#i don’t want to say TOO much or get too many hopes up :’)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18

Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.

“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.

Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.

He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.

Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.

“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”

It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.

“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”

“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.

“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.

“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.

It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.

But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.

“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.

Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.

It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.

Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.

Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.

“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.

Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.

He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”

***

Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.

He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.

Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.

“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”

Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.

“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.

Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.

“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.

“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.

“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”

Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”

Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.

“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”

A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”

“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.

“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”

Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”

Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”

And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.

Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.

“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”

“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”

“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”

“Coming from you?”

“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters.

Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”

Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.

Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.

Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.

“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”

Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”

At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.

For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”

As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”

“I know.”

Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.

“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”

***

Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.

It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.

He’s never buying popcorn again.

But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.

It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.

He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.

But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.

He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.

It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”

Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.

By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.

“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.

Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”

The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.

“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.

It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.

He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.

“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”

Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.

“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.

Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”

Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.

Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”

“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.

   Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐

   First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”

“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.

And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.

It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist. 

Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.

Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”

“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.

Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.

“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.

“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.

“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.

He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.

“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.

“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.

Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”

“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.

“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.

When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.

“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.

“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.

PART 20

[usomads]

Can you write one where reader is being bratty gets punished by Roman and Jey?

Tag Team // Roman Reigns x Jey Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> Lordddd, I had so much fun writing this 🤭 I decided to experiment a lil bit with this one so I hope y'all enjoy! Happy reading!

Plot -> You had an idea to get the attention of the two cousins, but what you ended up getting was far better than you’d ever imagined…

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Jey Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Choking, Threesome, Spanking, Restraints, Unprotected P in V, Double Penetration, Double Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

“Where. The. Fuck. Are. You. Y/N,” Joe gritted through his teeth, his phone on speaker so Josh could hear. “You’re supposed to be here. You know the other two aren’t cleared, Paul’s missing, so we fuckin’ need you at ringside for this tag match. Now where are you?”

“Calm down, hot stuff, I’m getting ready right now,” you teased hearing Joe and Josh groan in frustration. “I’ll get there when I wanna get there, mmkay? You both need me, I don’t need you. So I’ll show up whenever I please.” Your history with the Bloodline was a complicated one, especially between the Tribal Chief and his former Right Hand Man. You had crossed paths every once in a while, the group knowing that keeping one of the most dominant women’s wrestlers in the company in their back pocket did them many favors, and you knowing the other girls in the locker room wouldn’t get any ideas and try to step to you and your WWE Women’s Championship. It was a mutual partnership, a transactional endeavor, and good business. 

You hear the phone shuffling a bit before hearing Josh speak up. “Aye, uce. Ion know what’s got into you, but you better watch who the fuck you talkin’ to like that.” “Make me. Oh wait, you can’t.” You laughed mockingly into the speaker. “Y/N, if you don’t-” “Shut the fuck up, Josh,” Joe growled, “and you too, Miss Y/N. Treading on thin ice, baby girl, you gon’ fuck around and find out if you ain’t careful. Now get your ass here, right now, ‘fore me and Josh gotta step in. Got it?”

“Oh no, I’m so scared… c’mon Joe, you can do better than that.” Joe went to respond but not before you hung up on him, putting your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ before walking through security and making your way to wardrobe to pick up your new gear and get ready for the night. You hadn’t told the two, but you were wearing new gear. You usually wore black with silver or gold accents, but tonight you wanted to switch it up, by wearing their usual color- red. You were handed your bottoms and top, unfolding them and holding them out to look. It wasn’t anything flashy, both the bottoms and top were black with sheer and leather sections, but what stood out was the droplet outlines filled in with red stones to give the illusion of blood. You hurriedly ran to change, excited to see what it looked like and you weren’t disappointed. The droplet details were stunning, the bottoms and top fit the contours of your body perfectly, the mix of leather and sheer gave you an edgy but sexy look; needless to say you looked hot. And you could not wait to see Joe and Josh’s reactions. 

The two of them never could quite hide their attraction to you. Between Joe raking his eyes up and down your body as you spoke to him and Josh taking every opportunity he could to stare at your ass, you had known for a while that they had ‘not-so innocent’ intentions with you, and you were dying to provoke them into action. You had given subtle hints over the past few weeks and all failed, which meant you had to step it up big time. If talking back to them and being there at ringside wearing practically nothing wasn’t gonna do it, you didn't know what would. You finished touching your makeup and hair and thanked them for their help as you went to gorilla position, getting there right after Jey and Roman entered for their match so you weren’t seen by them. They finally made it to the ring and stared down Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa, and the ref starts the match. Right after he does, you make your entrance and hear the crowd roar for you. Joe, who is on the apron as the non-legal man, sees you saunter your way to ringside and his expression turns dark. You make it to the ring, leaning on the apron as you rest your weight on your elbows, right next to Joe. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Joe whispers at you, his eyes watching the light reflect off the bedazzled droplets on your top. “What?” You smile at him innocently, “I said I’d be here, so I’m here.” “Wearing th-, you know what? We’ll talk about this later.” Josh looks up and notices you, eyes widening as he takes in the revealing gear you’re wearing. He makes eye contact with Joe, who nods at him. Josh comes to the corner Joe is standing at to rest for a moment, and to talk to the two of you. “Oh, look who decided to show up, and what the fuck you wearing?” Josh muttered loud enough for you and Joe to hear. “I’m trying something new. What, you don’t like it?” You look up at him and bat your lashes, teasingly shaking your ass much to the crowd's enjoyment. His eyes flicker briefly to watch, before settling back to your face and giving a look of warning. “Hey!” Joe snaps at the two of you, “we got a fuckin’ match to worry about. We’ll deal with this shit later, ight?” You and Josh nod and Joe slaps Josh on the shoulder, tagging himself in. You use this moment to make your way over to Tonga Loa and Tama Tonga’s side of the ring, swaying your hips as you walk. You feel eyes, Josh’s eyes, staring a hole into your backside and smirk, engaging with the crowd as you do so. You grab Tonga’s attention almost immediately, getting him down from the apron and taking him over to the announce table, which you sit down on and allow him to stand between your legs. Your distraction is working, as Josh and Joe are imposing their will on Tama and setting him up for a finisher. They hit Tama with it and end the match, but their eyes are trained on you as you have your arms around Tonga’s neck and let him touch your thighs and hips right in front of them. They exit the ring and pull him off of you, beating him down outside the ring while you sneak off and race out of the arena before they can get to you first.

Somehow you made it to your hotel before they realized you were missing, but as soon as they did, the pair immediately started blowing your phone up. Calls, texts, voice messages, you name it, they were doing it. You had never seen Joe or Josh this upset before, and it turned you on so much. You were laid in bed, the oversized t-shirt you were wearing riding up as you rubbed your pussy through your panties thinking about how hot they looked while fuming at you during the match. Your actions are interrupted by a loud rapping at the door, and you know exactly who it is. “Y/N, we know you’re in there. Open the fuckin’ door. Now.” Josh demanded on the other side of the door. You peeked through the peephole at them both, feeling a fuzzy feeling in your stomach knowing your plan was working. 

Joe ushered Josh to the side, pulling out his wallet. “It’s alright, uce. We gave her a chance. If she wants to play games…” he pulls out a card, “she’s gon’ learn that we can play ‘em just a little bit better,” he slides the card into the keycard slot, and the lock buzzes to unlock the door. Shit. How the fuck-

You back away as the door slams open, the two men barging into your hotel room. Your eyes widen at their abrupt entrance, but have no time to think about it as Josh grabs you by the throat and pushes your back to the wall. “You think you can play with us, huh? You think you’re cute ‘n shit, talkin’ back to us, walkin’ out and sittin’ ringside basically butt ass naked, and then…” he squeezes your throat, making your head fall back as you groan, “you make us watch while another motherfucker puts his hands on you?” You whimper at his touch, not trusting your own voice as he asks you a question. “Oh, what’s the matter, princess, you were talkin’ like such a big girl earlier and now you can’t fuckin’ speak? Huh?”

“Answer him, Y/N, he’s not gon’ ask you again.” Joe demanded. “B-because,” you breathed in, opening your eyes to stare directly into Josh’s as you spoke, “I wanted t-to see what y-you two would do about it.” You smirked at Josh, his eyes somehow darkening even more and growling under his breath. “Uce, whatchu think?” Josh asked the man behind him, who had been staring you down this entire exchange. “Ion know ‘bout you, but if you ain’t gon’ do somethin’ ‘bout her then I wi-”

“Yo, slow down,” Joe puts a hand on Josh’s shoulder, pulling him away and taking his place as he lifts your chin. “You wanna act like a fuckin’ brat, Y/N? Talkin’ back to me, ignoring my calls, walkin’ around with your tits and ass showing through your gear like we wouldn’t notice? Baby girl, you want us, you fuckin’ got us. And we gon’ make sure you lose that fuckin’ attitude.” He growled.

“Oh yeah?” You raised your eyebrows at him, “I’d like to see you try.” 

Joe, without warning, takes you by the wrist and sits in the chair near your bed and strips you of your shirt, leaving you in just your panties. He bends you over his knee to reveal your round ass, kneading the soft skin and making you whimper in response to him. “Nah, nah, nah. You ain’t gon’ start whinin’ now, you wanna be a bad girl? You gon’ get treated like one. Now count, mess up imma start all the way over. Understand?” 

“Yes… yes, Daddy,” you breathed out. Joe moans at the name and delivers the first slap to your ass, and you wince. “1…” he delivers another, the pain fading into pleasure with each one, “2…” he rubs the skin of your ass cheeks as your wetness begins to soak through your panties and onto his joggers. 

“Oh, you love this shit, don’t you? Such a fuckin’ slut for me, dripping on me like that,” you moan louder as he delivers another slap, continuing your count. “You want Josh to have his turn first? Let him fuck you then when he’s done he’ll pass you to me? Is that what you want?” He delivers another smack to your ass. “5… f-fuck yes, please.” He gets through another 5 spankings, you keeping count and crying out for each one. Your ass is sore and definitely red, but Joe lifts you off of him and you slowly walk over to Josh, who is standing at the foot of the bed in just his boxers. Joe leans back in the chair and palms himself as he watches you two, Josh pushing you down to your knees so you can suck his dick. You remove him from his boxers and immediately get to work, hollowing your cheeks around him as you take him further and further down your throat. Josh throws his head back and grabs your hair, letting you work his cock in your mouth as he moans your name. Your head bobs up and down, picking up the pace with his moans encouraging you to keep going. He gets lost in the pure pleasure you’re providing and begins thrusting into your mouth, fucking it as the movement of your head meets his thrusts. You have tears streaming down your face as you take him inch by inch, feeling him twitch in your throat and gagging around him. He releases himself from your mouth. 

“Hands and knees, ma. On the bed.” You stand and climb onto the mattress as he smacks your ass, you moaning at the contact. Josh gets behind you and removes your thong, slowly dragging it off of your body as he takes in your glistening pussy. “Fuck, uce, she’s fuckin’ drippin f’us. He leans down and licks through your folds, letting his tongue massage you at a fast pace, you moaning his name in response. He eats you for a moment, giving Joe a show as you writhe at the hands of him and his mouth on your aching pussy. Once he sees you’re ready for him he stops what he’s doing, taking his cock and rubbing along your entrance, mixing his pre-cum with your wetness before slamming into you and grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail. The quick snap of his hips makes you cry out as he fucks you deep. Tears are again pricking at your eyes, as you grab the sheets and scream his name. Josh smacks your ass again as he pounds into you, hitting your spot with ease. Your body begins to shake as you inch closer to your orgasm, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. “O-oh fuck, mmm, I’m s-so close. Please-”

“Yo, uce, you think she deserve that shit?” Josh asks Joe as he continues to slam into you. You look over at Joe, who is pumping his cock watching you. He thinks for a moment, before responding. “Not yet,” you whine as he continues, “bring her over here, lemme get her real quick.” Josh obeys, pulling out of you and helping you up, walking you to where Joe sat. You stood before him, fully exposed. “Turn around f’me, and put your hands behind your back.” You hesitate but oblige as Joe grabs his belt from the armrest and creates makeshift handcuffs around your wrists, tightening them so you can’t escape. He then turns you around and pulls you down to make you eye level with his cock. You take him in your hands and wrap your lips around his tip, looking up at him as you suck on it and bring your head lower on his dick, forcing you to choke on it. “Fuck, ma, get up here. Sit on my lap, babygirl.” He helps you up and moves you to straddle him, guiding you to sink down on him, and you hear him talking to Josh. “C’mere, uce, and get behind her. Y/N,” he looked at you, “you ever take two dicks at once?” You shake your head ‘no’, and he gives Josh a smirk before responding, “well, today’s your lucky day, babygirl.” And with that Josh arches your back to lift your ass in the air and slowly pushes his way into it. You don’t even have the words to describe this feeling. You feel full, and like you’re seconds away from being ripped in half. The two men begin slow thrusts inside of you and you can barely take it, it feels so good. They begin to pick up their rhythm and you begin bouncing to it, the three of you letting out a chorus of moans as you fuck each other. The three of you find your rhythm, allowing yourselves to speed up and hit deeper than before. Joe pulls you by the neck and your lips connect in a sloppy kiss, both of you moaning into each others’ mouths as you fight for dominance over each other. 

“Fuck, Y/N, so goddamn tight. Squeezin’ my shit. I- I’m close, baby. Want me to fill your ass up full of my cum? Hmm?” Josh moans and you nod frantically. “F-fuckkk yes, please, babyyyy. Need it so fuckin’ bad, cum for me..” Josh’s dick twitches inside of you at your words as he fills you up, riding it out before he pulls out and steps back. Joe lifts you by the thighs, still bottomed out inside your pussy, and lays you on the mattress on your back, lifting your legs and placing them on his shoulders. He leans his body weight over you and drills your pussy, fucking you hard enough for you to see stars and grip the sheets as tight as you can. You’re screaming Joe’s name as he grunts in your ear. “Holy s-shittt, Joe, I’m gonna-” “Hold it. You learn your lesson, huh? You gon’ be good for us from now on? No more of that bratty ass shit?” “Y-yes, I- I’ll be good, please, Joe, I-” “Go ‘head baby, I’m there. Cum all over this cock f’me. Let Josh see your pretty face as you let go.” Josh leans down and kisses you hard, full of passion as he slips his tongue in your mouth. Josh’s lips on your is the catalyst, reaching your peak as your body tenses and convulses as you let go. Joe follows suit, filling your pussy full of his cum as he continues to fuck you through both of your orgasms. He pulls out, catching his breath and laying on the bed with you and Josh now. Silence fills the air as the three of you stare at the ceiling, catching your breath until you speak up.

“Wow, that was, um…”

“Holy shit, that was insane,” Josh said, the three of you chuckling. “You got no idea how long we been wantin’ to do that shit witchu.”

“So.. you’re saying I should piss y’all off more often if I want that again? Shit, I can definitely make that happen.” You settle in between the two men, too sore to move any other way as Joe turns off the lights and the three of you drift off to sleep together.

[heartfullofleeches]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY TODAY🎉🎉🎉🎉 I was wondering how my favorites would wish me a happy birthday, Tobi, the cafe, host, static, the supernatural harem and the fast food, if that’s too many you can shorten it but I really wanted to have some of my favorite characters from my favorite writer congratulate me on my special day! BTW I’m the one who sent the Prince leash ask, I don’t know if you got it but I accidentally did it anonymously

(The Cafe was a bit too much for me to get this out to you the same day, but I hope you like this regardless! On the bright side, I did get your Prince ask and am working on that too. Happy birthday, chief!)

Tobi:

Has never had a birthday himself, but they know what they are and their significance to humans other regular people. Tobi's the kind of guy to surprise you with presents year round, but as your birthday rolls around they keep items you've had your eye on in their back pocket to gift you on your big day.

Its too embarrassing for them to give you in person, but Tobi creates a collage of all their favorite pictures of you to put up somewhere in your bedroom. Tobi loves baking and cooking so a homemade breakfast, dinner, and your treat of choice would be on the top of their list of surprises for you.

Host:

"Looks like it's a special someone's birthday- Those only come around once a year, you know? If - that's how you want it, anyway."

That time already? Time is a tricky thing for Host to wrap his head around. He could've sworn the last one was just yesterday. It hardly matters. Everyday could be your birthday- Contenstants come and go, but you'll always be his star.

That would, of course, wear the novelty of it all thin. Host is more than happy saving the pinnacle of his gratitude for you as his co-host for that one day. That day's contestants better be too if they want to leave with all the parts they came with intact.

Which is his funny way of saying they won't get any cake.

Static:

"Happy birthday to you.... Happy birthday to you...."

Hunts for every variety of birthday song they can find to serenade you with the second daylight bleeds into your room. Static's disappears predating your birthday can swiftly be explained by the trinkets they bring you, majority centered around the shows and movies you've watched together it knows you adore most.

They'd attempt to rope you into another movie night with you in full control of the remote since it's their favorite way to bond with you - and it's optimal cuddle time.

Supernatural Harem:

"Baron, must you make everything a challenge?"

"Piss off! I left enough room for you two to put your names on the cake.... Maddox more importantly than you, but still."

"We appreciate the consideration, but... Where are we supposed to write "happy birthday"?"

Nothing like waking up on your big day to your Demon husband roommate swearing today will be the day he slaughters your Angel husband roommate. Luckily, your Grim Reaper spouse roommate has the expertise to ķeep you soothed until things cool over long enough for all of them to prepare breakfast for you.

Baron stalks you around to shower you with mandatory birthday kisses- only to get pouty when he's done before noon and continues well past the age you're turning. You'll be older than all three of them by the time he's through.

Maddox, as usual, fills their journal with sketches of you to unveil at the end of the day. Their art skills is the only thing they're proud of in themselves and monetary possessions don't hit quite the mark they're trying to reach when it comes to presents they like to give. If you're a gamer/a fan of stuffed animals they'll pick up a couple so they can use them when you're away and they miss you.

The first birthday you celebrate with Alasdair has to be one to remember. He's watched you from the sidelines for years and now it's finally his chance to do what he's always wanted. It may be a tad selfish of him in hindsight, but he'll pull you aside the day before or after to enjoy a relaxing evening with just the two of you.

Fast Food:

"Code C! I repeat, Coqde C - The clown is loose!"

Birthday? Well you can't expect to have a celebration without the designated party planner, can you? As everyone closes up the restaurant early to commemorate your big day, Twister hoovers over the crew to insure everything goes swimming. The Janitor follows behind it with their trusty spray bottle to keep the clown in check - its the only excuse they have not to give their present to you by hand because they're too embarrassed.

The bathroom Succubus would insist on you opening her gifts to you first - if a certain goat wouldn't pout over it all day as a result. The ballpit hands shower you with all the shiny items lost in their depths. The Storyteller reads you the tale of someone who's birthday happens to fall on the same day - where nothing bad occurs and the universe smiles kindly in their favor.

The ice cream machine ghost whispers in the ears of customers they'd better wish you a happy birthday or be prepared to have dairy filled nightmares

[sunnylucy31]

Some asks I got for these in discord, reposting my answers here:

Pierce is on the spectrum, though she does a good job of masking most of the time (until you get her talking about her special interest which is stars and astrology (fun fact she can tell your star sign just by looking at you, very useful power)).

Frieda has BPD, and she handles it by not handling it (that is, she bottles up everything related to it, The Queen must not show weakness to subordinates). Her people don’t say her name and only refer to her as “the queen” out of respect, but a large part of her believes it’s because they disapprove of her (RSD will have you making logical leaps like that, it’s a bitch).

20. Frieda is often jealous of how tight knit her peoples’ bonds with each other are; as the queen she’s often excluded from that since everyone else puts her on a pedestal (as noted previously, they refer to her by title rather than name). More specifically she’s jealous of Hunter’s ongoing thing with Siren, as she’s been yearning for his attention for years and never received it (not in the way she wants, anyway). Again, she handles this by bottling it up, as the queen cannot be distracted by such trivial emotions. Good thing glass bottles are famously sturdy, this practice will surely continue to be a sound one.

If Maya is jealous of anything, it’s her peers’ ability to be content with tedium. With a perfect memory, she’s painfully aware of how much repetition the average day has, but her fellows don’t seem to notice, or if they do, don’t seem to care. Hell, some of them appear to find comfort in the routine, the normalcy. She attempts to shake this feeling off, but like everything else in her flawless recall, she can never entirely put it away.

25. My favorite aspects of both are going to be the angsty parts because apparently I’m a sadist.

For Frieda it’s the dehumanization. The Titans made her to be a living weapon. The gods branded her as an abomination for existing. And her own people turned her into a martyr, a Messiah figure that could prop up their fragile hopes. At no point does Frieda get to be Frieda; She’s Zero, or Priority Target One, or The Queen. Max will be the first person to treat her as human in a long time, and that’s going to be a profound moment for her that I really look forward to.

For Maya it’s going to be exploring all the detriments to a flawless memory and how the human psyche wasn’t meant to handle having that sort of ability. Imagine every mistake you’ve ever made, every abuse you’ve suffered, every pain you’ve felt, as crystal clear in your mind as the moment it happened. How do you heal? How do you move on? I do so love a good “your great power is really a curse” trope.

Frieda certainly wouldn’t think she could get away with it. Tenet Two of the demititans’ code is to do no willful harm against a fellow demititan, and to her mind she isn’t above the code. Her people on the other hand would feel differently. As I said above, they’ve turned her into their Messiah; all their hopes for survival rest in her. While it would be a deeply unsettling event for many, they’d find some way to justify it if only to keep her at the forefront, to keep her trying to save them.

4. Frieda’s innate instinct when scared is to freeze, followed by flee. Years of training have embedded a fight response in her, but part of her still feels the urge to run and hide when shit gets scary.

9. “Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along.” -Terry Pratchett

19. Rage makes Frieda’s calm and collected queenly mask fall away entirely. It’s the one emotion she’s never had much practice at containing, so when it comes out, it really comes out. Violence is basically a guarantee at that point.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

[dakota1435]

Moonlight – Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

word count: 2K (short)

tags: mention of violence

previous fics here! x

Chapter 8

You don’t dare to draw a single breath. Those who were originally looking now turned away, knowing this was Sylus’ business now. For a second, it felt like time was frozen. Nobody moves, even Sylus. Caleb was going to get himself killed, all because he came to ‘save’ you. You still didn’t understand how he knew you’d be here, with Sylus. How he even knew somebody like Sylus in the first place. You exhale shakily, trying to calm your nerves. Your lips part, about to speak, before Caleb inserts himself. Not good!

“What have you done to her?” There’s emphasis on each word, through gritted teeth. Never in your life have you seen this side of Caleb. Despite Sylus’ overwhelming presence, Caleb doesn’t back down on his death glare.

“To think someone like you came all the way here…You must have quite the confidence to take what’s mine?” Sylus said, his voice calm and collected. You could feel the pressure of his hand on you tighten a bit. Internally, he must be seething. 

“She’s not yours!” Caleb yelled back, uncaring for the situation unfolding. You had to say something, you had to get him out of here. Out of every possible outcome, it would be the best course of action. Caleb looks at you, hesitant. 

“Um…Caleb…Please. You should leave,” you beckoned, your hands shaking by your side. Your voice doesn’t feel as strong as theirs. Clearing your throat, you speak again. “Caleb. I’ve been safe. I promise.” You hope he takes you seriously. He looks at you, astonished, before returning to the same angered expression. 

“He’s brainwashed you! He’s bit you, hasn't he? After all these years of protecting you, I am not going to give up. He’s been trying to find you this whole time.” Caleb doesn’t give you a chance to react before he speaks again. “He’s a monster. He’s trying to turn you into a monster, too. Listen, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I haven’t told you. But trust me when I say–”

“You have a lot of nerve to stand in front of me. The only reason you’re still breathing is because of her. I suggest you leave, now, before I do something about it,” Sylus warned Caleb, his grasp feeling tighter on you. Oh, he was definitely angry now. Caleb’s words ring in your head, making you question too many things. But no matter how it made you dizzy, you had to do damage control now before there was bloodshed. Seeing how Caleb is now, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to fight Sylus. Worst of all, you knew Sylus would win against a human within the blink of an eye. 

“Stop!” You called out, the first thing you could think of. You turn to look back at Sylus. His eyes glared and his expression troubled. “Let’s leave,” you muttered to him. Your face pleaded you didn’t want to experience another moment of this. Even if it meant leaving Caleb, again. Forever, this time you’re sure. It broke your heart, but there was nothing else that could be done. Caleb heard your words, his mouth open with shock. He doesn’t say anything. Sylus calms himself at your words, removing his hand on you. 

“Very well,” he said, his voice rather curt. He leans down close to your ear, his eyes still burning onto Caleb. “Hold tight.” He wraps his hand around your waist. You spare Caleb another look before Sylus takes you, vanishing within a second. 

For a moment, you thought you saw Caleb reach out. It was too late. 

As quick as disappearing, you and Sylus arrive back at his estate with ease. But the event, the entirety of tonight, made you feel sick. You hunch over, for fear of actually getting sick. Your mind and everything around you spins uncontrollably. How? Why? Why?

“Sylus…” You began speaking. A part of you was afraid to meet his eyes. Was he angry? Did he think you knew about Caleb coming? Your mind suddenly recalled Caleb’s words; he’s been looking for you. 

He rests his heavy hand onto your back. It felt…supportive. “It seems I can’t let this kitten out of my sight,” he said, his tone amused. You were relieved he didn’t sound angry anymore, but it still didn’t put you at ease. Your dress was uncomfortable now, your jewelry feeling heavy. The choker around your neck felt suffocating. When you didn't respond immediately, Sylus spoke again. “Are you hurt?” 

“No…I just…I don’t understand anything right now,” you said quietly. Your face flushes with heat and suddenly you feel like you could cry. You couldn’t recognize your own emotions and it made you feel like a foreigner in your own body. You still don’t look at Sylus, hesitant to show him such raw emotion. You begin to walk away, expecting Sylus to stop you. But he doesn’t, instead he watches you go to your room. You change, the weight of tonight’s clothes bearing the turmoil of what happened. Slipping into something more loose and comfortable, you decide you will ask Sylus your questions. You leave the room and expect Sylus to be in his dining room. As you walk, you try to gather the questions in your head. You won’t let him be vague this time, because there’s something definitely going on. 

You push open the heavy doors of the room, finding Sylus gazing out of his massive window. He couldn’t be more beautiful in the moonlight, but he doesn’t turn at your arrival.

“We need to talk,” you said with newfound confidence. You needed answers. Your heart raced, never speaking to Sylus in this way before. 

“Oh? What about?” He still stared at the window. You figured he was still irritated over Caleb. You sigh, walking over to him as he sits in his large leather chair. He glances up at you, something playful in his face flickers for a moment. He liked seeing you stand before him. 

“I need answers. Caleb said you have been looking for me forever. I asked you if you were the reason I was put up at auction and you said no!” Your voice raises, frustration bubbling inside of you. Whatever feelings you had that you buried were now coming alive. You didn’t like it, you didn’t feel like yourself. Sylus cocks an eyebrow, surprised at your energy. 

“I don’t lie like mortals do,” he sneered, “I have been looking for you, yes. I only found you because of the auction. I had no part in any of it.” He still stares at you from his chair, watching you unfold. That familiar feeling of pressure forms in your face again, tears urging in your eyes. It was almost equally embarrassing and frustrating. 

“How does Caleb know you?” You clenched your fists, trying to control your emotions. 

“I don’t know him personally. I know he’s been with you since you were a child. My name is everywhere, though. It does not surprise me,” he said, matter-of-fact. He was starting to be vague again, the one thing you were not going to let him do. He notices your hand tightly closed and gently touches your hand with the back of his fingers. You started to question everything, you backed away from his touch. He didn’t like that. “I was going to ease you into things, but it looks like that man ruined it,” he said, sounding disgusted. He waits for your reaction for a second, then grabs your wrist. “Sit. You will want to sit for this.” You don’t protest as he pulls you into his lap. You adjust, sitting comfortably. He strokes your cheek, tenderly, as if to prepare for what’s to come. 

“He is right; I have been looking for you. He’s done a very good job at hiding you, until recently.” Sylus hold on you is possessive. He speaks slowly, letting each word sink into your mind. “That man was against your former profession, wasn’t he? He could no longer keep you away. You’ve wanted to know the unknown, haven’t you?” Sylus was right. Caleb was like your brother, but easily overbearing. When you took on your new job, going on missions, he was unsupportive. Little did you know that Caleb knew Sylus would get 

you. 

“Why…” is all you could mutter out. Your life from the start felt like a lie, and you weren’t sure what to believe. Your eyes said it all. 

Sylus wears a troubled expression. “I don’t expect you to believe me. Trust me when I say I do not lie.” He takes a breath, making you nervous. “Long ago, there was an experimental research factory. They discovered aether cores and used human subjects, as young as five.” 

          He pauses, his words slow and concise. Your stomach churns, as your brain tries to fill in the gaps.

        “I was one of their subjects. They were cruel, and inhumane. They wanted to create a human with power, strength. Countless humans died and I happened to be the one to survive. I came out, exceeding their expectations. They made me an artificial vampire, whether that was their only goal or not, I survived.” The silence after his words were heavy, almost deafening. You continued to listen as hearing Sylus speak of himself was rare. “I was unstable, uncontrollable. I escaped, leaving myself to the horrors of the new world. The organization of vampires knew about these experiments—them being heavily against it. They found me and made me who I am today.”

“What about the research facility?” You questioned. Your mind thought about all of the possible pain and torture Sylus went through, at such a young age too. 

“Nobody, including myself, would predict my capabilities. I was stronger than a human, yes, but found myself to be more powerful than a pureblooded vampire. I took that power and ascended. I returned to the facility, knowing they still continued with their research. I single handedly killed every member of that facility and burned their notes.” Sylus stares at his fingertips, as if reminiscing the blood stains. “There were only a few human subjects this time. Two of them were beyond saving, but there was one human left; you.” He gently touches your side, his comfort minimal but it kept you in reality. 

Upon hearing this, you couldn’t believe it but deep down in your gut you knew Sylus was telling the truth. If you were standing, your knees would’ve fallen weak. You run your hands through your face and hair, making sure you are still real. That, all of your entire life, was real. When Sylus stopped speaking, you could hear your heartbeat drum in your ears. You could tell Sylus was still trying to ease you into it all, trying not to overwhelm you, but you were already at that point. 

“…Tell me everything,” you said, voice muffled as you lay your face in your hands. 

“You were the youngest subject they ever had; you were born with an aethor core inside of you. You grew up in the lab healthy, alive. It seemed that you weren’t displaying any change but before I did anything, the lab was raided by government officials. I withdrew, immediately knowing you would be taken somewhere better,” he explained. He clenches his jaw as his eyes burn into yours. 

Your world was cracking around you and you felt heavy with confusion. Your brain tried remembering a shred of anything, any form of memory or feeling of being at a lab. You were raised by your grandmother until she passed, and your older childhood friend Caleb was around after that. How could it be possible? The same thing that created Sylus was buried in you, somewhere. The same thing that made him desire blood and crush anything in his way. The thought of all of it made you tremble out of fear and anxiety. 

“...You have been monitored by government officials your whole life. They feared I would come back to finish you off, but I have been searching for you because we are the same. I want to show you the potential you have, not those selfish fools.” Sylus strokes his hand down your hair tenderly and his actions ground you to reality.

Everything is falling out from your feet, your brain scattered with anxious thoughts– answers you’ll never know. It’s too much, too much, too much.

We are the same.

[rypnami]

summoning you

characters: leander prewett x house neutral gn!mc word count: 1991 warnings: none! summary: after losing one too many rounds of summoner's court to them, leander becomes suspicious of MC's alleged skill at the game. a/n: for @selenedarling, i LOVED your prompt! i hope you like! this wasn't beta-read but its fine we ball!! ao3 link

“Oh, not again.” MC stomps their foot in frustration as their blue ball slowly rolls off the Summoner’s Court board and thuds into the grass below. Only one of theirs remains on the board, directly in the centre of the 20 point mark. On the other hand, the three red balls are scattered across the board- two on 20, one on 30.

“Aha! I win! I win! Take that!” Leander bounces up and down, throwing his hands in the air. He grins over at MC. “Er, sorry. You, uh, played well, too.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, cheeks going a bit pink. 

If it were anyone else, MC might have cursed them into next week, but they can’t bring themself to be very annoyed at Leander. To be quite honest, he’s cute when he’s excited, and he doesn’t get much more excited than when he wins at Summoner’s Court. “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll beat your ass next time, just you wait.”

Leander snickers. “You always say that, and you always lose. Er. Sorry. Again.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” MC flicks their wand, resetting the board. “Ready for another round?”

“Um, can’t. Have Herbology soon. It’s really good weather today, would be a shame not to take advantage of it for the plants.” He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it a bit. 

The sun is shining, and there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. Leander is right, it’s perfect weather for tending outdoors, especially with winter only a couple months away. Now is as good a time as any to give the plants some last days of sunshine. Suddenly, MC finds themself regretting having opted out of Herbology this year- it seems like Summoner’s Court is the only time they get to be around Leander anymore, and it’s quite frankly not enough. Letting him win over and over is all well and good, but they’d like to do something with him that doesn’t involve being dishonest, even if it’s only a white lie.

“Sounds like someone is afraid of a challenge,” they tease. 

“Wh-what? No. Well.” He blushes again, looking away. Merlin, where does he get off being so adorable? MC will never understand it. “Perhaps, but I really do have class.”

“Which you’re going to be late for if you don’t hurry up.” Samantha Dale says loudly from beside the game board.

The pair of them jump. “Bloody hell, where did you come from?” Leander gasps, clutching at his chest.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past several minutes, actually. Nice to know you were paying attention.” 

“Ah, who can blame us? We were in the midst of a gripping competition.” 

“I'm sure. You.” Samantha points at Leander. “Come. I will not be late because of you!”

MC frowns. Hmph. What’s she so eager about anyway? “Why don’t you just go ahead?” 

Samantha stares at them. “Because whenever I go it alone, Violet McDowel ends up sitting next to me, and I would rather limit how long I’m around her, frankly. Prewett is a step up, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Leander mutters, hopping down from the wooden platform. “I feel so loved." He spares MC a last glance, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. “Er. See you later?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They are not jealous as they watch Leander walk back to the castle with Samantha. It’s perfectly normal and platonic to feel itchy and mildly ill watching your good friend spend time with someone else. Not at all indicative at all of any underlying feelings that MC has definitely not been suppressing since the better half of last year. Nope, just normal everyday things to feel. Definitely. Not like they have a claim on him anyway. He’s perfectly free to hang around whoever he wants, even if it makes MC want to blow up a goblin encampment, just to feel something else. 

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

“MC really is something,” Leander says conversationally. “Great at everything. Except for Summoner’s Court.”

Samantha gives him a strange look. “Yeah… funny, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Well, yes.” They both take their seats next to each other at their potting stations. “You really don’t find it strange that they practically excel in all their classes, they won every Crossed Wands duel for the second year in a row, and also was champion of Summoner’s Court last year? They beat Professor Ronen at his own game, literally.” 

Leander has gone a deep shade of red, so he busies himself poking at the leaves of his Mallowsweet plant in a pitiful attempt to distract himself. “That doesn’t-”

“They stopped a rebellion, destroyed a criminal empire in Hogsmeade, and saved the whole school from a goblin invasion, but they can’t beat you, of all people, at Summoner’s Court?”

“Hey!”

“Just saying,” Samantha shrugs. “It’s all a bit odd.”

As much as he’d like to argue, he knows Samantha has a point. It is odd. MC has never lost at anything else, ever, to the point it’s almost supernatural. From the day they first came to Hogwarts, surviving a dragon attack and then defeating a troll in the village circle, they’ve never been anything but extraordinary. How would they keep losing to him? He’s never been very good at anything at all, especially compared to MC. There’s a voice in the back of his head, almost always whispering that he’s not good enough.

“Oh, Merlin,” He groans, putting his face in his hands as the pieces fall together. “It’s pity. They’re letting me win out of pity because I’m terrible. For the love of-” Leander has never been so embarrassed in his life. It all adds up though, doesn’t it? How could MC ever fail, if not on purpose? Is he really so pathetic? How in the world hadn’t he noticed before someone else pointed it out? His older sister always does tease him for not being the most observant, and he always thought it was just that- teasing. Unfortunately for him, it seems like she couldn’t have been more correct. 

“That might not be it,” Samantha says, gently patting his shoulder and looking mildly distressed. “I- perhaps they really aren’t very good! Probably, er, got rusty over the summer holiday, right?”

It’s appreciated, but her words do little to help. They both know damn well MC is throwing the games on purpose, but the question for him now is why? Why in Merlin’s name would they want to lose to him? 

He’s determined to find out. Grabbing his Mallowsweet in its hand-painted terracotta pot,he gets out of his seat with it. “I’m going to take Mortimer outside for some proper sun.”

“I believe you,” she says flatly.

Leander sticks his tongue out at her as he struts out of the Greenhouses with the plant. He might not be good at Summoner’s Court, but he does know plants, and he knows how much Mortimer likes to feel real sun on his leaves. Would MC think it’s weird that he gives his plants names and personalities? Is it weird? Why does he even care? 

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he mutters to the plant. “One way or another.”

He shoves open the castle doors, and spots MC still loitering by the Summoner’s Court board. There’s no other challengers, yet there they are, sat on the edge of the platform and kicking their feet. The way the sun shines down on them, making their eyes sparkle just so… it feels like a whole swarm of lacewing flies have taken flight in his belly. Glad he’s got Mortimer for emotional support (although taking a moment to cringe that he thinks of a plant as support), he walks over to them quickly, before he loses his nerve. 

“Well, look who it is,” MC says with an easy smile, which does not help the flip-flopping of his stomach. “I thought you had Herbology.”

“I did. Er, I do.” Leander clears his throat. “Plants prefer, erm, real sunlight though, and Mortimer here really likes when the weather is so nice, so…” 

MC tilts their head. “You name your plants? That’s sweet.”

“Y-yes. Er, that’s not, erm, the only reason I came back out, though. Um.” Just spit it out, you idiot! “Are you- have you…” He squeezes the pot to his chest, suddenly feeling foolish. Merlin, but he must look like an idiot, holding a plant and hardly able to get a real word out. “Have you been letting me win? At Summoner’s Court, I mean?”

“Uh.” MC’s face seems to go a bit pale. “Um. Would you be particularly upset if I have been?”

“I…” Leander sits next to them, shifting the pot so it rests in his lap. “Not especially. I’d just like to know… why?”

They shrug. “You always seem so happy when you win, you know? Thought I might let you have a few victories.”

“But so many times in a row? You haven’t won a single round in weeks!” 

A silence stretches between them, slightly awkward. “I…” They chew their lip and don’t meet his eyes, which is wholly unlike them. “I dunno, I thought if you kept losing, you wouldn’t want to play anymore.” To avoid looking at Leander, they stare at his plant instead, picking off some of the withered leaves. “I miss spending time with you, is all. We hardly have any classes together anymore, and with Crossed Wands already over for the year, it feels like this is the only place we can really be around each other.”

What what what what what what what WHAT.

“W-we do have some classes together…”

“It’s not the same, though.” They stop fiddling with Mortimer and glance up at him. 

Leander forgets how to form words for a moment. “I- I suppose not.” 

“I…” MC takes a deep, steadying breath. “I really like you, and being around you, and you’re not like anyone else I know, and I just… wasn’t sure how to ask you to… spend time together. More time together.”

“Could’ve just said that,” Leander says with a light chuckle, although it feels like his chest is constricting. They like him? And being near him? How on earth is that possible? “But I do appreciate winning.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” They elbow him, and he almost drops his plant. “Take that, I win every time, you lose!” They attempt to mimic his voice. Actually, it’s not a bad impression. 

“I really like being around you, too.” 

Now MC is blushing as well, something Leander never expected to see in all his life. Honestly, it suits them. “So, then… would you maybe want to go to the Three Broomsticks tonight? Like… as a date?”

He wants to jump up and down and say yes yes yes a million times yes absolutely as if you even have to ask, but…

“I would really love to, but I can’t tonight, I have to take care of Percy. But you’re welcome to join me in the Greenhouses… as a date. It could be fun!” A first date involving plants sounds like a grand time to Leander.

“Percy?”

“He’s a moonflower. They only bloom at night, but they’re good for potions and such, so… only if you want!” The burst of confidence has already faded, and the tiny voice is back, telling him that it’s just more pity, that MC doesn’t really want to be with him, of all people, and that his idea for a date is stupid. He tells it to shut up.

“I’d be more than happy to. A greenhouse date sounds lovely.” MC gives him that easy smile again, making his knees a bit weak. How are they so amazing? “You know, I always thought of the moon as a woman. Not a man called Percy.”

“Well, yeah, but Percy isn’t the moon, he’s a moonflower, there’s a difference.” 

“Oh, shush, you.”

[fanfic-enthusiast]

Just Try Your Best (GGG Fic)

“NO I DON'T WANNA!!” 

The shriek was so loud it rustled Cobigail out a nap in her leaves with a jolt. “LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” 

Before Cobigail could take a look herself a little girl came bolting into the closet where her domain resided. The girl was red in the face with her brows scrunched up and immediately sat down where she was with her arms crossed, grumbling to herself, completely oblivious to where she ran off to it seemed. A prime target for a prank. Quietly, carefully, Cobigail leaned over her and threw out her hands while making her signature scary face. 

“BOO!!!” The little girl screamed and covered her eyes with her hands. 

“Ahaha! Gotcha good! Well hello little thing. Hope I didn’t spook you too much?”

After realizing she was ok she carefully parted her fingers to look upon the cheeky prankster of a harvest god. 

“Noooooo.”

“Heh, well aren’t you a brave one! Not many your age can say they barely jumped at a prank from me. What’s your name kiddo?” “Parri…” “Well lovely to meet you Parri. Say what brings you to my humble abode.”

“I just wanted to get away from my teacher.” the little girl, Parri, crossed her arms again and furrowed her brow.

“Oh? Why is that? I thought she was nice.” 

“It’s cause she wants me to sing a stupid song with the rest of my class. And I don’t wanna.” 

She stomped her foot and threw her arms in the air in a little tantrum. Cobigail cocked her head a little and put her hands where her hips would be… if she had them.

“Now wait a minute little lady. A stupid song? I know plenty of songs, but I can’t really think of a stupid one.” 

Parri groaned and frowned harder, “You wouldn’t get it. I hate singing, I hate being here, and my teacher is mean to try and make me sing in some concert I don’t even want to be a part of.” 

A flash of memory comes through of similar kids not wanting to take part in shows or community gatherings. A sudden change in their excitement to be on stage, glee to anger. Rarely was it a genuine loss of enjoyment for music but rather something a little more, some problem outside the classroom in their lives. The part of Cobigail that remembers teaching kids like this knew that behavior all too well. 

She shrank down as much as she could and leaned over, to try and be closer to the little girl’s level. 

“Hey now, I’m sure you don’t mean all of that.”

“Yeah well I do.” 

“What specifically don’t you like about singing with your class?” 

“Um… the… crowd, and the song is bad. Like… slow.” she fumbled around for the right words but eventually fell quiet, caught red handed in her fib.

“Parri, I promise you can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t tell a soul. The concert’s here are for the community and are a way to bring everyone together, doesn’t that sound fun?” “...” Parri looked away from Cobigail down at her feet. “My momma can’t come to the concert tomorrow… and I don't know anyone else here. I’m gonna be all alone. I d-dont wanna perform alone.” 

Cobigail’s gaze softened and she gently put a large finger on the child’s shoulder. “And you’re afraid?” 

Parri nodded, her big eyes welled with tears threatening to break and pour over her little cheeks. Without warning she pulls herself around and holds onto Cobigail’s hand, thankfully missing the thorns on her arm and starts to cry. “W-w-we j-just m-m-moved. And I-I d-dont have f-f-friends here.” 

How long had it been since someone cried to her like this or looked to her for comfort? 

“Shhh… There there. It's alright. Let it out.” Cobigail soothed while carefully stroking her hair with another hand, she was so small, last time she did something like this she was sure the child was bigger in her grasp. Probably squeezing her waist while she stroked their hair and tried to calm them down, being a supportive presence in their lives. 

What did she do back then?

A memory of holding a crying child to her came forth, they had lost a pet recently and the grief was still fresh on their mind. She held them close apologizing to them and while they cried in her arms she started humming, something slow. She didn’t remember the name. 

She came back to the present as Parri hugged her finger tighter and buried her face into it. While Cobigail held her and gently hummed what bits of the song she could recall and made up the rest. Parri cried for a while, until the sobs trailed off to small snotty sniffles. 

“Do you feel a little better?” Cobigail asked.

She felt the little girl nod against her finger. 

“I know you said you're scared of performing alone. But you are braver than you think Parri. And you won’t be alone, this will be a good chance to get to know other people in the community… other kids like you.” 

“W-what if I mess up the song and they make fun of me?”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to make a mistake, Parri.” Cobigail laughed a little, “Oh boy. One time I missed a whole line of a song when I was little you know. Some time around your age I think.”

“What happened?” “Well I sure was embarrassed but no one laughed or made fun of it. The show went on and people congratulated me on the performance.”

“Even when you messed up?”

“Yes, cause I kept singing and finished the show. They were proud of me for doing my best.” Cobigail carefully brushed a bit of hair out of Parri’s face with a smile. “And I think even if you mess up a little, people will be proud of you too, just for trying.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, I bet you will even make some friends too. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“Yeah…” Parri nodded a little. “I still dont wanna go alone though… I wish my mom could come but she works...”

After a moment of thinking Parri looked up at her, still holding onto her finger. “Can you come? Please.” 

Cobigail thought for a moment, “... Parri, I will see your show. You may not see me, but I will be cheering you on, don't worry.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

“Pinky promise.” 

“Hehe kid, my pinky is bigger than your whole body!”

“Oh. Well then, cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart, and hope to fly, stick a corn cob in my eye. Bleh!” 

She made a silly face while miming poking herself in the eye and Parri giggled from where she sat in Cobigail’s hand. 

“See, look at you smilin’ away! Make sure you wear one for the show ok. I’ll be watching!” 

“Ok ok! I will.”

“Good, I know you're goin’ to do great. Now you should probably go back to class, the day is nearly over and I’m sure your teacher is worried.” 

She carefully placed Parri back on the soft cloud floor so she could leave.

“Ok, miss. Thank you for making me feel better.” 

“Of course, always happy to help whenever you need. Oh, one last thing.” 

“Yeah?”

“BOO!” 

“AH!!! Hehehe!!!!! Boo!” “Ha!! Great job!” and with that Parri was sent off back to her classroom through the closet door. 

True to her word, it was the end of the class day and the teacher was very worried about how long Parri spent in the closet with their god. (Only a little worried about whether or not the girl was eaten though, and more so worried about what to tell her mother if she was.)

When the next day rolled around and towards the evening when the shadows were long. The kids from the small choir school in Milldread gathered in the center of town to sing a few songs, to show the community what they learned so far in the year. 

As the performance went on from where Parri stood amongst her classmates scanning the crowd she could see the figure of Cobigail above her altar watched from a distance, like another member of the audience. 

And when the songs were sung and the people clapped, a wind rustled the arms of the figure making it look as if she was doing the same. Congratulating this little girl for doing her very best.

[princesskenny1998]

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Muggleborn!reader ~ Unobtainable, PT. 2

Hogwarts was a world of secrets and glances, hidden corners and whispered words. For you, that secret world had always revolved around one person: Draco Malfoy. It was silly, really, and you knew it. A Hufflepuff, a muggleborn, hopelessly in love with someone as unattainable as Draco—pure-blooded, polished, and most definitely out of reach. Yet no matter how many times you told yourself to stop being ridiculous, that foolish hope continued to stir in your chest every time you caught sight of him. And sometimes—just sometimes—you wondered if there might be a glimmer of a chance.

You had confessed everything to Megan Jones, your best friend, one rainy afternoon in the Hufflepuff common room, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you explained your secret feelings for Draco.

“Draco Malfoy?” she’d asked incredulously, her voice low and eyes wide. “Are you sure you haven’t taken a Bludger to the head recently?”

You’d laughed, even though it hurt a little to see how impossible your crush seemed to her. “I know, it’s stupid,” you’d said. “But he’s... different.”

“Different?” she echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “Y/N, he’s the most arrogant Slytherin in the school. You really think he’s paying attention to a Hufflepuff, a muggleborn one?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, frustration coloring your words. “But sometimes... sometimes it feels like he is.”

And it did. There were moments that you couldn’t quite explain, fleeting as they were, that made you wonder if maybe Draco noticed you too. Like in the Great Hall—every so often, you’d look up from a meal to find his eyes on you from the Slytherin table, his gaze intense and unreadable. He never looked away quickly, never tried to hide it, but there was always something in his expression that made your heart flutter, like he was studying you for a secret only he understood.

Then there were the times in the library. Draco had always been a fixture in the corners of the library, sitting at the tables closest to the Restricted Section with his nose buried in thick, dusty tomes. Lately, though, he’d begun sitting closer to you—never at the same table, but often the one right next to yours, even if the library was practically empty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was deliberately choosing to be near you, like he didn’t mind your presence, like he wanted you to notice him.

Megan was always skeptical, always ready to pull you back down to earth. “He’s probably just looking past you,” she’d said one afternoon as the two of you left the library together, your voice brimming with the excitement of another accidental encounter with Draco.

“But Megan, he sits near me all the time!” you insisted, knowing you probably sounded desperate. “He could pick any table, and he always chooses the one next to mine.”

She had just given you a sympathetic smile, squeezing your arm. “I know you want it to mean something, Y/N, but maybe he just likes that spot. Don’t get your hopes up too much.”

But your hopes never stayed down for long. They bubbled up again with every shared glance, every moment you caught him lingering on you with that curious expression. You started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely invisible to him after all.

One chilly November evening, the library was nearly empty, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional turning of pages and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You were alone at a corner table, a heavy herbology book open in front of you as you attempted to focus on your reading. The delicate diagrams of magical plants swam before your tired eyes, and you were struggling to remember the differences between Dittany and Wolfsbane when someone pulled out the chair at the table next to yours.

You glanced up, and your heart did a little flip. Draco Malfoy was there, his usual Slytherin swagger softened by the dim, warm light. He didn’t say anything as he settled down, but his gaze flicked briefly to you before he pulled a book from his bag, the motion slow and almost deliberate.

You tried to focus on your own book, but it was impossible. Your eyes kept straying to Draco, who was reading with an unusual intensity, his blonde hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, almost vulnerable. The silence stretched, and you felt the air shift between you, charged with an unspoken tension that you couldn’t quite name.

When you finally forced yourself to look back down at the page in front of you, you felt strangely self-conscious, like you were under a spotlight. You bit your lip, brow furrowing as you tried to concentrate, only to jump slightly when a voice, soft and almost playful, broke the quiet.

“You look cute when you’re trying to concentrating like that.”

You froze, your eyes snapping up to meet Draco’s. He was watching you with a smile—a real smile, not the smirk he usually wore, but something softer, almost gentle. It took you a moment to process what he’d said, and when you did, a blush crept up your cheeks.

“W-What?” you stammered, completely caught off guard.

He didn’t answer, just continued to look at you for another long moment, the smile lingering on his lips. Then, without another word, he stood up, slipped his book back into his bag, and left the library, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence, your heart racing and your mind spinning.

The next morning, you told Megan everything, barely able to contain your excitement. You’d been waiting for her in the Hufflepuff common room, practically bouncing with energy, and as soon as she sat down, you launched into the story.

“He called me cute,” you said breathlessly. “He actually said I looked cute!”

Megan’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she didn’t look skeptical. She looked shocked. “Malfoy? Draco Malfoy said that to you?”

“Yes!” you said, grinning so wide your cheeks ached. “I didn’t imagine it. He actually smiled at me—like, really smiled.”

Megan was silent for a moment, clearly processing this new development. “Okay,” she said slowly, “maybe... maybe he does notice you. But what does it mean? I mean, he’s still Draco Malfoy.”

“I don’t know what it means,” you admitted, “but it has to mean something, right? He wouldn’t just say that for no reason.”

Megan gave you a long, considering look, and then she smiled, a hint of warmth in her eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “Maybe there is a chance.”

The days that followed were a blur of hopeful anticipation. Every time you walked into the Great Hall, you searched for Draco’s face, and sometimes, you found him already looking your way. His gaze wasn’t cold or detached like it had been in the past; there was a softness there now, something almost tender that made your heart skip a beat. He never approached you, never crossed the space between your tables, but the glances were enough to keep your hope alive.

One afternoon, you were walking back to the common room when you saw him standing by a window, staring out at the rain that had begun to fall in a gentle drizzle. He looked lost in thought, and for a moment, you considered going over to him, saying something—anything—to acknowledge whatever strange connection had formed between you. But the words stuck in your throat, and before you could summon the courage, he turned and walked away, his expression distant once more.

Megan, who had seen the whole thing from further down the corridor, caught up to you, nudging your shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something?” she asked, her tone gentle.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I just... I’m scared, I guess. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m just imagining all of this?”

“You’re not,” Megan said firmly, squeezing your hand. “I saw the way he looked at you, Y/N. He’s not indifferent, whatever else he might be.”

It was nearing Christmas when the next real sign came, a little over a month since that strange, unforgettable encounter in the library. The castle was quiet, with many students already gone for the holidays, and you were once again buried in the herbology section, trying to finish an essay before term ended. You’d gotten up to grab another book, scanning the shelves when a familiar voice startled you.

“Still working on that essay?”

You turned, and there he was—Draco, leaning casually against the end of the bookshelf, his posture relaxed in a way you’d never seen before. His eyes were bright, almost playful, and that soft smile—the one you’d come to treasure—was back.

“Yes,” you said, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “I’m almost done, though.”

“Good,” he said, taking a step closer. “You work too hard, you know.”

The comment was so unexpected, so... normal, that you didn’t know how to respond. You just stood there, staring up at him as he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture so intimate it made your breath hitch.

“Keep being yourself, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re... different from everyone else.”

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there in the quiet library, your heart racing and a strange, wonderful warmth spreading through your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, there really was a chance after all.

@unicornqueen05

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Can I request a little fic where the Reader (GN) is with Mereel and they're kind of the opposite of him in personality (quiet, a little more reserved in public, a little more hesitant) and they're worried they won't measure up to him in the long term?

They just think he's so great and charming and charismatic that people seem to trip over themselves just to talk to him (in Legends, he has a reputation among his brothers for being a bit of a ladies' man/flirt), and it makes them wonder if they deserve to be with him.

So, they voice their insecurities to him bc communication is important and he assures them that he only wants them.

Thank you in advance!

Opposites Attract

Summary: Mereel is everything you ever wanted with a partner, but you’re not blind to your differences. And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what he sees in you.

Pairing: Mereel Skirata x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1226

Warnings: Reader is self-conscious about their relationship

A/N: This is a good request, I love it. But I also love Mereel! Thanks for making it~

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You don’t like parties. They’re too loud, and there’s too many people, and you never know what to say to them. It’s not like you’re the most interesting person in the world, after all.

And so, every time  you come to one of these parties, you find a comfortable place in a corner, near a window, and you read something on your comm or play a game, and you just wait until the party is over.

This has never been your scene. 

You’ve always been a little more quiet than your peers. More reserved. More hesitant. You wouldn’t be surprised if none of your old classmates even remembered your name, let alone your face.

The only reason you come to these parties is because of Mereel. Your boyfriend is an extrovert, not to mention he’s handsome and charismatic. It’s no surprise to you that people trip over themselves to get to talk to him.

It’s also no surprise to you that he’s so popular with women at these parties. No doubt more than one of these women are hoping that he’ll take them home for the night. 

There was a time he would, after all.

Though he hasn’t done that since he started dating you.

Your gaze lifts from your comm, and the book that you’re reading, and you find Mereel with ease. As you expect, he’s surrounded by women, and men, who seem to be doing their best to win his attention.

You don’t blame them. 

Mereel is gorgeous, after all. He looks especially good in the loose fitting tee-shirt and jeans you bought him. 

A tiny smile lifts your lips when his gaze meets yours, and he tosses you a grin and a wink, before he continues talking to his adoring audience. 

You really do love him so much. You love him when he’s being charming, you love him when he’s being goofy, and you love him when he’s being annoying.

But, the more you go to these parties, and the more you see how Mereel interacts with the people around him, and the more you see just how popular Mereel is, you can’t help but wonder if maybe he deserves better than you. Or, maybe you don’t deserve to be with someone so amazing.

You know that some of his friends here think that you’re not good enough for Mereel. They haven’t been shy about making comments to you. Though lately it’s become much more subtle.

It’s only a matter of time before Mereel starts getting invited to these parties with a note asking him to leave you behind when he comes to these parties. 

And then what?

Your best guess is that Mereel will realize that you don’t fit this lifestyle, and he'll apologize to you as he breaks up with you, and then you’ll have to find a new job because watching him hook-up with his flavor of the week would destroy you.

You jump when a light, familiar, hand landson the top of your head. Mereel is standing over you, a worried look on his handsome face, though it quickly turns into a warm smile when you shoot him a bewildered look.

“You alright, cyare?”

You nod, even more confused, “Yes?”

His dark eyes scan your face, looking for…what, you aren’t sure, but after a long 30 seconds his hand moves from the top of your head to cup your cheek, “Let’s get out of here,” Mereel says after a moment, “I’m starving.”

You squint at him suspiciously, “Are you sure? You looked like you were having fun.”

For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just grins and brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, “Yeah, cyare. I’m ready to get out of here.” He offers you his hand, “Come on.”

You watch him for a moment, and then you take his hand and allow him to tug you to your feet. You’re not going to complain about being able to leave this party early. 

You hope he’s feeling alright, though. He never wants to leave these things early.

Mereel tugs you out of the house, and into the brisk air of the night, his hand tight around yours. Not so tight that he’s hurting you, but tight enough that you have the feeling that he wants you close.

After several minutes of quiet walking, you bump your shoulder against him, “Are you feeling alright?” You ask, “You never want to leave those parties early.”

He glances at you, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You stare at him, doubtfully.

Mereel laughs softly, “Really, cyare. I promise I’m feeling fine.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

Several minutes later he stops and turns you so that he’s able to take both of your hands in his, “Cyare,” Mereel squeezes your hands and then brings them to his lips to kiss your knuckles, “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked sad at the party,” He explains.

“Oh, that.” You shrug, “I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“How long before your friends start asking you to leave me behind when you go to these parties,”

“They wouldn’t.” You shoot him a look, and Mereel has the grace to look sheepish, “They might ask but I wouldn’t do that.”

You sigh softly, and slowly thread your fingers with his, “Mereel,” You hesitate, trying to think of how you want to phrase this, “I know I’m not like you.” You finally say, “I’m quieter, more reserved…”

“Cyare, that doesn’t bother me.”

“You deserve better than me and everyone knows it.” You blurt.

Mereel stares at you for a moment, “No one thinks that, cyare.”

“You don’t hear how your friends talk about me when you aren’t around.” You correct him quietly, “And they aren’t exactly welcoming to me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug again, “They’re your friends.”

He releases your hands and cups your face, “You’re more important to me.” Mereel leans in and bumps his forehead against yours, “Do I want to know what they say about you?”

“Probably not.” You admit.

He scans your face again, “Okay. Then we won’t go to those parties anymore.”

You blink at him, surprised, “You don’t have to.”

“I love you.” Mereel counters, his voice serious, “I don’t want to spend my time with people who make you feel bad for being you.” He gently tilts your head back so he’s able to brush his lips against yours, “You are my choice. Always.”

“Even though I’m not like you?”

“If I wanted to date someone who was like me, then I wouldn’t have asked you out on a date. And I wouldn’t have moved in with you.” Mereel counters, very logically.

“Your logic is illegal when I’m feeling self-conscious.”

Mereel laughs and kisses you again, and then again, “Alright. If my logic is illegal, how about we go home and I show you just how much I love you.”

“I thought you were hungry?”

His grin widens, “Starved.”

Your face heats as you note the way he’s looking at you, “Well, I guess we should head home then.” You reply.

And Mereel laughs before he catches your lips again. You’re not worried about your place in his life anymore…though you might be a little worried about what he’s going to do to his former friends.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #6

What if… there was a very special day at the Showgrounds?

[more under cut]

For context, the people have spoken and the poll [link] is closed, the winner being 💍 (engagement ring) so I shall reveal what it is, drumroll please...

TWO-IN-ONE DEAL: FERRIS WHEEL WEDDING 🎡 + A SPECIAL SURPRISE AT THE END 💍

SURPRISE! The Wedding Episode Concept, naturally, was the Ferris Wheel emoji, but you all get a bonus for choosing the ring! Sorry that it took so long, but I've wanted to deliver something special to you guys for my birthday! Here's to celebrating my 22nd trip around the sun!

⭐️ 🎉 🎡 🎉 ⭐️

What more could he ask for?

SMG4 has been waiting for this his whole life. He had seen dozens of romcom movies and shows, as it was his guilty pleasure, and he hoped that one day, he would fall in love and perhaps even marry his partner. Of course, it didn’t play out exactly what he had seen.

Could you imagine: him, falling in love with his rival? And a former villain no less?

If you were to tell him years ago that he was going to love, date, and marry SMG3, he wouldn’t believe you. Hell, he would’ve coughed out some water if he had a glass, or stared at you because it must be some practical joke he didn’t get. Right?

But there was no joke nor was it a lie.

Change is a curious thing; the opportunities come so many times, but it takes bravery to say, “I want to change”. It then takes a lot more to say, “I will change”. Naturally, it can be difficult as it is, change having a negative perception. But what is human if not to fear the unknown? Four knew it too well, way before he dared to ask Three out. The ‘perfect’ incident, the Meme Factory. There were a lot of moments that he wasn’t proud of, all fueled by the pursuit of fulfilling an image. To show proof that he is worthy to his friends.

This was what stuck with him for years. He was lost for so long and, although it took him a while to find his self-worth, he knew he wanted to change. It was possible because he had seen it first-hand from Three.

Standing before the tall mirror in his room, he fidgeted with his blue bowtie for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was the same bow he wore in WOTFI 2023, except for the knot coated in a rose gold metallic. This, along with the matching waistcoat, were the only things he asked to be included exclusively in his wedding attire, it felt fitting for the occasion.

Meggy: “SMG4, your wedding’s in half an hour! Don’t mess up your collar.”

Meggy and Luigi were here, helping Four prepare for his big day as well as be his emotional support. Mario was supposed to also be here but apparently, he needed to do something else. He did wish Four luck, though.

Meggy was adjusting his white coat, a fusion of a normal jacket with a tail of what seemed like a wedding dress, all with its layers of ruffles. It matched wonderfully with his white dress pants and shoes. Seeing how Four’s nerves were getting to him, Meggy left the ruffles and helped Four with his bow again. He had to look his absolute best in his suit of white, blue, and rose gold after all.

Meggy stepped back, seeing the whole picture with Luigi. Four posed modestly and a note of hesitation.

SMG4: “Well, um… how do I look?” Luigi, giving a thumbs up: “Spectacular!” Meggy: [*nods*] “Agreed!” [*looks at him with patience*] “Nervous?” SMG4, turns back at the mirror: “Meggy, I’ve been running on expresso and adrenaline for the past couple of hours. Of course, I am.”

Meggy stands behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Meggy: “Do you love him?” SMG4, slips a small smile: “Is that even a question? I do.” Meggy: “And you know he feels the same.” [*Four nods*] “Even if things get tough, you guys can figure it out. I know you can. Honestly, out of the two of you, SMG3’s more of a nervous wreck than you.” SMG4: [*laughs*] “That’s Three for you.”

Four and Three have been dancing around each other for years, one unsure to make the first move. Much less if they felt like the other wouldn’t reciprocate. Pretty sure someone made a scholarly study on their would-they-won’t-they.

When Three dared to make the first move and confess his feelings, it was a lot for Four to take in. Four felt the same way, yes, but he was completely stunned by it that he didn’t know how to respond. That, unfortunately, spiraled into a series of misunderstandings and harsh tension between the two. Slowly, they later were able to clear things up, allowing Four to say “I love you too.”

Eventually, Four asked Three out. Four, being inexperienced in dating, was worried that his date plans weren’t enough. They ended up always being over-the-top. Three, on the other hand, was a complete mess because “No, Eggdog, just because Four invited me to watch a movie together doesn’t mean I can’t look fabulous, and that means I can’t mess up my eyeliner right now”. Over time, they learned to be less extreme and enjoy the simple things. As little as just Three hanging out while Four edits a video, it was worth something.

When they started dating, they decided to keep their relationship a secret. They weren’t exactly sure how the Crew would react, other than pure speculation. But there were certainly hints they’ve unintentionally left behind.

White flowers appearing in the cafe’s empty vases. Three and Eggdog frequently joining Four and Beeg4 for dinner. Three and Four falling sleep from cuddling on the game room sofa.

…Well, maybe they weren't that subtle, now that Four thought about it. He was at least glad that the Crew accepted the relationship when the two eventually told them. He took a breath and smiled at the indigo rose pinned in his lapel. Meggy was right, everything’s going to be okay.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3: “Nothing is okay!”

Meanwhile, in the cafe, SMG3 was pacing around, his purple heels clicking on the wooden floor. Bob and Saiko looked at him, unfazed.

SMG3: “Oh, by all the memes, what if he cancels the wedding? What if he doesn't want to marry me anymore? I mean, look at me! I look ridiculous, of course he wouldn’t.”

He stopped to present his attire to the other two with open desperate arms. He wore a white sleeveless, ballroom-styled gown with some ruffles in shades of purple and indigo. Like a dyed rose. A white pair of long silk gloves to match. His long hair was tied up in a messy bun with pearls and golden leaves sprinkled on his do. For the final touch, he wore a choker with his skull symbol in gold.

Bob and Saiko exchange a glance, an eyebrow raised.

Bob: “Dude, chill. If anything, I bet that idiot is going to short-circuit, forget everything, and propose to you again the minute he sees you.” SMG3: “Bob, I’m being serious! Weddings can go to complete disaster just by one small thing, and that is a fact.” Saiko: “Well, if you’re done with your what-ifs, come and sit down. I have to put the veil on.” [*pats the stool in front of her*]

Three grumbled, reluctantly taking a seat next to Saiko as she got the long white veil.

Saiko: “SMG3, relax. He’s not going to make fun of you. And no, he's not going to leave you at the altar.” SMG3: [*sighs*] “It's just… so many things could go wrong and… I don't want to lose him.” Saiko: [*her face softens*] “Alright, name me one time he's left you behind. Or that he doesn't care about you.” SMG3: “…Touché.” Saiko: “You love him, don't you?”

Three gives her a look as if she grew two heads. Really?

SMG3: “Of course I do.” Saiko: “Does he love you?” SMG3: “…Yes.” Saiko: “Does he want to marry you as much as you want to?”

SMG3 looked back at the past, remembering that day. Four and Three, as always, have been dancing around the idea of marriage. They joke around and say “maybe one day”, despite them already having engagement rings for each other.

Separately, they asked the other’s son for their approval. Eggdog immediately said yes to Four. If his dad is happy, then he is. But when it was Three’s turn, he was shocked when Beeg gave his approval without hesitation. Beeg explained that Beeg was on his dad's side in the ‘perfect’ incident. Even if Four was possessed and Beeg didn't regularly show it, Beeg did care for his dad. Three was the one who saved him. Not only once, but twice. And even more times afterwards. Beeg was forever thankful for that. Besides, it would be cool to have a dad that's just as chaotic as he is.

Four had planned a romantic date in his favorite flower field, just to propose to Three. Little did he know, Three had the same idea in proposing that day. Naturally, there was shock, confusion, then laughter. Indeed, they were the type of couple who would propose at the same time. Three remembered Four’s reaction, a smile filled with excitement and tears of joy in the corners of his eyes.

SMG3: [*smiles fondly*] “We both wanted this, more than anything.” Saiko: [*nods*] “Then, there's nothing to worry about. Just take his hand and you’ll know: everything is going to be okay.” [*finishes up, clips in the indigo rose to his bun*] “I think you're ready.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

When it comes to weddings, any newlyweds surprise themselves that they could never remember the finer details. Nerves, excitement, admiration, they all seem to cloud their minds. But even then, through the gaps of clarity, one can find a few memories. It was true when Four walked down the aisle.

Thanks to the recycled rides and stands from Puzzle Park, the Showgrounds appeared livelier than ever before. The lit Ferris Wheel served as the backdrop to the outdoor venue, the sunset painting the sky.

Walking alongside SMG1 and SMG2, Four could see every friend imaginable, all standing to watch their procession. Smiles, waves. Of pride and of silent congratulations. It seemed like the whole Mushroom Kingdom and beyond were here. Meggy and Luigi really helped get everyone settled in.

He manages to catch sight of Saiko, Kaizo, and Bob on a nearby stage, preparing to perform for the reception. They all waved when they noticed Four, Bob being more focused on the DJ turntable playing a record of soft piano tunes.

Once he reached the altar and turned around to wait for his partner, he could see the rest of the Crew in the front row. A few gave him a thumbs up, some were already starting to tear up. Four took a breath, drowning the last of his nerves. It's time.

And indeed, it was. A new tune settled in and the crowd turned to the front of the aisle. Four followed their eyes and no single thing else mattered anymore.

The long-awaited newcomer, SMG3, was the most beautiful person Four had ever seen. He've been knew, of course, but here, Three looked like an angel. A bouquet of indigo and white in hand, Three walked with their son. In tiny top hats and bowties, Eggdog throwing flower petals behind his dad while Beeg was holding the rings. The audience cooed and awed at Three's appearance. Four's heart skipped a beat, his stomach fluttered with butterflies. A lovestruck smile slipped on his face.

There was a mutter from Bob, followed by Saiko elbowing him to shut up, but he wouldn't notice. There was absolutely nothing that could top this.

Then there was Three, managing to see through the veil over his face, was drawn by his love upon the altar. Four looked amazing in the suit. It fitted him like a glove, colors and all. Breath taking. Oh, how much he wanted to run up and tackle him, pepper Four's face with kisses. With all the love in the world, he was tempted to do it. Once he reached the altar, Four offered his hand, Three swore he could melt right here and now.

SMG3, looking away in bashfulness: "Um...hey." [*Four lifts his veil*] SMG4, keeping his giddy smile: "Hi, dear." [*looking to realize they were the only ones at the altar*] "Ok. First off, you look beautiful and I'm willing to skip the vows just so I could kiss you, but... um... did you get someone to officiate our wedding?" SMG3: [*looks at him blankly*] "I thought you did...?"

As if their question was answered by the universe itself, a green pipe sprouted from the ground. Of course, the man of the hour, jumping out of it...

SMG3 and SMG4: "Mario?!" Mario: "Hello! :D" [*climbing out as the pipe went back down into the ground*] "It's about time you gays tie the knot."

Mario struck a pose, wearing his usual overalls and cap except for an additional black bowtie.

SMG4: "Wait, does that mean...? Mario: "Well, you officiate plenty of weddings, SMG4. It's only fair if Mario does it for you, as your Avatar and best friend. Besides, Toadstool gave me permission."

Four and Three looked at each other and shrugged, sure why not? Seeing that there weren't any problems with it, Mario cleared his throat.

Mario: "Dear guests, we're here today to see two of our beloved friends finally be together. Heroes, partners. Not only have they saved us countless times, they also saved each other. And believe it or not, man, how it was pure torture for Mario to see their yearning." [*everyone chuckles*] "Now, Mario may not be the most intelligent, or intelligent at all, but Mario will say this: the love and care between these two is undeniable. As much as they started as rivals, they have grown to be who they are today because of their partner. A miracle of second chances, of understanding. And as their friend, Mario can say how happy he is for the two of them." SMG4, whispers: "Wow, Mario. Thank you, that was actually very sweet." Mario, whispers back: "Dude, Mario's been captain of the ship from day one. Especially because of the igloo. Anyway..."

SMG3 and SMG4 froze, and glanced at the crowd with nervous smiles. Hopefully, no one else heard that. And no, no one did.

Mario: "If anyone objects to the wedding, speak now or forever hold your peace." [*the crowd stayed silent*] SMG3: "Good, because I was about to fight anyone that did." [*Four snickers*] Mario: "Now, for the vows." [*Beeg comes forth with the rings, offering them to his dads*] SMG4, holding a rose gold ring: "Three..."

But before Four could say anything else, a loud crash interrupted the ceremony. The ground shook violently, Three and Four held to each other protectively. Then, another rumble, this time the Ferris Wheel crashing down. The impact created a giant dust storm, the terror rising within the crowd. Fortunately, no one was hurt.

As the dust settles, a large figure emerges. Unfamiliar for most, the opposite for the Crew.

SMG4, eyes narrowed: "You..." ???: "Ah, was I too late to object? Or you didn't care to invite me?" SMG3: "Please, as if we wanted you here. At all." ???, to SMG4: "Gee, and I wonder how a hero would come to ruin, marrying a villain? Then again, with you and your perfectionism, you might've already had." [*turns to Three*] "And you, did you really believe turning yourself into a "good guy" would make you feel better for what you've done in the past? Or what, did you think villains could have happy endings?"

Three frees himself from Four's embrace to step forward, an arm shielding his partner.

SMG3: "Now, listen here, asshole! Being a villain or not, I don’t give a shit what you all think of me anymore. But don’t think I’m going to let you crash in here and ruin our wedding day!" ???: "Hmph. Well then, I would like to see you try."

With a wave of their hand, a whole army of henchmen starts to emerge from the woods, marching towards them. Somehow, SMG3 pulls out a giant machine gun out of thin air, leaving everyone flabbergasted. Where the hell did that come from?

SMG3, smug: "Bet on it."

Just as everyone else reacted, Four did as well. No, like seriously, where did Three get that gun from? Regardless of what that answer may be, Four simply seeing Three's iconic grin made him blush. Screw what Four said earlier, this was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Oh spaghetti gods, that was kinda hot.

SMG4: “Three…” Please marry me... oh wait, I already proposed. Shit. SMG3, looking back at his partner with reassurance: “I know it’s not how the wedding’s supposed to go, but since when was our world ever normal?” [*offers a hand*] “Whaddaya say, want to kick some ass?”

Four, completely enamored by Three, happily accepted his hand.

SMG4: “I’d say, let’s give the audience what they want.”

He winks at the viewer. Yes, you, the one behind the screen. He then turns to Saiko, Kaizo, and Bob.

SMG4: “Drop us a beat.”

The three nodded and performed a song, unlike one that would normally play at a wedding. The two parties clash, hordes of henchmen fighting against guests in fancy outfits.

Mario and Luigi knocked out a few with a hammer and vacuum respectively while Meggy had their back with her Splattershott.

Tari shot down enemies from the sky and Melony in her god mode struck several in the ground with her sword.

In the heart of it all, there was the newlyweds. Three switched between using his machine gun to throwing bombs. Four meanwhile used his meme power and a handgun, his senses becoming hyper-sensitive. If his new abilities taught him anything, it was that he could maneuver like an actual glitch. One second, he was in front of you, and in the next, he would be right behind you to strike. To them, this was an elaborate dance that only they knew the steps of.

They supposed it was true about weddings, time moves so quickly that you never remember the finer details. But Four, protecting his partner's back, knows that, in a moment of clarity: he was lucky to have Three by his side.

Soon, the army retreated back into the woods, and the villain, tempted to hide their defeat, glared at the duo.

???: "This isn't over."

And with that, they fed in a blink of an eye. The guests cheered, celebrating their victory. Three dropped his gun and was about to ask if Four was okay. Instead, Four jumped into his arms and kissed him. Three was certainly surprised by it but kissing his love back. Their attires were tattered up in tears and stains, their hair looking like bird nests. They didn't care.

The two part, and Three raised his eyebrow.

SMG3: “Doesn’t the kissing part come after we exchange the rings?” SMG4: [*rolls eyes amusingly*] “Oh, now I’m not allowed to kiss my future husband?” SMG3: [*takes a gold ring from his gown pocket*] “Husband.”

The two exchanged the rings as they said their vow:

I, as your partner, acknowledge that we had a rough start, clashing due to jealousy and greedy desires. But despite it all, I always have and will admire you, willing to forgive you for the hurt that was done. I promise to be with you when you need me. I promise to continue to love you, be your partner-in-crime. Let me be with you in every adventure until the very last. It'll be 'you and me against the world', until the stars fall from the sky...

SMG3: “As your husband, I promise to be true.” SMG4: “As your husband, I promise to be your light.

The two shared another kiss, this time the crowd cheering for the couple. Together, always and forever. A life spent with their love is all they could ever wish.

What more could he ask for?

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

⭐️ 🎉 💍 🎉 ⭐️

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this episode (concept), I've been waiting to share this one with you guys for so long and I had the perfect time to do so!

By the way, for SMG4's outfit, I was inspired by this from Pinterest [link] AKA the most enby wedding outfit that I've ever seen. For SMG3, I kinda just made it up on the spot but thought about "pretty princess" the whole time. As for the battle scene, I had the perfect (oh yeah, gonna use that word) song that matches it [link], a remix track from Deadpool & Wolverine. Just imagine all the slowmo, *chef's kiss*.

Anyway, thank you all so much for the birthday wishes and presents, it really meant a lot to me and made my day feel special.

Hang on, I'm getting a call....

Whats this?? ...MERCH?!?!? That's right, introducing:

Ferris Wheel Wedding (Fake) Merch Line

First up we got a special acrylic keychain, where one side we have the lovely couple standing in front of the Ferris Wheel, and on the other side, here they are being totally badass.

It also comes in as a standee, WOW

Next up, we got a poster of the newlyweds off to their honeymoon. Aw, look at them riding Four's forklift! How lovely ❤️

And lastly, for a limited time only, we have the matching wedding rings, exact replicas of Four and Three's!

Share it with a partner if you have one, use it in an actual wedding, or just have it as a souvenir!

GET YOUR MERCH TODAY!

(i'm luke trust me /j)

[gunilslaugh]

The Truth

Hello my lovely dear readers,

Have you missed me? I’ve had some thoughts about coming back recently cause I miss writing fanfiction more than I thought I would. However, thinking about coming back has had me reflecting more about why I left. 

In my goodbye post I said it was because of me not feeling comfortable writing fanfiction about other men in a romantic way when I have a boyfriend now. That is true and was ultimately the deciding factor in me stepping away from my blog. I did leave some other information out of my goodbye post though. That information being that I had been thinking about ending my blog before I even started talking with my now boyfriend. 

Truthfully writing fanfiction began to not feel fun anymore. This feeling actually started when I made my side blog @twinklingstar1ights I thought that opening up that side blog would help bring back the joy I had for writing fanfiction and at first it did. It felt refreshing to write for more groups.

However I felt like my main focus had to be on gunilslaugh. I felt the need to upload for my followers. Especially since there aren’t many writers for Xdinary Heroes. I didn’t want to let you all down by putting writing for the heroes on the back burner. This is where I made a mistake that led to me feeling burnt out and losing motivation to write. 

Another factor that led to me wanting to step away was some of the reception to my works. It seemed like all works that I was actually proud of and liked flopped and works that I lowkey hated did really well. It felt discouraging. I get and respect that people have different tastes, but when I posted works that I was so excited to post only for them to get such little reception it stung. Like I wanted to know what was wrong with them. Why didn’t you guys like them? I know that I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up on numbers, but it was hard not to. 

Maybe I was too in my own head, but I started to feel like my engagement with my readers was low. My works would get a lot of likes, but that kinda felt like it. They hardly got any reblogs and even less comments. I feel really pathetic for complaining about this, but it kinda felt like you guys didn’t want to interact with me. Like the last q&a I did, only one person sent me questions. I wanted to be a writer that had really good communication with their readers. I wanted to interact with you guys. I will take this time to acknowledge those who did interact with me cause you all were my favorite. I got excited when I saw your guys' usernames or emoji anons. 

My Villain Xdinary Heroes series got the most interaction. People left comments and anons sent in messages telling me how much they liked them and were excited for the other parts to be posted. That was probably my happiest time as a writer. Although that being said after wrapping up Villain Xdinary Heroes fics those interactions went away. This was probably me overthinking, but it made me feel like my works weren’t as good anymore. Obviously I don’t expect high interaction rates on every post I make. Yet for some reason only seeing like after like began to feel disappointing. Again I feel really stupid for complaining about this. Like who complains about getting likes? 

Writers spend hours creating our works and only getting a like button hit just kinda feels like bare minimum I guess if that makes sense. All those posts about Reblogs>Likes is so true. Reblogs make writers 100x more happy than a like does. Don’t get me wrong I still appreciate all the likes my works get. It’s just like a said hours go into creating works and a like button takes a second to hit and it’s not as personal as a comment either. I loved hearing you guys’ thoughts and feelings about my works. 

When I was writing the last of my requests before ending my blog they were just asking for their request. Which is fine, that's what a request is. However in the past you guys would compliment me or ask how I was doing, say that you hope I was doing well. I got to have that bit of interaction that I wanted with my readers. Seriously a “Hi, how are you?” or a “I hope your day is going well :)” on a request would make me so happy. I kinda didn’t realize how much I liked it until it wasn’t there. This is again I feel really pathetic for complaining about, but I want to get my truth out there. I want you guys to know all the factors that lead to me making my decision to step away. Cause in my goodbye post I basically blamed it on my relationship. The reason I did that is because as I previously stated these other reasons make me feel pathetic. That these small things grew to bother me so much.

I think if I look back to when my struggles with my blog started was when an anon sent in a request saying that they thought I wrote Gunil duller when compared to the other members. I just deleted that request cause it felt a bit back handed. Like they said that they thought I wrote Gunil dully then proceeded to request something. I understand constructive criticism, but this did not feel like that, it felt rude. It got me paranoid too. I went back to my ot6 works to reread them to see if it was true. Because if it was I wanted to fix that obviously. It was never my intention to write him dully if that’s how it came across.

When I write ot6 works I start with Gunil first, so in a way he’s the “icebreaker” to get my ideas flowing. Which could result in his part not being as detailed as the others, but I never wanted that to happen. My blog is named after him for peats sake. I love the guy (and his laugh). Anyway that comment just really got in my head despite trying to brush it off. 

Speaking of ot6 works. I mentioned it before but I actually prefer writing member x reader works, but most of my requests were ot6 works. Again this falls into my taste not exactly aligning with my readers. I was putting out works that I didn’t necessarily feel like writing, but I didn’t want to disappoint you all by not writing your request. It felt like what I wanted to write wasn’t what you wanted to read. My need to please my audience out weighed writing what I wanted, which again ultimately led to me feeling burnt out. 

So yeah even if I put my relationship aside I feel like the end of my blog was still coming. Writing for it was beginning to feel more like a chore than a hobby. Like I stated at the beginning of this long spiel I have thought about coming back. I would definitely be different than before though. I thought about combining my side blog and my main blog to just be a multi-fandom blog or maybe I would keep them separate, but not have my focus be on gunilslaugh. I would just write about who I want, when I want, not stress about having a fixed writing schedule. If I came back it would be like starting fresh. Gunilslaugh 2.0 Honestly I even thought about just creating a whole new blog, starting completely afresh. 

All this being said I still don’t know about coming back. I just felt the need to share the whole story with my readers since you guys have given me so much support. I’m sorry if anything I wrote in this offends anyone in some kind of way or made anyone feel bad. That’s not my intention I just want you all to know what I’ve been feeling, what has been on my mind. Why I made the decision I made. 

Sorry that this was so lengthy I’m done yapping now. Thank you for taking the time to read this. 

Maybe we will meet again in the future, stay happy and healthy. 

Gunil’s Laugh <3

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

cry tears of puddles on ground here some incoherent snippets of what text partner about silco jinx father daughter dynamic that am going insane over rn hands n knees on ground begging sobbing n too busy do that to clean up or be coherent - n idk how much actual media analysis support by show evidence n how much it just me imagine things self insert wishful thinking - n there also may be from a few to many undescribed screenshots of season 1 because god have 100+ in camera roll

.

weak for father child esp found father child trope imperfect father but i will love you unconditionally i will try to be the best father can be for you even if i am irreparably messed up and so are you & imperfect child traumatized act out slowly losing grip with reality n will lash out will be rebellious ruin us all but you’ll be the best father i’ve ever had

(no diss on vanco tho)

him clumsily lift arm n hesitate n not know what to do not know if he should do not know how to do

subtle facial expression from “what’s going on what do i do” -> sadness (for powder n for his younger self) -> anger n determined n vengeful (for power n for his younger self) in span of seconds

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.”

“don’t cry. you’re perfect.” AS HIS LAST WORDS

“show them. we’ll show them all” his voice echo after his death as she shoot missile. n she did. she did!!!!! to have so many people growing up not believe in her think her useless say that to her face - n her figure out how to use gemstone BY SELF with no previous guide!!! with no upside tech with only what she can get there!! build bombs now even viktor n jace n those people say near impossible disassemble without explode in face. n entire time silco believe in her BELIEVE IN HER SUPPORT HER. WE’ll show them. WE. n THEY DID!!!! they did!!! together!!!! he’s dead by time she fire missile but they really did. the fact his voice echo with her as she do it, fact that animation flash to his body as she do it— also fact that. every step of way they did. she top most demanded by name person, most threatening person.

doctor scene “are you ready to lose her” “she can take it.” FATHER

believing in her bc she can because she HIS daughter n HIS daughter can take it n also believing in her because he needs to he needs her so she will take it she make it she HAS TO because he can’t lose her he can’t be without her

a father who did objectively HORRIBLE things. with SHITTY morals but also REALLY HOPEFUL (word choice) ones in twisted way.

be complicated character who is shitty for flooding undercity with drugs be drug lord but in same time doing that because he truly want zaun freedom - like think it important emphasize its. not HIM be ruler of zaun at least not directly phrased that way but fact that zaun freedom. like he very much could just directly say “one day zaun be free n am rule over” but he didn’t say second part. he not altruistic by any means but also!!!! he is???

all that complicated cruel will-do-anything-to-achieve-his-goal-beyond-himself villain-ness in direct contract with having the ONE SOFT SPOT of his daughter who FUCKS SHIT UP who is DIFFICULT who UNCONTROLLABLE UNPREDICTABLE n he loves her UNCONDITIONALLY he spoils her gives her so many lee way

the fact that someone so fucked up someone so actively make things difficult for him. can be loved

no am don’t have issues at all

also calling jinx difficult n fucked up n ruin things with all love in world not in derogatory way. because. it’s like. am fucked up. am difficult. am severely traumatized. am want burn whole world down for leaving me behind for betray me. in many people eye am more trouble me than am worth. n idea of. a father who love me just the way that am call me perfect. even if. [ ].

n to call someone like that. perfect

n to. mean it.

to genuinely see n treat her as perfect

even after she mistakenly shoot you killing you - to be constantly put in jeopardy by her fucked up ness to be harmed n killed by her fucked up ness. to see mistake as just that - mistake. n to forgive you for that no questions asked to love you unconditionally despite that or even because of that. for her mistake cost you your life n for your last word be tell her don’t cry, that she perfect.

down to willing give up his whole dream whole goal whole purpose he fought for all these fucking years - thing he gave his entire life towards.

because he refuse give her up he refuse leave her abandon her use her as pawn

“you’re my daughter. i’ll never forsake you.” like genuinely truly believe he mean this he truly won’t take the deal with upside even if that mean zaun freedom because he refuse abandon jinx. he not just saying it to be manipulative or just saying be lying because he’s tied up with her have gun beside her he know she very much may fire

his “everyone betrayed you/us but i’ll never. am gave you everything” may be see as “you have no one but me” manipulative n maybe is but more importantly think that like. he genuinely believe that. like that his entire character origin. his entire motive.

the fact that she killed him n he don’t blame her one bit.

the fact the villain character clumsily learning how to take care of a child

he truly see her n treat her like her daughter not a pawn not a subject. more times than not instead of have her on leash as his subject he is leashed by her

to be so utterly broken n love someone

to be so utterly broken n be loved unconditionally by someone

two character who betrayed by entire world by people who once closest to them

n him swearing that he will never ever fucking do that to her. that they may not have other people they may have entire world against them but they have each other

n him FOLLOWING THAT down to his last breath

him not following that would have make his life n make more than his life so much easier

BUT HE REFUSE TO

also he didn’t betray her by lying to her that her sister is dead he genuinely believed her sister dead. leading to the funniest frame n line ever

“FROM THE DEAD???????”

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Atychiphobia

Summary:

Atychiphobia is an intense fear of failure. Fear of failure is self-limiting and causes severe stress and anxiety. It can impair your present relationships, goals to succeed, and productivity.

Ford Pines gets paid a visit one night from a certain dream demon.

Author's Note: I’ll have you all know I started with the intent of like, a 6k one shot. It’s now eight chapters and 28,000 words with an inspiration playlist and it took me two months to finish. It is done already though, so I'm gonna post one chapter every Saturday morning until it's all out. I hope you enjoy it!

...

It’s during a dream that Ford first meets Bill.

It starts off as a really good dream, too.  He and Stan have finished fixing the Stan-O-War and are casting off to the open sea.  Ford can see scientific anomalies and monsters in the distance for him, and treasure and cute girls for Stan.  Stan’s talking excitedly about all of the adventures they’re about to have, and Ford has mapped it out so they’ll still be home in time for dinner.

But just as they’re about to sail out of sight of Glass Shard Beach, Ford hears a cackle of laughter from beside him, and not like Stan’s normal-sounding laughter.

“Stanley?” Ford asks, turning in confusion.

Stan turns to face him too, but his smile is way too wide, and his eyes are yellow with slitted pupils.

Ford yelps and leaps backwards, only for definitely-not-Stanley to reach out and grab him by the shirt.

“Careful there, Sixer,” says a voice that also doesn’t belong to Stanley.  “You might fall!”

Ford looks behind him and finds that the edge of the boat is a lot closer than he remembers it being.

Not-Stanley yanks him forward, and Ford yelps again, landing on his hands and knees on the deck.  He looks up and sees Stan grinning unnaturally down at him.

“Stan?” he asks weakly.  Not-Stan laughs.

“Nope!” he calls, and then from Stan’s eye emerges a top hat, and then a bright yellow shape, and then Stan vanishes completely.  In his place is a floating yellow triangle with a top hat and bow tie.

“Wow, have I been waiting to meet you, Sixer!” the triangle says.  Ford stands up.  He wants to take a step back, even though that didn’t work out so well last time.

“Only Stanley gets to call me that,” Ford says.

The triangle laughs, like that’s funny.

“Who are you?” Ford demands, clenching his hands into fists and trying to be brave.  “Give Stanley back!”

The triangle laughs again.  “Wow, you’re the first Sixer I’ve met who’s ever said that,” he says.

“What?”

The triangle looks at him, and despite the fact that he doesn’t have a mouth, Ford gets the distinct impression that he’s smiling.

“Aww, you’re just a little shrimp, aren’t ya?” he says.  “No wonder you want your other half around.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Ford says weakly.

“Oh, my bad,” the triangle says.  He holds out a hand.  “I’m Bill!  I don’t think we’ve met in this dimension yet!”

“In this what?” Ford asks, ignoring the hand.  He’s still trying to figure out how the triangle is talking without a mouth.

“This dimension, Sixer!  This is a fun one!  You’re a tad young, but no way that can stop you for long!”

“I— huh?”

“I’ve met you in too many dimensions, you never let anything stop you!” Bill continues, as if Ford’s confusion doesn’t exist.  “You’re too smart for that!”

Ford blinks.  “Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just pointing out facts!  You’ve got a lot of potential, kid!  I’ll be keeping an eye on you!  Wouldn’t want to let it go to waste!”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that, but it doesn’t end up mattering, because that’s about the time he hears “Hey, Sixer,” and feels a poke on his cheek.

Ford groans and rolls over in bed, burying his head back in his pillow.

“Sixer,” says the much more familiar voice of his brother.  “Wake up, Grauntie Mabel’s making pancakes, we’ve gotta get down there and stop her from adding glitter.”

And well, that is a real concern, so Ford manages to pull his head up with another groan and a grumble, and rubs at his eyes.

“I’ll hold her off as long as I can,” Stan says, from his spot right next to Ford’s bed.  “Just get downstairs quick!”

He runs out before Ford can say anything else.

Ford yawns, stretches, and forces himself into a sitting position.

“What a weird dream,” he mumbles to himself as he slips his feet out of bed.

…

He doesn’t put together that the triangle demon Fiddleford and Stan say they saw talking to Bud Gleeful is Bill until they’re inside Grauntie Mabel’s head.  But strangely enough, Bill doesn’t act like he knows him at all, and things are a little too urgent at the time for him to think much about it.

And after they’re done stopping Bill, well, things hardly get less urgent.  Ford doesn’t have any time to think about the fact that he had a weird dream about Bill being nice to him until after they’ve stopped Bud and have headed back home to the craft store to relax.  Grauntie Mabel promises to make a breakfast for dinner of pancakes with edible glitter, which Ford and Stan consent to as a fair compromise, and they all end up in the kitchen, laughing and reminiscing on all the crazy things that have happened the past couple of days.

But it’s only after Grauntie Mabel has gone to feed Waddles dinner that Stan says, “Man, I should have known the evil demon trying to take over Grauntie Mabel’s head was a distraction.  Classic bait-and-switch.”

And Ford’s eyes widen as he realizes he’d completely forgotten about Bill in the events of the last couple days.

“Uh, hey,” he says, turning to face Stanley.  “Stan—”

“Alright, share those, I’m not making any more tonight,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s voice, and she yanks away the last two pancakes that Stan had been about to reach for.  “You each get one, and head up to bed, it’s way too late as it is.”

“But Grauntie Mabel,” Stan whines.  “We defeated an evil fake psychic today!  Can’t we stay up a little later as a reward?”

“You can stay up later at the karaoke party we’re having on Saturday to celebrate,” Grauntie Mabel says, waving her hand towards the steps.  “Come on, we’ve all had a very long couple days.  I’m an old lady, I need my beauty rest.  And so does Waddles.”  She reaches down and rubs the pig on the head, who gives a satisfied oink as if to confirm.

“Does it have to be a karaoke party?” Stan mutters, but he shovels another couple bites of pancake in his mouth and then pushes his chair back.

“Goodnight Grauntie Mabel,” Ford calls quickly, pushing his chair back to follow Stan.  “Uh, hey,” he calls to Stan as they start up the steps.  “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?” Stan asks, glancing over at him.

“Had you ever, like, seen Bill before?  Like, before you and Fiddleford found him talking to Bud?”

“No, why?” Stan asks.  “You see him in the journal or somethin’?”

Well, that too.  And the author’s paranoid scribblings about never trusting or summoning Bill at any costs just made Ford more confused about the dream he’d had before.  But if Stan doesn’t know anything about him, then he must not have gotten a similar dream.  Which is weird.  Bill mentioned Stan in the dream, so he clearly knows about him.  Why would he only talk to Ford?  Did it have something to do with Bill calling him smart and talking about his potential?  Did he not view Stan the same way?  But then, the Bill from his dream had acted very different from the Bill who invaded Grauntie Mabel’s head.  Then again, if he’d been working for Bud, maybe he was just doing what Bud told him to?  Stan said they’d made a deal of some kind.  But if the author clearly thinks he’s not trustworthy, that’s probably not something Ford should just write off.

“Ford?”

Ford blinks, and Stan’s staring curiously at him.

“You good?” he asks.  “You just kinda… stopped talking, there.”

“I’m good,” Ford says, mostly on instinct.  “Just… thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

Ford bites his lip.  “Nothing,” he decides on.  He doesn’t know what he thinks about anything yet, and Grauntie Mabel’s right, it’s been a long couple days.  He doesn’t want to bother Stan with questions about Bill right at the tail end of their victory.  “I’ll tell you in the morning, okay?”

Stan looks at him for another moment, and then shrugs.  “Okay,” he says, and then starts back up the stairs again towards the attic.  Ford follows him, trying to put Bill out of his mind for the night.  Besides, they’ll have plenty of time to figure things out now that Grauntie Mabel’s not sending them home.

Ford’s planning on heading straight to bed as soon as they get there, but as they walk into the attic, Stan says, “Hey,” and when Ford turns around he sees him holding up a hand.

“You were awesome today, Sixer,” Stan says with a bright smile.  “I’m never gonna forget the look on Bud’s stupid face.  High six?”

Ford grins at him, and slaps Stan’s hand with his own.  “High six,” he says.

Stan grins wider as he starts back over to his bed, and as he climbs under his covers, adds, “See?  You don’t need the journal to be awesome.  You can do amazing things all on your own.”

Ford looks away as he climbs into bed to hide his smile at that one.  “You were pretty awesome too, you know,” he says after a second, turning to face Stan again.  “With that grappling hook.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stan says, in a falsely cocky voice, putting his hands on his hips.  But the smile on his face as they start over to their beds shows that he appreciates it.

Ford laughs a little.  “Goodnight, knucklehead,” he says, laying down and pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Night, dumb-dumb!” Stan calls back cheerfully.

Both of them fall asleep smiling.

…

Ford’s not sure how much time has passed when he opens his eyes again, but it’s still dark in the attic.  Ford glances up towards the window for any sign of a coming morning, but oddly enough, he can’t even see the stars that are usually visible through the window.

Ford pushes the covers back and sits up, turning to face the window.  Is this more Gravity Falls weirdness?

He walks quietly over to the window and peeks out, but nothing’s outside of it, just a long black expanse.

“Um,” he says, starting to get a little nervous.  He turns to the bed on the other side of the room and whispers, “Stanley.”

A grumble comes from the bed.  Ford walks over and pokes Stan in the shoulder.  “Stanley, wake up—”

Stan spins over in bed, sudden and visceral, his bones cracking audibly.  Ford screams and leaps back a step, before Stan’s eyes snap open to reveal bright yellow irises.

“Heya again, Sixer!” yells a now-familiar voice.  Stanley’s body peels back in a way that’s not much better than the bones cracking, and Ford looks away, feeling nauseous.  Out of the corner of his eye he sees Bill float up from what was Stanley a second ago.

Bill turns around and laughs, poking the mush left on the bed.  “Man, he’d look good as a corpse!”

“Stop it!” Ford screams, turning around completely and shoving his hands over his ears.

“Aw, come on, Sixer, I’m just having a little fun!  Tons of other versions of you thought that was funny!”

Ford just shoves his hands over his ears tighter, though it doesn’t seem to do anything to block Bill’s voice.

“Not your style yet, huh Sixer?”

“Stop calling me that!” Ford says, turning around and keeping his gaze firmly away from the other bed.  “Only Stanley gets to call me that!”

Bill laughs again.  “Man, I always forget how tight you two are at first.  Just weird to see, lemme tell ya.”

“What are you talking about?” Ford asks, clenching his hands into fists.  “And why did you invade Grauntie Mabel’s head?  And why did you act like we’d never talked before when we found you?”

“Woah, slow down, Sixer, one question at a time,” Bill says, amusement bleeding into his eye.  “Look, Shooting Star was nothing personal.  Just the terms of the deal, you know?  Besides, you and your useless brother beat me in the end.  No harm no foul.”

Ford grits his teeth.  “Okay, I’ve decided, I don’t like you,” he says.  “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, calm down, Sixer,” Bill says.  “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t like your version of help,” Ford says coolly.  “You almost hurt my Grauntie, and you’re mean to my brother.”

“Hey, sorry bud,” Bill says, holding up his hands.  “Old habits die hard.  I learned it from you, you know.”

“Why do you keep saying stuff like that?  Stanley’s not useless, you’re just being mean!”

Bill laughs again, sounding harsher and meaner than before.  “I always forget how little you humans know about the multiverse.  Come here, I’ll show you!”

“What do you—” Ford starts.  But before he can finish, Bill grabs him by the arm and yanks him upwards, through the air and towards the attic window.

Ford yelps and tries to shield his face from the glass, but they pass right through, and when he opens his eyes he sees a car driving away from their house.  He doesn’t recognize the car, but Bill points at it like it means something.

“I’d imagine you’ve got about six years left before that brother of yours realizes what you really are and kicks you to the curb,” Bill says.  “That’s him in the car, getting far away from you.  Can’t blame him, really.”

Ford scowls and yanks his arm away.  “You’re a liar,” he says.  “Stanley wouldn’t do that.”

“I’ve got a couple dozen dimensions that prove you wrong, Sixer,” Bill says, grabbing his arm again.  “You want to take a tour?”

Ford tries to yank his arm away, but Bill just tightens his grip, and the world around them shifts again.  The type of car changes, but it’s still driving away from their house, and when Bill yanks them down next to the car, the person inside really does look a lot like an older version of Stan.  He looks angry, and he’s glaring out the window ahead of him, not seeming too interested in what’s back at the house.

“That doesn’t mean he’s leaving,” Ford snaps, glaring at Bill, since he can’t seem to pull his arm out of his grasp.  “That’s what Stan does when he’s upset, he needs space.”

Bill laughs again.  “Sure seems like a lot of space, then,” he says.  He snaps his fingers, and time seems to rewind around them, until the car stops with the older-looking-Stan outside of it.  Ford watches as he shouts up at the house: “I can make it on my own!  I don’t need you!  I don’t need anyone!”

Then, without another word, he climbs in the car and drives away.

“Stop it!” Ford snaps at Bill, trying to ignore the squirming nervous feeling that’s taken root in his stomach.  “You’re a liar, Stanley wouldn’t just leave me!”

“Oh, he wouldn’t now?” Bill asks, and he pulls them both away from the scene again, quickly through a bunch of other ones— other dimensions, Ford supposes?  They’re moving too quickly for Ford to really look at what’s happening, but he gets a couple of clear images— Stanley punching him in the face, shoving him away from him, shoving him towards some kind of futuristic looking glowing triangle, yelling something in his face and then storming off and not coming back, and not coming back, and not coming back, and—

“Stop it!” Ford screams, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Stop it, stop it, I don’t wanna see!”

“Well, that’s not a good attitude to have, kid!” Bill says, still sounding incredibly amused by everything.  “I’m just trying to prepare you!  It’s gonna happen eventually, you should be ready for it!”

“It’s not, it’s not!” Ford protests, trying to pull his arm away from Bill’s again.  “Stanley’s not going to leave me, you’re a liar!”

Bill laughs again, but there’s something darker about it, and that something almost forces Ford to open his eyes.  Bill’s eye is glowing bright red now, and Ford doesn’t like the manic energy in it.  He tries harder to pull his arm away, but his wrist starts to strain in a way he doesn’t like.

“‘Course he is, Sixer!” Bill calls brightly.  “And you know why?”

He lets go of Ford’s hand, and Ford screams as he starts to fall into the air, but before he can get very far, Bill grows ten times larger and catches Ford in his left hand.  Ford tries to run and leap off the edge of the hand, but Bill just casually dumps him into his other one, and then back into his first, until Ford lands in his right hand dizzy and stumbling.  Bill shifts his grip until he’s grasping Ford tightly, and then brings him right up to his bright red eye.

“It’s because your brother realizes what you really are,” Bill says, his voice suddenly deeper and angrier.  “A washed up miserable failure who squanders all your potential.  A lonely freak whose most unique trait is something he didn’t even earn.”  Bill shifts his grip and pushes Ford’s arm up into the air, presenting his six fingers on full display.  It’s probably Ford’s imagination, but he can swear for a second he hears Stanley’s laughter.

“You’re nothing special, kid,” Bill says, leaning his enormous eye right into Ford’s face.  “And sooner or later, your brother’s going to realize it too.  I’m just making sure you’re ready for when everyone finally knows what a failure you are.”

“I—” Ford manages, trying to lean away.  “I’m not!  You’re wrong!”

Bill cackles.  “I got a couple dozen dimensions that prove me right, Sixer,” he says.  “But don’t worry, we can continue our tour another time.  Besides, you’ve got stuff to do.”

And with that, he tilts his head back, turns his one eye into a large, gaping mouth, and then tosses Ford up towards it.  The mouth snaps shut around him, and Ford screams.

…

He wakes up gasping and panicking, grasping for anything around him, some kind of way to pry Bill’s mouth open.  But his hands only meet empty air.  It takes him a second to realize he’s not being eaten by a dream demon, and is instead back in the attic.

He leans forward and drops his head into his knees, his breathing still way too short and shallow and panicked.

“St-Stanley?” he calls, trying to make it loud enough to get his brother’s attention.  There isn’t any response, and that increases Ford’s panic enough that he yanks his head up.

The sun is shining in through the window, and the attic is empty.

Ford scrambles from the bed and towards the steps, making his way down them as quickly as he can with how badly his legs are shaking.

He hears Stanley’s voice as he reaches the bottom of the steps, sounding like it’s coming from the kitchen.

“I’m just saying, reheated they’re never as good,” he says.  “Just how it is.”

“Oh, I see,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s rather amused voice.  “Well, if you want to make fresh pancakes every time you want to eat them, you go for it, but in the meantime, you’re asking an awful lot of me, buddy.”

“Excuse me, I’m the child?  That’s my job.”

Grauntie Mabel snorts with laughter.  Ford doesn’t want to interrupt them, and instead he leans back against the wall at the bottom step, trying to take a deep breath in.

“Just a nightmare,” he whispers to himself.  “Calm down, it’s just Bill trying to mess with you.  You’re okay.”

He stays there for a little longer, until his legs stop feeling quite so shaky, and then he pushes himself up.  He takes one more deep breath, and starts slowly towards the kitchen.

Stan is sitting with his back to him when he walks into the entryway, but Grauntie Mabel smiles at him from the place across from the door.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she calls.  “You’re up later than usual.  Want some pancakes?”

“Don’t bother, they’re reheated,” Stan calls, while shoveling another bite in his mouth, which makes for a bit of a confusing message.

Ford just nods in response to Grauntie Mabel, and when she climbs up to get a new plate and get the pancakes from the fridge, he walks forward and sits down in the open chair next to Stan.

“Hey, Sixer, great news!” Stan calls, grinning up at him.  “Now that we have an actual house back, Fiddleford’s dad is letting him come over and play again!  He called a little bit ago, he says he’ll be here after lunch!”

Ford gives the best smile he can manage.  “That’s awesome,” he says, hoping Stan can’t see right through him.

Stan has always been able to see right through him.

His smile dips into a concerned frown.  “Hey, you good?”

“Just a bad dream,” Ford admits.  “I… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Stan says, turning to face him a little more directly as he gives him his attention.

“Would you… I mean, if I…” he trails off, the same desperate panic from his nightmare starting to crawl its way up his throat again.

“Would I, if you…” Stan prompts.

Ford looks up at him, takes in Stan’s earnest concerned face, and realizes he can’t get the words out.

“Would you mind if we skip the monster hunting today?” he asks.  “I think I’m a little beat after all the stuff with Bud.”

Stan looks at him a moment longer.  “Sure, no problem,” he says after a second.  “But are you sure that’s what you wanted to ask?”

Ford clenches his hands into fists under the table.  “I’m sure.”

“Fresh reheated pancakes, at your service,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s voice, and Ford takes the distraction, turning with a smile and taking the plate from her.

“Thanks, Grauntie Mabel,” he says, and cuts up and shovels a bite in his mouth as quickly as he can.

Stan doesn’t say anything else, which is fine, because he doesn’t need to.  Ford can manage this all by himself, because Bill’s wrong.  He’s not a failure.

He’s gonna prove it, too.

[ssreeder]

I'm so looking forward to iroh and zuko properly talking and seeing irohs reaction to zuko being gay.

Like we all know he doesn't agree with the fire nation rn but how will he react?

Will he not support him cause sokkas a guy? Will he not support him because it's SOKKA? Will he accept him? Will he reveal he's known for years zuko was gay?

Especially with everything that happened with zhao, regarding to what jee said to bato on their date. (Which is a very understandable perspective, zuko just got out of this very sexually traumatising situation and almost immediately starts a relationship (his first relationship) with sokka, but then again it is a very unique situation)

One thing I love about some atla fics is how they portray the FNs thoughts on queerness, cause on one hand they were one of the only country's (I think) that treated men and women the same but then again it's also the fucking fire nation.

And I also think zukos whole canon arc can be very comparative to queerness,

His dads an asshole and after speaking out against him he throws him out, and zuko try's for 3 years to regain his father's love and acceptance, and then faced with the opportunity of regaining it takes it immediately regardless of who or what he may hurt (iroh, his own morals etc) but once he makes it back home realises how fucked up everything is and eventually confronts his dad and openly tells him he doesn't agree with him then runs aways.

I also wonder if iroh secretly knows jee is queer it doesn't seem that likely to me but it also is iroh so who knows.

<3

I do think Iroh’s reaction will be a big moment for not only the story but for Zuko’s character development. Right now, Zuko’s technically still a prisoner, holding himself there by assuming Iroh will not understand or judge him when in reality he’ll never know what his uncle is thinking until they TALK ABOUT IT. (Which the FN royal family is just sooo good at healthy communication I don’t understand why this is so hard for them lol?!)

I do agree that the suddenness of the relationship combined with the intensity from both zuko and Sokka is very alarming for people looking at it from the outside (I mean we all totally get it cause we were there but others are like uhhhh hmmmm ok this might be concerning) so I get them gossiping and wondering if this is truly real or what the fucks going on with those boys.

I love Zukos canon arc because there’s just so much about zukos story that can be relatable no matter who you are and I think that’s why he is a fan favorite (it doesn’t explain why we torture him the way we do but ehhhh it’s fine haha)

Hmmmmmm does iroh know Jees gay? Depends on how saucy those music nights got ;)

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

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