg further into his grip subconsciously. He hadn’t taken off the ring he always wore, and it was cold against her skin. 

“See, I’m winning you over,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You missed,” she murmured, sitting up a little and opening her eyes. 

“Missed?”

“Yeah.” She took his face in her hands, nudging her nose against his before kissing him. When she pulled back after a few seconds he automatically followed her, eyes still closed while he searched for her lips again. “Anthony,” she breathed, feeling his breath fan over her face. He surged forward, his grip on her thigh tightening a little while the hand that had been in her hair slid down and cupped her cheek as he kissed her.   She brought her hand to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his pyjama shirt and gasping when he deepened the kiss, and she thought she might pass out from how gentle yet desperate he was. She could feel it, how he was holding back and taking it slow, but the fire that burned in her needed more, making her shift in his lap so she was straddling his hips, and if she could take the sound he made when she did so and bottle it up to keep forever, she would. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered between kisses, tilting his head slightly to press his mouth to her cheek, and then her jaw, and then her neck. 

“I hope not,” she replied, burying her hands in his hair when he kissed a spot on her neck that made her feel like she was in heaven. “I quite like having you around, actually.”

“Yeah?” He made his way back up her neck, his hand hot and searing where it sat on her thigh. She met his eyes, the half-closed lids and blown pupils combined with his swollen lips making the fire burn hotter, and kissed him sweetly. 

“Yeah.” His hair was a mess, but he’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment, the golden glow of the bedside lamp highlighting his features and casting long shadows at the same time, and she threaded her fingers through the mop of hair that was starting to stick to his forehead. “Just promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said, not waiting for her to finish. She thought she could live on the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing he had ever wanted and he needed her to breathe. 

“Stay alive for me? When we get back? You can’t keep- you can’t keep being so reckless with your- your life. Anthony.” He’d trailed the hand that had rested on her cheek down her side, and had gripped her hips with both hands, his fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt she was wearing and bunching it up slightly. 

“Sorry, darling.” She supposed she could forgive him when his voice was so low and hoarse, and his fingers were creeping under the top to stroke her skin. “I promise I’ll live for you.” The next kiss burned, filled with the weight of what he’d just sworn, and it was only when they couldn’t hold their breath for any longer that they finally pulled away for air. “I promise,” he whispered into her skin, dragging her closer by his grip on her waist. “I promise.” His hand was drifting upwards slowly, the cold metal of his ring a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and she knew he was waiting for her to tell him it was alright. His lips had barely left hers, and when she took her hands out of his hair to start undoing the buttons on his shirt she felt his breath hitch. 

“This okay?” she asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly, leaning back in for another kiss. He was drunk on her, she was sure, but she wasn’t exactly sober herself. Eventually he decided she was moving too slowly, taking the bottom of his top into his own hands and doing it himself. The next few minutes were frantic, Anthony’s shirt discarded on the floor by the bed and hers on the way to joining it, hands travelling over skin in an attempt to know every inch of each other. When he lifted her up and laid her on her back, settling between her legs while he braced himself on one arm and held her with the other, she knew she was doomed. 

~~~

The next morning, Emma was on tea duty. 

She and Ben took turns making teas for the family in the morning, and as she traipsed upstairs with a full tray of mugs (after depositing two in her parents’ bedroom downstairs) she yawned, hoping that everyone was at least a little bit awake so that she could go back to bed and read her book. John was first, bleary-eyed and scratching his side like a monkey, and he took his tea with a very sleepy “Mornin’ Mum”, the door closing in her face as soon as he had a grip on the handle of the mug. Then was Sam and Will, who were being made to share, and as she had expected Will was the opposite of John, wide awake and already dressed, reading in bed with the small lamp on so that he didn’t wake Sam. “Thanks, Mum,” he’d smiled, planting a kiss on her cheek and kicking the door shut after taking his and Sam’s teas. Tom was in the library with his colouring (she had to stop and put down the plastic mat so that he didn’t accidentally colour the furniture), and he barely acknowledged her presence when she left the mug on the table nearby and told him to be careful. Olivia wasn’t awake, so Emma left the mug on her bedside table and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before creeping back out and moving on to the last room before her own. 

A soft knock was normally enough to alert Y/n, telling her that the teas were ready, but when after roughly thirty seconds nobody appeared at the door, Emma frowned, balanced the tray on her hip, and gently pushed open the door. “Oh,” she whispered to herself upon seeing her eldest daughter and Anthony curled up in bed together, both sound asleep. 

She’d figured that the two of them weren’t actually dating after they’d first arrived, although at the time she’d thought it was more that they were in a rough patch and were attempting to hide it. They’d argued over who was taking the suitcase in, for crying out loud! But then Anthony had gone and comforted her after Steph had made comments that forced Y/n upstairs, and Emma had been confused again. When Olivia had been helping her get dinner ready that first night, she’d put forward the idea that maybe they weren’t together, and Y/n just felt that she couldn’t turn up without a boyfriend to a huge gathering where everybody thought she was in a relationship. Then things had started making sense, like the way Y/n had looked stiff in his arms for the first few days, or how she would glare at Anthony instead of gazing lovingly at him like Emma knew she herself did with Ben. 

At some point something had changed, though, because now they were apparently actually together. She, along with everyone else, had spent the afternoon yesterday questioning the young couple on pretty much everything, including why the hell they hated each other in the first place. Anthony had gone bright red, apologising profusely for his behaviour, and then Y/n had interrupted and said that she should be the one apologising, and then the pair of them had traded such love-struck looks that it made even Emma want to throw up a little. She was planning on getting the photo albums out today, since she had been so scared of revealing that she knew the truth before that she hadn’t fully settled in to the role of Embarrassing Mother. She’d wanted Y/n to feel that she could come forward in her own time, and the situation was sticky enough as it was with Steph and Linda (she frowned at the memory of how poorly her sister and niece had acted) making comments and embarrassing Y/n that Emma had taken a step back. Now, however, there was no hiding. Anthony would be seeing all of the photos of Y/n as a baby, and that was that. 

She would have a field day at breakfast, too, if her assumptions were correct. 

From what she could tell as she put the cups of tea on the bedside table and had a quick look around the room, neither Anthony nor Y/n were wearing tops, and in the dim light of the room she could tell that there were definitely marks on both of their necks. She smiled to herself, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s shoulder, and tiptoed out of the room. 

~~~

When Anthony woke up, the first thing he thought was how comfortable he was. 

He opened his eyes, rubbing lazily to try and clear away the last remnants of sleep, and he realised that Y/n was lying with her back to him and he had wrapped an arm around her waist in an effort to meld their bodies into one. Their legs were tangled together under the duvet, his pyjama-clad ones mixed with her short-wearing ones, and it was no wonder he hadn’t been able to breath too well when he’d first woken up, because his face had been buried in her neck. 

Her neck. 

His eyes widened as he took in the state of her skin, littered in small marks (and one or two larger ones), and he knew that he would most likely be murdered when she woke up. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the memory of last night, though, and all the kisses they had shared. They hadn’t gone much further than that, both deciding it was far too early and far too risky in a house that was shared by most of her immediate family, but Anthony could have died a happy man after that. 

He wouldn’t, of course, because he’d promised her last night that he would live. 

He took note then of the two mugs of steaming tea on the bedside table, and realised that someone must have come in and placed them there not too long ago. Then he realised that whoever it had been had probably seen the hickeys on Y/n’s neck. “Shit,” he mumbled, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt to gather strength. It would be fine. Maybe they hadn’t been able to see clearly in the darkness of the room? But then again some of them were pretty large, and there wasn’t much chance of them being missed. Y/n was going to kill him. 

She was waking up now, he could tell from the way her breathing changed and her body shifted, and she stretched out her legs and twisted in his arms to face him. “Good morning, darling.”

“Mornin’ Schmoopie.”

“I thought that name was banned?”

“Banned for you. I can use it.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled into her forehead, pressing his lips to the skin in tiny kisses. “Did you sleep alright?” She hummed her assent, eyes still closed while she nestled further into him. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Best sleep I’ve had for a while.” It had felt like he’d blinked and gone from the after-effects of last night to waking up with her in his arms this morning. 

“That’s good. Can I smell tea?”

“Yes, although I don’t know who it was that brought it in; I was still asleep.”

“Probably Mum,” she said, groaning and sitting up. Anthony watched her for a moment, small smile on his face as he took in her sleepy expression, then followed suit. He went to say something, but the movement of his body sitting up had pulled the duvet away and down the bed, and all thoughts went out of his head. “Shit, it’s cold in here,” Y/n hissed, putting down the mug she’d just picked up in favour of wrapping the blankets back around her torso. She paused when she realised Anthony had frozen and gone red, and frowned at the face he was making. “Are you… alright? You look a bit… I dunno. Weird.”

“What? Oh, I’m…” he swallowed thickly and met her eyes, immediately looking away again and studying the wall opposite the bed. “I’m fine.”

“Okay… I’ll pass your tea over if you want it?”

“Thank you.” He still wasn’t looking at her, although he did remove his gaze from the wall to ensure he held the mug correctly, and a slightly awkward pause followed. 

“You didn’t put your top back on last night.” He heard her choke on her tea and pressed his hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean- I just- you-” he sighed, giving up on coming up with an excuse that would explain his previous statement. 

“Of course I didn’t put it back on, I was way too warm,” she said once she’d recovered. “Wait. Were you staring at my chest?” When he didn’t answer and instead kept his gaze fixed on the tea he held she let out a laugh. “You didn’t seem bothered last night by me not wearing a top.” Now it was his turn to choke, and he had to set down his mug before he spilled the liquid. When he finally turned to look at her she had a smug grin on her face, sipping her tea while she watched him with amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“That- that was different!”

“Different how?”

“I- you- it just was!” He wished the ground would swallow him up. Y/n snorted, taking a larger gulp of tea. 

“I’m teasing, Anthony. You don’t have to look so terrified.” He didn’t think she would ever let him live this down. He had just taken his first drink of tea when he heard her curse softly. “Ant?”

“Yeah?” He looked over at her, brows drawing together. “What is it?” She bit her lip, eyes focused on something below his face. “Y/n?”

“You, uh… you’ve got…” she gestured vaguely to his neck, hesitating a moment before touching a finger to the skin just above his collarbone. It hit him, then, what she was referring to. 

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you leave marks on my neck last night?”

“… yeah?”

“Well we’re in deep shit.”

“… why?”

“I… might have done the same…” he trailed off, his voice growing quieter with every word, and she could only stare at him. 

“Anthony.”

“Hmm?”

“Anthony. Please tell me you’re joking.” He didn’t say anything, instead taking another sip of his tea. “Anthony, if it was Mum that came in and did tea this morning then we are screwed because there is no way she didn’t see. Anthony answer me.”

“I’m not joking, sorry.” He couldn’t help but smile at her exasperated groan that followed, and he opened his mouth to speak again. “Although you didn’t seem bothered by me kissing your neck last night,” he said, using her earlier words against her. This time it was his turn to be smug, and he laughed when she lightly slapped his chest. “What? You rather enjoyed it from what I remember.”

“Your memory is wrong,” she grumbled, finishing off her tea. 

“I don’t think it is, darling, but whatever you say.” 

~~~

“Good morning love birds! Did you two sleep alright?” Emma chirped when Anthony and Y/n walked into the kitchen. She noted the slight flushed look to both of them (particularly Anthony who had gone a wonderful shade of pink that she didn’t think she’d seen before), and then the poor attempts at covering up the marks that decorated their necks. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you.” Y/n looked like a deer in headlights, sitting down on a bar stool and smiling when her father placed a plate of food in front of her. “Thanks,” she muttered, picking up a fork and digging in. Anthony was apparently dealing with everything a lot better than Y/n, already engaged in conversation with John and Sam about something while he entertained Tom at the same time. Emma was glad that he was here, especially given how stressful Steph and Linda were, and she could tell that her eldest daughter was far better off with him in her life. He really cared about her, most likely better than Emma ever had, and while it stung to think that he was doing the job that she should have done, she was happy that Y/n had someone that she lived with to rely on. 

“Are you sure, dear? You look quite tired, I don’t imagine you did much sleeping.” She did feel a little bit of remorse at her teasing, but it was too funny watching Y/n squirm in embarrassment while she tried to come up with something to say. Even Anthony was blushing now from his place on Y/n’s right. Besides, this was her first experience with being the Embarrassing Mother, and if she needed to she would explain herself to her daughter later. 

“Did you do tea rounds this morning?” Y/n blurted instead, her brow furrowing. 

“I did… where is this going?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s fine,” she said, entirely unconvincingly. 

“Right, well eat up. Anthony, I’m showing you the photo albums after breakfast!”

“Mum, please don’t, I can’t take any more of this,” pleaded Y/n, but Emma just chuckled. 

“I just want him to see some of the previous Christmases we’ve had!”

“Personally,” Anthony chimed in, “I would love to see the photo albums, Emma. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the morning.” His grin could only be described as shit-eating, and Emma loved it. 

She loved it even more when Y/n groaned and held her head in her hands. 

~~~

“And here- what was happening here? Oh yes, she’d managed to get her head stuck in the railings of the bannister, only three years old!”

“So you took a picture before helping your three year old daughter out of the bannisters?” Y/n asked her mother incredulously, not enjoying the way Anthony was studying every single photo of her as a baby. They had already been here for roughly forty minutes, and they weren’t even a third of the way through the album. 

“Well you don’t look too bothered, darling. In fact, you look like you’re having a whale of a time, look how big that smile is!”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, cuddling closer into his side. His laughter warmed her, and suddenly she didn’t mind so much that he was being promised copies of some of these photos. She knew that her mother knew about the marks on both of their necks, too, her suspicions confirmed after the whole fiasco at breakfast (there had been many more innuendos and exaggerated winks), but she didn’t mind that too much either. How could she, when Anthony was burning brighter than the sun right now, with his smile that lit up every room he walked into (or even walked past) and his easy charm? How could she be upset when he was sat so close to her, holding her to him so gently yet so tightly, as though he were afraid that at any moment she might disappear? 

No, she was happy. Not about the current photo of her with cake smushed all over her face and outfit at her friend’s 4th birthday party, but generally, she was happy. Steph and Linda were gone, Anthony was here, and in a few days they would be back home with Lucy, and George, and Holly too when she came over. 

For the first time in years, she was truly happy. And she could owe it all to Anthony Lockwood. 

part 12 (final part)

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters, @bobbys-not-that-small, @neewtmas (sticking you on just in case my lovely <3)

I don't think I'm missing anyone but there are so many people that I honestly can't say for sure, so if you want to be added to the tag list for the final part (and maybe... other... special posts... that might be written in the future... 👀), then let me know! <3

[lancermylove]

Chapter 2 (N.SFW)

➣ Pairing: Demon brothers, Royals, Solomon with fem!Reader. ➣ Warning: N.SFW ➣ Word Count: 2,868 ➣ Chapters [SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] ➣ Chapters [N.SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]

➣ A/N: The poll is still open, but looking at the percentage difference, most of you want a little spice to the story. The SFW version will have two routes: platonic and romantic. The N.SFW version will only be romantic, but the remaining story is the same for both versions. The SFW version is here.

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The first two days in the cabin were lively as the brothers explored the area nearby and enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere. All the while, Lucifer remained secluded in his room, occasionally venturing to the kitchen to get food. However, on the third day, they began to regret accepting your offer to stay in a secluded cabin. Though there was a large town several miles away, Lucifer had strictly restricted them from going to town, especially without your presence. The Avatar of Pride didn't want his brothers to cause chaos, let alone in the Human Realm.

Belphie lay on the couch, snuggled in a cream-colored faux fur throw. He was dozing off with his head on Beel's lap, who was busy munching on sweets, trying not to drop any crumbs on his twin's head. Mammon sunk further into a gray sofa chair, his eyes dully staring out the ceiling-height glass windows overlooking the mountain range. Satan sat by the fireplace and read a book about Christmas traditions in the human world. Asmo stood by the windows, posing and clicking selfies to share on Devilgram once he returned home. Levi had his face buried in his cell phone as he tried to figure out how to play a game you recommended.

You walked downstairs, wearing a white and blue unicorn onesie, but stopped when you saw the state of the living room. Were they bored already? It was only the third day, and they had to spend the entire month of December in the cabin. You felt a presence behind you and tilted your head back to find Lucifer studying his brothers with a lack of emotion on his visage. His piercing vermillion eyes shifted to you as if waiting for you to devise a solution to the crisis and find some entertainment for them.

'Why me?' You thought, looking back at the brothers. 'Is Lucifer punishing me for something?'

As you cautiously walked downstairs, you felt a sense of unease due to the tightly coiled structure of the staircase. You glanced casually at Satan and noticed the book in his hands. That's it! The entire reason you were there was to experience the way humans celebrated the month of December. You stood before the demons with a broad smile on your pink gloss-coated lips and excitedly announced your plan. "We don't need to wait for Christmas to do anything fun. We will celebrate the holidays traditionally, with decorations and all!"

Satan was the first to look at you and seemed happy about the idea, while the remainder of the brothers stared at you curiously, wondering what you had in mind.

"We need to...decorate the cabin's interior and exterior and need a Christmas tree. So someone to decorate, shop, pick a tree, and...oh, sweaters!" You said, laying your plan out. Your eyes briefly moved to Lucifer to see if he had any objections, but the eldest brother stared at you with his arms folded across his chest. Taking this as a sign of approval, you explained the rest of your plan in one breath. "Beel, you will find the perfect Christmas tree. Belphie, you can decorate the tree. Asmo, you can pick out the decorations since you are the best at shopping. Satan, you can decorate the inside of the cabin. Levi, we will go shopping for sweaters for the Christmas Day party. Mammon, you can decorate the outside of the cabin. I will help all of you while Lucifer oversees everything."

"Eh? So, I gotta freeze my behind off to decorate the outside while Lucifer does nothin'?" Mammon muttered under his breath with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "That ain't fair."

"That sounds like the perfect job for you, Mammon." Levi chuckled, but his lips quickly dropped when he realized his responsibility. "Y-You...want me to...go to a s-store with you? Can't we just use a service like Akuzon?"

"No! Shopping in person is part of the whole Christmas experience. Besides, I will be with you, so don't worry." You reassured him, brushing aside his unnecessary concern. "Asmo, let's go shopping today. The quicker we get the decorations, the faster we can start our celebrations."

Satan looked down at the book on his lap before returning his gaze to you and quietly asking, "Mind if I join you? Since I am decorating the interior, I can help pick out the decor."

"Sure! In that case, Beel, why don't you tag along? Satan might need help carrying all the bags. Oh, and there will be loads of food at the Christmas Market." You said playfully, purposely emphasizing the magic word - food. The Avatar of Gluttony forgot that Belphie had his head on his lap and stood up immediately, jolting his younger twin awake.

"Beel..." Belphie tiredly whined, to which Beel apologized, making everyone chuckle.

The holiday cheer was in the air, a buzz of activities filling the streets of the festive market. Tents and shops were loaded with holiday items, from bright lights and shiny ornaments to mouthwatering baked goods. The sound of live Christmas melodies could be heard in the distance toward the center of the market. Children chased each other around, their laughs echoing throughout the area, livening the market further. Asmo, Beel, and Satan scanned the market in awe, not expecting such a large amount of people there.

"It will be better if we split up so we can cover the market before night falls," Satan suggested, but before you could answer him, Beel walked away, drawn by the aroma of peppermint and chocolate. Without waiting for your response, Satan followed his younger brother to make sure he didn't cause any trouble. Taking the chance, Asmo grabbed your hand and pulled you to a nearby tent filled with shiny and glittery decorations.

"Sweetie, look at this." Asmodeus held up a charm bracelet with a small snowman with a red scarf and green Santa hat, a Christmas tree with colorful ornaments, a cartoon reindeer, and various colorful gifts. "It's so cute! Oh, and this is cute too."

You wanted to remind him that he was supposed to be shopping for Christmas decorations, but seeing his face lit up as his eyes danced from one piece of jewelry to another, you couldn't bring yourself to pull him away. You let him browse the store for a while before finally reminding him that they needed to buy decorations.

Even then, Asmo got distracted by a shop that sold sweets, and you couldn't blame him. As you stepped into the cozy tent, you were instantly enveloped in a heavenly aroma that tantalized your senses. The air was sweet and rich with the scent of freshly baked goodies. The sugary, buttery goodness mixed with the warm, spicy aroma of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate created an irresistible sensation. The subtle notes of spices made the smell even more alluring. Your eyes were drawn to the table overflowing with cakes, pastries, and winter-themed cookies, each one looking more delicious than the last. If Beel had been there, he would buy the entire bakery and devour everything in less than an hour.

As the two of you continued shopping, the sweet smell of sugary ginger tickled Asmo's nose. In the corner of the lively, bustling market, he noticed an elderly woman, who seemed out of place, standing in front of a small gingerbread stall. Her face was framed by long, tattered gray hair, and her weary eyes watched the people with little interest. The Avatar of Lust briefly glanced at you as you browsed through the Christmas tree ornaments before looking around the area. However, his gaze kept returning to the woman.

Leaving you to choose the ornaments, he slowly approached her with a warm smile, but his smile faltered when he looked into her emerald eyes. They seem distant, almost blank, as if life had drained the will and light out of her soul.

"Can I please get one gingerbread cookie?" Asmo sweetly asked.

The woman wordlessly wrapped the cookie in a paper napkin and handed it to him, almost hinting for him to leave her alone. Despite that, Asmo stayed put and took a small bite from the gingerbread man's right arm. His eyes widened as the layers of spices, creaminess, and sweetness exploded on his tongue, making him crave more.

"(Y/n)! Come here! You have to try this. " He called out to you. One bite and you were instantly in love with the soft, delectable treat and gave the elderly woman the widest grin possible.

"Ma'am, these are the most delicious gingerbread men I have ever tasted. I will take two bags, please." Hearing your compliment and seeing your reactions, the corners of her lips slightly twitched, but she remained silent. While the elderly lady bagged the treats for you, Asmo reached into one of the shopping bags and fished out a red box with a green satin bow.

"It is a little early to give a Christmas present, but this is for you." The Avatar of Lust handed her the box, but the lady refused, seeming embarrassed to accept the gift from a stranger. Asmo chuckled and gently pushed the box into her hands. "Please, I insist. Think of it as a gift from...someone who cares...like a gift from a stranger who is like your son."

Hearing those words, the woman's face softened, and her eyes filled with familiar grief and tears. Like a knife through her heart, his words brought back memories that she thought she had successfully suppressed. Both you and Asmo were taken aback at her sudden change in expression as you exchanged a look with him. Did Asmo say something he wasn't supposed to?

"A-Are you alright?" You concernedly asked. The woman nodded and quickly wiped the tears from her cheek with her trembling hand before displaying a gentle yet pained smile.

"You remind me of my son - such a sweet and gentle boy he was. Last year, he got into an accident and lost his life." The sweetness in her voice was overshadowed by the grief held in her heart. "Since then, I have been alone."

"Sorry," Asmo whispered as he lowered his head, feeling guilty for unintentionally digging up a painful memory.

"No, child. I cannot remember the last time someone showed me kindness. Thank you for the gift. I will treasure it." The elderly woman gently said, lifting the lid of the gift box. She briefly stared at the gingerbread man-shaped earrings, and in the next moment, her face brimmed with joy. A hearty laughter broke out from deep within her as if a heavy burden had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

Both you and Asmo felt the joy emitting from the woman, causing you to grin and giggle along with her. A warm sensation fluttered in Asmo's heart, something he had never experienced, but he couldn't make sense of it. With a gentle caress of her hand on his head, the aged lady warmly spoke, "May God bless you, dear child. I wish you an early Merry Christmas."

Asmo's expression shifted imperceptibly as the lady blessed him, but he quickly regained his composure and maintained his smile. Despite his reaction, Asmo understood that the lady meant no harm, but the thought of God blessing him sent a chill down his spine. Meanwhile, you pressed your lips firmly in a thin line to stop yourself from laughing at the ironic situation. As if drawn by the woman's laughter, Beel and Satan approached the stall. The fourth brother watched the interaction between the lady and Asmo with a curious expression, while the sixth brother was focused entirely on the cookies.

Without glancing at Beel, you handed him one of the bags you purchased from the woman. The instant he took one bite of the cookie, Beel asked her to pack all the treats for him, rendering the lady speechless.

"God bless all of you." She warmly said once again, causing Satan discomfort and Beel confusion. You pressed the back of your fingers to your lips to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Beel and Satan said their goodbyes and left, leaving you and Asmo to explore the enchanting night market. The market was illuminated by a dazzling display of Christmas lights, which adorned the cobblestone streets like shimmering stars in the night sky. The small shops lined the sidewalks looked even more inviting, with their warm, golden light spilling out into the street. The air was crisp and cool and carried a sense of tranquility as the snowflakes fell gently from the sky, blanketing everything in sight in a soft, white powder.

Asmo led you through the bustling crowds, the twinkling Christmas lights illuminating his pale orange eyes. Finally, he found a quiet spot and turned to face you, a mischievous sparkle in his gaze. He held out a white gift box with a deep blue ribbon neatly tied.

"This is an early present for you." He said with a playful wink.

A smile tugged on your lips as you carefully opened the box to reveal a custom glass Christmas tree ornament with a photo of you and Asmo. The image depicted a moment when he kissed your cheek, and you were blushing and laughing. Below the photo were beautifully calligraphed words that read:

Dear (y/n), I can't tell you how lucky I feel to have someone like you in my life. You always know how to cheer me up, and I can never thank you enough for always being there for me. I feel more beautiful when I am around you. I love you with all my heart! Lots of love, Asmo

Your cheeks burned bright, and tears stung your eyes as you read his message. You slowly lifted your head and met his gaze, not knowing how to express the swirl of emotions in your heart. The soft glow of the Christmas lights filled your eyes as Asmo stepped closed and enveloped you in a tender embrace. The chilliness of the night made the warmth of his body even more welcoming to you and only heightened your blush. For an instant, the world around you fell silent, leaving only the rhythmic beating of your hearts as Asmo leaned in, his movements almost languid, to tenderly brush his lips against yours.

As you pulled away from the kiss, you stared into his eyes, your gaze holding yearning and desire. Your heart skipped a few beats at the thought of what would happen next, and though you remembered you were in a public place, you didn't care. Being the Avatar of Lust, he instantly picked up on your signal, grabbed your hand, and dragged you away from there.

The market lights began to disappear as Asmo brought you to an empty alley, but it felt more like a secret spot for lovers to find. The quietness of the surroundings was slightly eerie, but you didn't have enough time to think about that as your lover connected his lips once more with yours, but this time with more intensity.

Time seemed to cease as Asmo's hands slid under your jacket and sweater, exploring the smooth surface of your skin. However, he was cautious not to expose too much of your skin to the chilly night air as he didn't want you to catch a cold. His touch gently followed the curves and valleys of your body until it eventually drifted inside your pants, causing a wave of goosebumps to ripple along your skin. Your lips were locked with his as your tongues danced in a captivating tango, both equally eager and enraptured by the sensation. His breath, along with yours, became deeper and heavier as the heat of the moment consumed your bodies and hearts.

Asmo's gentle touch against your folds made you shiver, each caress filling you with anticipation while your excitement reached a fever pitch. You squeezed your eyes shut and melted under his experienced touch as his fingers massaged your clitoris in a circular motion. Asmo was mindful of your surroundings and drank every moan that arose from your lips, not wanting to draw any attention to the alleyway. He didn't break away even when your moans made his head spin.

His index and right fingers slowly disappeared inside you, feeling as if they were being swallowed by a warm abyss. Their invasion left you weak in the knees and set your body on fire. Your insides tightly gripped his fingers, eagerly pulling them in deeper as a deep rumble of pleasure jolted through your heated body. With each movement of his hands, your wetness coated his fingers, and you inched closer to your edge. Asmo smiled on your lips, knowing well the delight he was giving you, but he had no plans of stopping until you were fully satisfied.

In a matter of minutes, you were in a state of euphoria. Your head spun with intense pleasure as your body trembled and your walls clamped down on Asmo's fingers. Pure bliss was all you felt. You couldn't have asked for a better ending to the perfect evening.

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➣  Please visit my website for the full masterlist!

[iamnot-crazy]

Stowaway Chapter 2

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Info: This is my first time posting a story on Tumblr and my first time writing a x reader.

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

A month has passed since you joined the crew and it has been the best month of your life. While the crew was extremely orderly and clean when the captain was around the moment he turned his back they turned into a silly band of pranksters. Despite the captain's serious nature, everyone knows he has the devilish personality of a prankster and retaliates with his pranks whenever one is enacted upon him but will deny it was ever him. 

You have solidified your role as the crew's therapist who everyone goes to when they need an ear which you are happy to lend. You haven't used your powers once on anyone unless it was for a medical reason in which you will put them to sleep so as far as everyone on board is aware your power is to make people fall asleep. You try to offer your ability to law whenever they are forming plans to take on enemies but he will only use it to put people to sleep to keep up with the illusions the crew have placed upon themselves. 

Law is also the only person who knows your secret so you continue to take showers in the dead of night to hide your tattoo until one day Law stood in your path. He stood right outside his office waiting for you to make your normal path to the shower room after everyone was asleep, "Why do you sneak off to the showers every night?" He asked when he spotted you. the glow from his office illuminated his figure but hid his facial expression. 

You paused startled at his appearance in the hall. "I uh like my peaceful showers." You lie looking away from him. 

He just hummed and gestured for you to follow him into his office to which you complied. His office was a mess covered with paperwork and opened books. You could barely find his desk under the stacks of books and the floor was not any clearer but had a path leading to the desk. He sat in his chair, "So are you going to tell me the truth?" he asked crossing his legs and putting his chin in his hands awaiting a response. 

"I have a mark I don't want anyone to see." You admitting. 

He nodded, "May I see?" You blushed the tattoo was on your hip and if you were to show him you would have to unzip your uniform and reveal more than you wished. "It's your slave mark isn't it?" He asked when he noticed you blushing. You nod but do not make any moves to reveal the mark. "Y/N I am a doctor I have seen a lot worse, can you show me?" 

Realizing your captain is correct and persistent you unzip your suit revealing your bra and unzip it down to your waist where the red tattoo was with a dot with three triangles around it sat on your hip. "A celestial dragon mark??" He commented reaching out for the tattoo with shock and horror. You flinched away at the words and went to cover it up. He looked up at your expression to see it shift to horror and your eyes become red. He is surprised no one else noticed your eyes shift color when feeling intense emotions like now but then again the rest of the crew probably isn't looking at your eyes as much as he does. 

"it's ok." he assured grabbing your waist and pulling you back, "He can't hurt you anymore." He pulled back the uniform looking at the tattoo again, "Do you want me to remove it?" 

You froze at the thought, You have seen other freed slaves cover their marks by burning the sun pirate logo over it but removing it you wanted nothing more than to be rid of your past. You looked over at your captain trembling while you nodded your head unable to get the words out. 

He grabbed your hand reassuringly and helped you zip your uniform back up while your arms shook, "Let's go to the medical room where it is a bit more sterile." He said and held your hand while he guided you to the medical room the place you crashed when you first boarded. He grabbed you by the hips and placed you on the medical table before turning to his tools. "get undressed while I get my supplies," he ordered with his back turned.

You shakily pull the zipper of your uniform down and leave it sitting just above your knees. You looked over at the tattoo and all the horrible memories it held until a hand was placed on top of it. The inky hand of your captain. "Do you want to hold my hand?" He asked still covering the tattoo with one hand and holding his other hand out for you which you placed your gloved hand into. "Your real hand." You shook your head knowing your current emotions were intense, "I can handle it, let me share it." He slipped off your glove before placing his hand into your own his eyes immediately filled with tears but he took a breath and sucked them in looking bravely into your eyes to inspire you to do the same.

Still holding your hand he cleans the tattoo with an alcohol wipe before saying, "Room," and you were surrounded by the blue dome of his devil fruit, "Scaple" He used his power to painlessly remove the ink that stained you skin, he kept repeating "Scaple" until there was no more red ink inside of you.

You looked down to see your bare skin and a wave of relief came over you, years of torture seemed to have vanished. You smiled widely with tears in your eyes as you met your captain's eyes who mimicked your expression with an unfitting smile. The most you have seen your captain smile is the devilish smirk he gives when he gains the upper hand in battle or a prank. Your smile turns into laughter at his face and his smile grows more. It wasn't until Law looked down at your bare body that you became flustered and quickly pulled your hand away, your eyes shifted Pink and your face turned red. 

Law instantly turned his face away from yours and turned around. "It's gone now you don't need to sneak off in the middle of the night just for a shower." He coughed keeping his face away as you zip your uniform back up and jumped off the table. 

You walk over to your captain place a small kiss on his cheek and whisper a thank you before walking out the room and to your bed. As you closed the door your back hit the wall and you looked down at your hand that flustered feeling was not your own you could tell. Your ability seemed to have evolved again and this time you could feel your captain's emotions and it was one of arousal.

In the medical room, Law sat with his head in his hands blushing tremendously. 

***

A week had passed and you and your captain didn't speak about the interaction again and he tried to avoid looking at you still trying to decipher if the feeling he had that night was his own.

The crewmates started to notice your comfort levels around them rising now taking showers in the morning still before everyone else had woken but no longer afraid of someone walking in. You also now change into your pajamas with Ikkaku instead of insisting on going to sleep in your uniform. And your fear of tearing your uniform during battle has decreased once you dodge a knife causing it to tear your uniform revealing your mid-drift but confidently continued to fight Law looked intensely at the bare skin where the tattoo was admiring his work as he would say.

But one con arrived with your new-found confidence and that is that you don't walk past Law's office every night allowing him to listen to the small pitter-patter of your steps. One night he was sitting at his desk staring at the door waiting to hear the pitter-patter that he knew would never come. He sighed closing his book ready to call it a night when he heard that familiar sound. the steps stopped at his door and was followed by a soft knock on the door. "Come in." He said as calmly as he could. The door opened slowly revealing you in the doorway. "y/n, how can I help you" he said pretending to be surprised that it was you who had entered.

"Something has been bothering me since the other night," You said walking into the room. Law heartrate jumped thinking you meant the feelings he shared that night.  

You walked in and shuffled some books out of the way of the floor so you could sit in the corner facing him, "How did you know that I was walking to the showers every night after everyone has gone to sleep?" you asked.

Law released a breath and his heart rate returned, "Because you would walk past my office every night."

"But sometimes I would go at 3 in the morning." You stated.

Law just shrugged, "And?"

You shook your head at the insomniac captain of yours, "When do you sleep I always see you at the bridge first thing in the morning."

Law sighed, "Sleeping does not come easy for me," He admitted. 

"Would you like me to help with that?" You asked.

Law shook his head, "I promised you that I would never ask you to use your powers." 

"For anything, I don't want to." You cut him off defiantly, "I want to help you with this."

Law's head snapped at you in surprise, he will admit he has been thinking about the day you calmed him with your powers for a while and that night he was able to get the best sleep he had since he was a child. He searched your eyes to see a beautiful purple of determination and conviction. He was not going to be able to change your mind. He sighed in defeat, "Feeling calm for once would be nice." 

You jumped up in celebration, you removed your glove to reveal the 5 dots shining a color grey and held it up which Law returned by placing his hand on top of yours and instantly relaxed his shoulders and felt the wave of calmness dance over him. You held your hand with him for a full minute to allow the full effects of your feel fruit to take over him and last through the night. 

When you removed your hand he took a deep relaxing breath looking up and smiling at you thankfully. "Thank you, Y/N. Let's go to bed." He got up and opened the door for the two of you turning off the lights. He placed his hand on your back as he guided you back to the bunks thanking you once more before turning to head toward his room where he fell on his bed and immediately fell asleep with no thought swarming his brain. 

The next morning the entire crew noticed their captain in a happier state giving everyone a day off on the beach of the island they just landed on. No one questioned it and quickly took advantage of their day of play. The crew decided to sport the swimwear that they picked up at the last town they went to and have a fun beach day. Law could not keep his eyes off you confidently revealing your stomach.

***

Next Chapter

[cannedapricot]

midnight bus. || hrj

in which as much as renjun denies ever caring about you, he can't help but notice the twitch in your eye when you receive your test marks, the smile that doesn't seem to quite reach your eyes when praised by your principal, and the lack of smart remarks when he scores a single point higher. something was wrong, and it was driving him insane. alternatively, two kids ponder about their futures on a late night bus ride because neither of them can drive.

word count: 2.7k

genre, warnings: angst (?), slice of life, some fluff, comfort (?), academic rivals to lovers, high school!au, neighbor!au, teenage uncertainties uttered and lost between tall buildings and lights, profanities, trespassing

bgm: ghost city tokyo by ayase, overdose by natori, cinema by vivid bad squad, you're on your own kid by taylor swift

a/n: i just finished reading this book of mine and i am in absolute shambles.

Renjun's eyes narrow, squinting at you across the hall. He could clearly see the principal congratulating you on the debate club's latest win, yet, you weren't puffing your chest out in pride like usual.

If this was any normal day in the past five years of your unnamed war for valedictorian, you would've thanked the principal and skipped right up to Renjun with a smug smirk on your face. If this was any normal day he would've rolled his eyes at you and told you that "arguing for climate change isn't a useful skill".

Evidently, this wasn't a normal day. Something's off. You bid goodbye to the principal and shuffle right past Renjun. No snide comment, no shit eating grin, nothing to acknowledge him.

Now, Renjun would much rather jump off a ten meter platform than admit to care for you, but weeks pass by and your usual spark never returned. It wasn't like he needed your attention or anything.

But it was driving him nuts.

Grade 6. 11 years old. Renjun meets you for the first time. You showed up to the first day of class in bright yellow suspenders, it was hard not to notice you. Renjun thought the two of you would make great friends. After all, his surname did mean yellow.

He changed his mind after you scored higher than him in math. No one scored higher than him in math. He would've let it slide if it were just math, but you had scored higher in everything except art. To top it off, when he made the off comment about it you said,

"Oh, it's not like it was hard."

And from that day on, he decided that you were his biggest rival and his life goal would be to knock you off your high perch.

Somewhere along the line, you had caught onto Renjun's hostility towards you. It was so amusing watching him get ticked off at your smug comments, how could you stop making them? So you decided that your life goal would be to never let Renjun know peace.

This rivalry, of course, bled into high school and where the two of you stood in present time. Senior year, AP classes, volunteer work, college entrance preparation, the future.

Oh, the future.

"Y/n, can we get a friend discount?"

"No."

A sigh escapes your mouth. Friday night, 8pm. Family-run diner packed to the brim with teenagers celebrating their football win against the school across town. Clad in the retro diner uniform your mom insisted on, you glide across the floor back behind the counter to yell whatever the table of jocks ordered to the kitchen.

"Busy night huh?"

You rest your head on your mom's shoulder, a habit you've had since childhood.

"Sometimes I wish our diner was less popular."

"Now that wouldn't be great for business," Your mom laughs in response to your childish grumble. "You'll learn to enjoy it once you take over."

The family business that's been passed down for decades. The future that's been decided for you before you were even conceived. You've known that your whole life, yet, for some reason, you weren't sure about it.

Your response should've been much more enthusiastic. But all you could manage was a quiet "I know" before turning to bring the cheerleaders their curly fries.

Renjun thinks he's finally lost it. What other explanation could there be to him staring across the fence from his bedroom window to yours. Your light was on, so you were home. But from the shadows moving around he could tell you weren't at your desk preparing for class like usual.

Renjun thinks he's finally gone bonkers. What other explanation could there be to his inability to focus on his four page essay for AP literature. He was usually good at cranking out fancy words and analysis. But for some reason, he found his mind somewhere else.

Renjun thinks he's finally gone deranged. What other explanation could there be to him climbing out his window (his parents could never know), jumping the fence, and standing under yours. A few well aimed twig throws at your glass was enough for you to stick your head out in confusion.

"Renjun what the hell?"

"Come out. We're going for a ride."

So you begrudgingly close your window and look for a coat to wear over your pajamas.

And for the record, Renjun isn't a stalker. Just a neighbor.

"You know, when you said "we're going for a ride", I kind of thought you meant in a car? As in, car ride?"

"And risk my life for you? No way. We're taking the bus."

11:45pm. You were following Renjun as he sped walked through the quiet residential neighborhood. The two of you passed multiple bus stops along the way but none of them had buses running at this hour.

"Just say you can't drive." You scoff, trying to keep up with the boy in front.

"Well, neither can you. With your brains, I thought you would've breezed the driving test."

"Touché."

The bus arrived at 12am sharp. The bus stop was a fifteen minute walk away from your houses and the two of you barely got on, eyes squinted at the sudden neon lights of the bus interior. The bus driver, a woman in her late forties you presume, audibly clicks her tongue at the sight of you both. You don't blame her, you would probably do the same if you were still working at midnight.

You find a seat in the back half of the bus as to give the lady some peace (though she chooses to put on headphones anyway). Renjun sits in the seat on the other side, though the seats were made for two and there was definitely no one sitting next to you. An awkward silence fills the air as the bus heaves into motion, taking the two of you somewhere unknown.

It was kind of relaxing, you thought. Watching streetlamps pass by in a flash, hearing the faint tune of ABBA songs leaking through the driver's headphones, feeling the bus rumble underneath your body. It was almost like you were running away.

"So... What's up with you," Your neighbor awkwardly begins. "I noticed you weren't really yourself lately."

"Aw, does somebody care about me?"

Renjun never thought that hearing the familiar mocking tone that was the bane of his existence would be so comforting. You were still there. You hadn't changed.

"In your dreams." He hides his smile in his palm and keeps his eyes on the scenery passing by, "Unfortunate for me, living next door to you makes me notice things I don't care for."

His eyes slowly move to check on you when you don't say anything. You sat back in your seat, a long hum as a response.

"I don't know."

"The fuck you mean you don't know-"

"Do you ever feel unsure of the future?"

Renjun's sharp retort was cut short. He was caught off guard by your question. You refuse to look at him, making sure your head was turned to face the glass.

"My family expects me to do one thing but maybe... that's not what I want to do, y'know?"

Honestly, you don't know what's possessed you. Why were you spilling your feelings out to your sworn rival? What if he uses this as blackmail or something?

"I get it."

That's all he says. No mockery in his voice, no teasing to be seen. You look over to find Renjun looking at you with a soft gaze. As if you were something extremely precious to him. So you can't help but reveal more to the boy looking at you so gently.

"The world is so big and I'm not sure if being tied down to the family diner is something I want. Like, I know I'll be disappointing my parents but I don't think that's the future I want."

"Then don't."

"Wow! You're so smart! Why didn't I think of that?" You reply sarcastically. You shouldn't be grinning. But you couldn't help it.

"Thanks. I'm the future valedictorian." Renjun smirks, turning his eyes back outside.

"As if. That's my title."

You continue whining about your parents expectations and plans for you and the diner after college. It was a lot but Renjun didn't once complain. He just sat on the other side of the bus, listening.

A weight had been lifted off your heart. Who knew you could be such a whiner? The conversation dims down as the warm colored streetlamps turn into fluorescent ones. You notice the buildings turn into grey skyscrapers and the bus was suddenly making its way into the bustling city.

You turn your head in awe at the sights. Truth be told, you don't make many trips into town, always too busy in your little suburb with whatever activity to add onto your college application. Which is why you almost miss Renjun's words.

"I want to go to art school."

It was a quiet murmur. Nearly drowned out by the bus engine and the honks of city cars.

"I thought your dream was med school?" You weren't poking fun, you genuinely thought Renjun was aiming to be a doctor. Your entire grade did. He scoffs.

"That's my parents' dream. They want the entire family to be in the medical field. It doesn't matter what we want." Renjun's eyes are facing the window, yet, they weren't focused on anything at all.

"Well, I think you'd do great in art school. You're always great at anything artsy." You admit, fidgeting with your coat. He raises his eyebrow and looks at you.

"You noticed?"

"It's hard to miss when you make the best pieces in the whole school. And I remember "Singin' in the Rain" in middle school. You're extremely talented at singing too."

Renjun can't help the smile that blooms on his face.

"You remember."

"Uh, yeah? You literally had a standing ovation."

Renjun never thought you would remember or pay attention to any of that about him. For some strange reason, his heart skipped a beat and he turns back to the window to hide his reddening cheeks.

"Last stop. Get off."

The bus driver said, promptly leaving the second the two of you step off.

"Why is the last stop at a seven eleven?"

"That is kind of weird. Do you think she just kicked us off because she got tired of our bitching?"

You both giggle before stepping into the convenience store. The cashier spares an uninterested glance, then returns the attention back to his phone.

Weaving in and out of the aisles and nearly slipping on some unknown liquid on the tile, Renjun picks out a packet of Haribo bears while you fill a cup of big gulp, nose scrunching up upon touching the sticky machine. Upon exiting the store and leaving the uninterested cashier behind, Renjun tells you he knows a place the two of you could go to share your goods.

"Though we're going to have to break some rules getting there. Think you're up for that, top student?"

"Why of course, second top student."

You had no idea breaking some rules entailed sneaking past the sleeping security guard and jumping over some barriers in a paid car park building. How did Renjun even know this?

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if we get caught." Renjun winks, "and I know for a fact they don't check the cameras regularly."

Renjun holds out his hand for support. You take it and jump off a small ledge. You admit, it was exhilarating. And was your heart beating because of the adrenaline, or was it Renjun's hand that he didn't pull away, even after you landed.

"We're here."

Renjun opens the door and reveals the rooftop parking lot. The air was cold against your flushed face and the empty space seven floors up made you feel like you were floating amongst the grey jungle. You run out, stretching your arms before lying on your back, not caring about how dirty the ground was. You felt free.

"I don't want to make 9pm coffees for the book club ladies for the rest of my life!" You yell into the open air.

Your partner in crime (literally) laughs before joining you on the cold concrete.

"Well, well. Look how far the top student has fallen. How would the principal feel knowing you've trespassed."

You roll your eyes, a stupid smile etched on your face. Placing down your icy drink, you turn your body to face the boy.

"I could say the same about you. Aren't you runner up for valedictorian? After me, of course."

"Actually, I'm number one contender." He responds, turning to mirror your position.

Oh.

The two of you were closer than expected. Lying on a dirty parking lot floor, noses almost touching.

Oh.

His eyes flit down to your lips.

You cough awkwardly before sitting up, red in the face.

"Do you want to try some of my drink?"

"Yeah, okay."

He silently sips on the drink. Though it was cold, it couldn't calm his burning ears down.

A few hours pass. The two of you spent that time stargazing, talking about whatever on your minds, and exchanging shy touches.

"Do you believe in aliens?"

"Uh, yeah I do. Space is massive - I doubt humans are the only intelligent life form out there."

Except all good things must come to an end. Come 3am, the two of you tread back to the seven eleven, hoping a bus would be there to take you home.

"Do you think the guy's still at the register?"

"Probably. I snuck a look at his phone earlier. I think he's been caught cheating."

The pair of you snicker and a bus rolls up. The doors open to reveal the same driver you had coming over.

"Lovebirds on their way home now, eh?"

"What? We're- we're not-"

"Oh give up. I've seen enough of you to know what's going on. Are you two getting on or not."

With matching red faces, you and Renjun board the bus. Except this time, he sits next to you, not on the other side.

"You're awful at drawing." Renjun laughs. Your attempt at drawing him on cold window cries a little, the condensation dripping where you touched it.

"Yeah, well. There's a reason you're always top of art."

He smiles, reaching past you to draw his version of you. It looked much better than whatever you drew and you were never the one to let him win. So you destroyed both drawings with one swipe of your palm.

"Sore loser."

"Cry about it."

Arm in arm, you walked home together at the same pace. Renjun slowing down so he'd match your comfortable speed. You'd never thought you would ever leave the house, spend time with your rival, only to come back with some weird tension between the two of you.

Renjun sends you to your doorstep and you turn to him.

"Thanks for cheering me up. It really helped."

"Don't worry about it. I also ended up getting stuff off my chest too."

Then he cracks the cutest smile and you couldn't stop yourself.

You kissed him.

On the cheek. You weren't ready for the lip on lip thing just yet.

"I'll see you Monday then." You hurriedly mutter, rushing inside to hide your embarrassment and to avoid seeing his reaction.

"Yeah. Monday." Renjun whispers into the night, a soft smile on his face.

EPILOUGE

"Renjun, you've got to start cleaning up your paint pots."

Your boyfriend looks up from his easel, eyes sparkling realizing it was you.

"You're home early!"

It was a couple of years later. Renjun was perusing his art career after having a thorough talk with his family (it took a few months), which explained the apartment-studio thing going on.

You came clean to yours about not wanting to take over the diner. Though you expected them to look at you in disappointment, they didn't. All they said was that they were proud of you for dreaming.

And now, you were sharing an apartment with the love of your life (who was currently covered in paint), once rival (you are now also covered in paint. He gave you a massive hug and a welcome home kiss).

[tic-toc-clock77]

Tw//Familial Abuse, bullying, slight mentions/implied SA, mentions of physical abuse and neglect, Suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation

Clockwork is an incredibly frequent insomniac; because she was abused by literally every person in her family, she always had to keep her guard up and that included sleep.

She'd fall asleep in class the next day after pulling an all nighter but her bullies would throw things at her to wake her up. She had to find a very secretive spot during lunch and recesses to sleep which landed her in a bathroom stall by herself most times but of course, the bullies found her there too.

School wasn't safe, home wasn't safe. She had nowhere to go, she knew if she went home she'd be attacked one way or another. If it wasn't being hit in the face with a beer bottle by father, her brother would be breaking the lock she placed on her room that she always had to repair herself. She knew she had to go somewhere but where could she go?

"They'd be happier if I disappeared." She thought bitterly, 2 blocks down from her home. It took her a millisecond to take off running as far away as she could get from that place. She didn't have to get hit, she didn't have to get her cries ignored, her insides wouldn't hurt every morning, even if just for a moment, she could be safe and happy. She was going to take that chance.

Late at night, Natalie found at herself at a park with her drawing book and pens in her hands. The hood of the 11 year olds green jacket was up so nobody would notice her. Her pen scratched the paper as she disembodied limbs and organs spewing out of each hole. There was something freeing about it, taking that pain she'd been forced into and making something out of it.

Sure, the girls at school had found her drawing books once and pasted all the images around school, having written things on them such as "NATALIE'S A FREAK!" In large letters across her art but she paid no mind when she was here. Feeling at peace, at long last, she wanted to find a place to sleep but that dream was dashed when the police cars that'd been circling the area finally caught wind of her.

"There you are, Ms. Ouellette." An officer stated, Natalie hid her book in her bag and began to back up. "Now don't run but I'm afraid your time is up out here. I need to take you back to your parents." Natalie was defeated. She wanted to kick and scream but she knew if she evaded this any longer, the beating would only be worse so she stepped toward the man in the car and got led to the back seat.

Finally home, she stood in front of the door nervously and watched her father fuming from the window to the living room. Her eyebrows immediately furrowed in anger at the man as she pushed the door open, ready to get it over with and gone. "I'm back!" She yelled, her father's attention immediately turning to her. He yanked her by the arm and she prepared but when the first hit landed.

"Clockeye?" Clockwork turned on her side to look up at the face that held the familiar gash and she raised her hand to graze it. "You looked like you were having a nightmare so I woke you up." Toby smiled, placing his hand on her hair. "Oh, uh, yeah. Just some bad memories coming back up." She sits up, letting herself rest on his shoulder.

"You okay with telling me about it?"

"....Maybe not now."

"Alright."

Toby plants a small kiss to her temple and she smiles, resting more comfortably against him.

She felt rested at long last.

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @nanashi23

Who You Are:

Eon || They/them

I am an ancient hermit living in the suburban deserts of Colorado. Before becoming a hermit, I've did time in the publishing industry, but mostly greasing wheels, not the fun stuff.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Action, adventure, comedy, contemporary, drama, fantasy, horror, paranormal, psychological, sci-fi, thriller, and tragedy. New adult and adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Science and Speculative fiction. As a queer person in the ADHD propaganda generation, something needs to remind people there is still hope, anger and passion in the world and that experiences cannot be commodified.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Mystery, because I just feel like I am not smart enough to make it mysterious. YA because I'm not sure how. Younger children's books because… I like to say fuck. : )

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

Lost, lonely, angry people who like space queers and the occasional jackass. Yes, I think people will get it, especially if they just walk in expecting a good time and not a world shaking adventure.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

Apparently hope? The more I read my own writing the more I realize I write about 9/11, culture wars, fighting against an enemy everyone thinks is dead because 'you won' some arbitrary battle. Tropes are hard for me because I am old. Disaster duos are my favorite one that I can say for sure.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

Very little turns me off - especially if done with taste.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

Second book of what might end up being a trilogy. Book is called Starrender, coupled to Silvermoon. I started writing it in 2021. Book 2 I started in May of 2022.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

Creativity is compulsory, is my understanding of it. "I just work here," is how I describe it to other writers. I wish I could explain, but for me it's… therapy, escape, fun, joy. What keeps me writing? Me.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

This is a hard question because I have written as long as I can remember. What first drew me too it? See the above answer. Creativity feels compulsory. I have hyperfantasia, my day dreams are vivid, strong and indulgent.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

The easiest answer to this is dreams. My current set started as a dream and was fleshed out with my co-author. Something brand new, shiny. It's evolved a lot beyond that, especially since that dream was from 2013. Other inspiration comes from spite, I suppose? Did I write a trans wizard novel for obvious reasons? Yes. I still haven't made peace with that decision though, I wish I had spent that year working on something I loved more.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

The one I'm publishing in March 2023 - Terms of Light. Above all other things, I feel like it's a love letter to myself and to my spouse. It took me so long to find what home should feel like and I think this really embodies that journey.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

Yes - and yes. Self published Terms of Light (March 2023). I have been querying and trying to hook an agent since 2013 - no luck so far.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

Trad pub - A marketing team. Self pub - control Both - A physical book in my hands and the ability to hand a book to someone. It's a strange phenomena but when you tell people you have been published and aren't able to hand them a physical book, they get strange. They've done whole studies about it. The perception of something available as free is lesser, even if the content and quality is not. I truly don't care about the money, I care about accessibility to stories that might not make it because they're not "on brand." (Read in 2014, LGBTQ+)

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

Writing is appealing to me. I love it. I hate editing. I don't know why, but much like I dislike revisiting shows, books and other media I've visited before, editing has the same kind of yuck to it. Trying to get over that.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

Process is not something I think I would call what I have but… Since most start as a dream, I have a Dream Theater folder. Outline usually comes with the initial brain dump, and by outline I do me, high level, not too detailed vagaries about what's happening, cool things, and notes and thoughts. From there, I wait for a first line to hit me and… write until I'm out of steam. I can usually rock out the first 10 - 14 chapters of something in a month to two months depending on how hot the writing fever is… the middle slog does take it's toll on me. After Draft 1 is done, I force it on some poor alpha reader, and come back in a year when I'm potentially ready to edit it. Editing is it's own thing. I have no process for this, I don't know if I ever will.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

About a year. @winterandwords inspired me, I'm in a Discord server with her and she told me it was "better now."

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@winterandwords - Because they are an absolute delight. They write everything I've always wanted too and it is a visual and emotional FEAST in my mind. @sergeantnarwhalwrites - That guy rocks, what an encouraging soul! With a great sense of humor. Delightful. No idea how I found them, but glad I did.

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

Interaction!! Even if it's light, it's nice to see some things get notes. I feel less alone, even though I am also able to control my experience a bit more so I'm not inundated with activity.

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

This is a hard one because… short of having more time in everyone's day to read and respond, I don't think things can be improved with what we have.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I react, I reblog, I respond when I can. I follow writers that have the same vibe and try and lift them up when I see they may not be doing great. Can I do more? Sure. If I had the emotional energy and time.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Writing. Publishing info.

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

Any kind. I'm not particular. I usually do snips, reblogs of fun things as well as writing things, and of course, a little bit of SJW nonsense - because it's Tumblr. Ya gotta.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

Anymore? No where. Twitter disappeared as soon as I started having privacy concerns. I'm building a website but… I'm a slacker ; ). TBC.

[sojutrait]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

ty for the tag my brother @literalite and fellow fnafer @gunthermunch

1. are you named after anyone? my first and middle name are both a play on my older brothers’

2. when was the last time you cried? ngl i don’t remember but it was probably some time this week while listening to my playlists

3. do you have kids? naur god forbid

4. do you use sarcasm a lot? not anymore bc it reminds me of my middle school cringe era 😭😭 the few times i do now i do it in a very obviously lighthearted way

5. what sports do you play/have you played? volleyball and dancing in the past but now i’m in my running and lifting era

6. what's the first thing you notice about other people? height. if i have to look extremely down or up to look at you i will notice

7. eye colour? v dark brown, basically black dkrkdk

8. scary movies or happy endings? scary movies but finding a good scary movie is like finding a needle in a haystack

9. any special talents? there’s sm shit i’ve randomly memorized out of boredom. off the top of my head there’s the entire periodic table, every book of the bible, every state in the united states, and the first 100 numbers of pi. so i have a pretty good memory for dumb shit

10. where were you born? another dimension. a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. a journey into a wondrous land of imagination (the south)

11. what are your hobbies? outside of simblring, i workout occasionally, play card games (i am a master of solitaire) complain on twitter and go feed the ducks around my local pond. oh and youtube args

12. do you have any pets? boy do i. 3 dogs, a cat, a fuckton of snakes and i used to have a lizard may he rest in peace

13. how tall are you? 5’5 ehe

14. fave subject in school? art history and biology

15. dream job? museum job or any job in the art world where i can get rich and party and get paid for it

i tag @orphyd @castawavy @itsmariejanel @sadnesshotline @cheesehair @okruee @leafrue @cowplant-pizza @cas-fulleditmode @moodnamars @homophobictrait

[mathlann]

1, 11, 28, 42, and B for Casimira? Sorry for sending so many, there's so much I want to know 👀

From this ask meme. Thank you! Ask and you shall receive lol.

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Answered here!

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

She's a seek clarification type of lady. Cas will not have herself looking stupid because she made an assumption she shouldn't have. With anything genuinely important she'll make sure both parties in the conversation agree on what is being asked and what she plans to do before she does it. The exception to this is Marazhai because he will maybe let her get one question in and still won't give a straight answer 80% of the time, so in that case if she still doesn't know by Dodge Answer #2 she just goes with it until she can read whatever cue he's giving. It never ends up being that much of a problem but also he's generally not in charge of stuff like "trade routes" and "making sure the colonies don't implode" so his exception is allowable.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 

She prefers the unpleasant truth. A lie has a high chance of making fools out of everyone involved but an unpleasant truth can at least be worked around and come to something better. Duly note that she is a bit of a hypocrite on this, because she herself is okay with lying if she thinks there's no consequences to it, like telling Heinrix she didn't know anything about the sword shards. And when the need comes for her to approach a difficult topic she will internally grind her teeth and drag her feet to avoid the conversation until something forces her hand.

42. How badly do they want to reach their end goal? 

Her end goal here being: "make the Protectorate less chaotic and get the dynasty under the control," greatly. Cas has never had a great opinion of off-worlders in general and Imperium nobility in particular and so frankly everything that happened after her arrival on Theodora's flagship was a reinforcement of all her biases. Between Theodora's neglect and Calcazar's scheming, Cas hasn't had a peaceful night since she left Iocanthos because there's just so much she needs to do, fix one problem and five more spring up. But if she can actually get things back into some kind of working order her way that will make all the difference (and stick it to a political entity that she very much dislikes, so a mighty bonus).

B. What inspired you to create them?

Oh that's a long and convoluted answer. In short I'd say she's an amalgamation of a lot of character concepts that I've played with off an on since I got the original Rogue Trader TTRPG book a decade or so ago. The CRPG is quite different from any of the FFG 40k games but Casimira being A) high Fellowship, B) Xenos-friendly, and C) probably from Iocanthos (a favorite from Dark Heresy) were going to be givens for me. I'm always looking to play high charisma PCs in general and I also really like having characters that are from the outskirts of Imperium society in some way. Also just for the general concept I'd just finished Catherynne M. Valente's Palimpsest, and I'll say the Casimira in that book is very much her vibe (alone and in parts of her romance w Marazhai) in ways I didn't know when I first grabbed the name off of her.

The rest under the cut because it's long 😅

Mechanically, since Psyker (my usual preference) wasn't fully implemented in EA, the original Cas in EA/first half-playthrough was a Death World/Commissar/Operative (conceptually similar to how I see her older sister actually). That Casimira was more genuinely "good person" Iconoclastic, which didn't quite fit what I was going for but also I didn't really know how the Iconoclast/Heretic split was going to go at the time. This Cas was practical, had some Dogmatic moments, and generally was approaching her role as Rogue Trader by trying to be a decent person/"benevolent noble" more often than not.

Then Yremeryss kicked my ass back to Act 1 and Cas was remade as a Hiver/Noble/Officer, both for the Fellowship bonuses and because at that point I'd decided Marazhai was the one for her and frankly "You. Serve Me." being the Noble's key ability was, uh, fitting for their dynamic. That Cas was going to be from Scintilla, and I made her a bit more spoiled, callous, and scheme-y, very into crime and other light heresies because she's very sure of her power as Rogue Trader and the right to do what she wants.

The current Xenoheretical, actively Anti-Imperium, Chaos dabbler Casimira emerged partway through that playthrough. She became Iocanthan again, an envoy this time, and Hiver still fit with the nomadic background. She got some of her old altruism back but it was more out of pragmatism than genuine feeling and could be overridden if she felt wronged or that her immediate want had a greater benefit. Also her being nominally a Noble but unable to meet the proper expectations of how she should act (according to Imperium standards) became a bigger part of her arc, one that ended up resulting in the Great Heinrix Divorce Arc and her darker turn with Marazhai in the second half of the game. And with all that, the Casimira I have today!

(Honorable mention vibe-wise, Bizet's Carmen, and specifically this performance of "Ramparts of Seville" conceptually influenced quite a bit of how I see her and Heinrix in that they definitely fit the "uptight man married to his job meets a mezzo soprano and they are not compatible and won't end up together but boy will they wreck his fucking life with the time they've got" genre 🤫)

[queen-scribbles]

oooh how about 9 and/or 11 for AJ? your choice if she's with Nate or Adam ;3

9. listening to the other's heartbeat [AJ/Nate] (11 is here with Adam) This is somewhere post-book 3 and definitely pushes toward spicy.

---

It was good, in their line of work, to take peaceful moments when you could get them.

And it didn't get much more peaceful than this one, right here. Abigail smiled, half asleep, as she ran her fingers through Nate's hair. Usually when they cuddled she wound up using him as a pillow, but the reverse was equally grand, she had to admit. The comfortable weight of his head on her chest, arms loosely around her waist, breathing deep and steady like he was about to fall asleep...

She gave a small, contented sigh and traced her fingers along the shell of his ear, down his jaw, then resumed running her fingers through his hair. Lazy, repetitive strokes, nails just grazing his scalp.

Nate made a sound almost like her cat used to upon finding a particularly glorious sunbeam. "I don't think I'll be moving all day..." he mumbled, tipping his head to brush kiss against her chest, just above the neckline of her cami.

Abigail bit her lip, toes curling. "Me, neither. Good thing we have it off, yeah?"

"Mm." He brushed another kiss, light as butterfly wings, just next to the first. "What are you thinking about, ya rouhi?"

"A few things." She hummed as a third kiss followed. "That this is so perfect I'm almost worried I'm dreamin'..."

"Don't say that, we'll wake up," Nate laughed softly.

He matching laugh cut off as the fourth kiss fell in line with the hollow of her throat, her fingers clenching. "...how much I love your hair, it's so soft, and it looks grand grown out..."

He chuckled and continued feathering kisses against her skin. "Noted."

"...an' if you're tryin' t' kiss all m'freckles, it might take a bit longer than an eternity, yeah?"

"For you, AJ, I have that time and more." He reached the far edge of her neckline and shifted slightly higher to start working his way back across with languid kisses to her collarbone punctuating the rest of his words. "And I am a very... patient... man."

"Nate..." Abigail exhaled a shuddering breath and bit her lip, heart hammering in her chest. "Your- Your turn, a chuisle." She ran her fingers through his hair. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"You," Nate replied without hesitation, lifting his head to meet her gaze. The flitters of sunlight turned his brown eyes almost golden and she didn't think she'd seen a more beautiful sight. "How happy I am with you. Content. Settled."

She smiled and reached to smooth a lock of hair hanging in his eyes. "Y' definitely seemed 'bout ready to drift off a moment ago."

"Your heartbeat makes a very soothing lullaby, Abigail." Smug mischief filled his eyes and he dipped his head to kiss the hollow of her throat. "Usually."

Abigail bit her lip harder, arching slightly as her fingers slid through his hair to clench at the nape. "Are you tryin' to fluster me, Agent Sewell?"

Nate chuckled against her skin and she was sure the effect on her heartbeat would deepen that smug look of his. "Now, Agent Jenings, why on earth would I do something like that?"

Her breath caught as he started kissing up her throat. "I... I can think of a few reasons--" A gasping whine when he reached the corner of her jaw. "Nate..."

He lifted his head, giving her a dazzling faux-innocent smile. "Yes, Abigail?"

She didn't so much nudge as yank him in for a kiss by the hand clenched in his hair.

Nate hummed in equal want, equal need as he leaned into it. One arm pressed against the bed, the other hand cradling her jaw, thumb brushing gentle arcs on her cheek.

Abigail's free hand roamed, clutching handfuls of his t-shirt, his arm, before pushing against the mattress to lever herself up until Nate caught on and let her roll them to reversed positions.

Her hair hung in a fiery curtain around them when she finally pulled back. "I love you."

"And I love you," Nate murmured, tucking one side of her hair behind her ear, but leaving the other as a divider from the world.

She leaned close to whisper, "How's my heartbeat now, a chuisle?"

"Intoxicating," he breathed, the single word hitching with challenge, with want, with something deeper. His fingers teased under the hem of her top, sending a shiver up her back.

"Yeah?" Abigail murmured, pressing a kiss just in front of his ear. With her hand braced on his chest in their new position, she could feel the equally madcap rush of his heart, and had to agree with him. It was a heady feeling, knowing you could do that to someone.

"Am I wrong?" His teasing was still slightly breathless as he toyed with her curls.

"Far from it." She kissed the corner of his jaw, felt his heart skip a beat, and it was her turn to smile smugly as she kissed down his jawline. One consequence of vampire superhealing was she couldn't give him hickeys like he occasionally littered across her skin, which was horribly unfair but didn't stop her from trying. She detoured to kiss the juncture of his jaw and neck.

"Ya rouhi-" The words cut off on a gasp. "AJ."

She lifted her head and gave him a faux-innocent smile of her own. "Yes, Nate?"

He stared at her for a moment, lips parted as if about to speak, then pulled her in for a deep, crushing kiss and rolled them back to their original position. "You are a marvel." Kissed her again. "A wonder." Kissed the hollow of her throat, her fingers back in his hair. "Everything." Kissed right at the neckline of her cami and she'd suddenly never wanted to remove an article of clothing more.

A far cry from the peaceful languor of a few minutes ago, but you wouldn't hear her complaining, not in a million years.

As if he'd read her thoughts, Nate slid up the lower edge of her shirt to kiss her stomach.

Abigail whined, arching into it as he ran his mouth along the edge of her ribcage, feathering kissed over her freckles. "Nate-!"

She dragged him up into another kiss; desperate, fierce, even as, by unspoken accord, they each pulled at the other's shirt. They broke the kiss for only a moment to discard the garments before Nate's fingers were tangled in her hair and Abigail's were clutching the back of his neck, drawing each other in for more--

And more, and more, until she was clinging to him and shaking like a leaf in a storm, mouth open in a near-silent cry of his name while he tried--and failed--to muffle his of hers against her neck.

They all but melted back into the pillows, a heap of contentment, panting breaths, and pounding hearts.

Nate gave a breathless laugh." Well, that was..."

"Grand," Abigail finished, slipping one hand between her chin and his chest. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely," he said with a wide smile, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "And now, I think we get to the resting part of our plan that was so delightfully" --he ran his fingers down and back up her spine with a touch so light it made her shiver--"interrupted."

"Also grand," she murmured. He did make a wonderful pillow and she could feel herself drifting. She kissed the center of his chest and settled with his heartbeat in her ear.

As it slowed, she had to agree with his earlier sentiment--that did make a very soothing lullaby.