#i never noticed if there was a piano in either of their houses

[verlaineszz]

hi!! Can you write a yandere ghost dazai x human fem reader fic?

A/N: of course!! (✦ ‿ ✦) I've been actually meaning to write a ghost dazai but a yandere? Oohhhhh sounds great! :D, thanks for submitting this lovely request of yours anon(≧▽≦)!

YOUR SILHOUETTE A PALE MIST, BURY ME IN YOUR KISS!

ᯓ ⁺₊ ๋࣭ ⭑♡— YANDERE! GHOST! Dazai X HUMAN FEM! Reader!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ SUMMARY: Nearby a forest, there was a 1862 Victorian Mansion that still had strong walls and doors that stood strong against winds and storms. But there was something weird about the home, the past owners of the home were either found dead or moved out for good after just a week.

It was rumoured that it was haunted by a vengeful spirit, but no one dared to banish it or call in a priest.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ☠︎︎— HORROR + ANGST + SUGGESTIVE(?) + FLUFF

A/N: FINALLY A NORMAL REQUEST!! anyway, this fanfic may be abit long but apologies since you never really specified your preference for the fic but I'll try!! :D i haven't written yandere in a year so let's see what i can do. （＾ω＾）

𓂃 ࣪˖ ༒︎— WARNINGS : Blood, Death, Suggestive (?) , cursing, SLIGHT(???) GORE

You were currently moving in the old 1862 Victorian Mansion that was rumored to be haunted, obviously it was sold pretty cheap through the online site and the decor of it was absolutely marvelous, which made you not even care if it was haunted or not.. It was so cheap and so beautiful that how could you not buy it?..

The boxes of your things are already in your home and all you have to do is to unpack. You started unpacking and moving things around.

During your little unpacking session, you were gonna walk up the stairs but notice that there was this portrait shape that was covered with a red cloth that wasn't shown in the pictures online, you put the boxes down and decided to remove the cloth. When you slowly slipped the red cloth off the big portrait, there showed a man wearing a white jabot, blue and gold coat and a soft smile. This made you take a step back and look up and down to analyze the painting, the painting of the ridiculously attractive man.. Weird as hell!

You scoff and turn around to continue unpacking your things, but the second you turned around, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You ignored the feeling and continue unpacking.

While you were unpacking, dazai— the phantom of the house that is the original owner of the home was watching you, it was new to him.. A female unmarried tenant? This might be his best bet to scare the living shit of you, since he hasn't gotten a female tenant yet.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The unpacking was done and you were visibly tired, immediately crashing on the red floral patterned couch that was in the living room. The whole place looked old but aesthetically pleasing. There was a fireplace, a grand piano, a grandfather clock, bookshelf and a coffee table with a wood vase of belledonna. You sigu and cross your legs, tilting your headback, this scene wasn't unnoticed by the ghost of dazai osamu. He was watching you with curious intent, he was sure that he'd have you dead or gone in no time since he never liked anybody living in his home. But since you were.. Really pretty.. Why not toy with you for a bit before placing your life in a casket?

During the first night, you were there on the bed in your new room, scrolling on your phone before looking at the time, it was 9:56 pm..you gotta take a shower before going to bed since you had work tomorrow. You stood up and removed your clothing before grabbing a robe and entering the bathroom, you turn the water on and began showering, as you showered, you still felt a creep run down your spine, as if you were being watched.

In dazai point of view, he was staring at your bare face, he smirked and checked you up and down.. Seeing your hips, thighs, waist.. And... He chuckled silently, seeing you showering without a clue that you were being watched, he quickly left and decided to give you some privacy.

After showering, you slid into a thin night gown before laying down on the canopy bed and scrolling on your phone, but as you laid down it felt strangely cold, the windows were closed so how could this be cold? You wondered before the bedside lights started ti flicker, but you quickly dismissed it as old house quirks— "must be some random Victorian magic or something.." you mutter before you continue scrolling on your phone, dazai continued to observe you in the shadows, sometimes moving places from time to time to look like shadows were moving which you unfortunately did not notice.

He pouted as he noticed that you didn't see the subtle appearances he did before planning of a way to get a reaction out of you.

You put down your phone and decided to sleep, it was now 10:23 and you really needed sleep. You stare at the canopy beds ceiling before slowly closing your eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly, a sight that dazai found warm. He stared at you with a grin as the moonlight through the window shined upon your body.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧+

When you woke up, you felt like a hand was playing with you hair.. You immediately sat up straight and looked around, feeling spooked before taking a deep breath and getting out of bed to get ready to go to work then meet up with your boyfriend.

Whem you left, dazai stayed there, thinking about how to scare you even more, so when you left, he rearranged some of the stuff in yours house, small mischievous giggles came out of his mouth while doing so.

A few hours later.. The second you arrive back home and bring in your boyfriend, dazais expression from afar turned im disgust, obviously he didn't like other men in his house, especially when the man was with you when he just got a pretty lady in his humble abode!

your boyfriend wasn't really the most supportive person in the world or nicest.. He was just there, you didn't even know how you and him managed to get together when the whole relationship only felt one sided.

"This place looks.. Err.. Old.. You like this shit?" your boyfriend asked with a unimpressed look.

This left dazai pissed since he wasn't only in his house and taking you away from him but he was also insulting your choice in houses..

You and your boyfriend walked up the stairs to your room for some alone time, he sat there on your bed in a reckless way, he just laid there like he owned the place. He scrolled on his phone as you sit beside him on the right side of the bed and hug his arm, your boyfriend clearly couldn't care less which made dazai grumble silently in the corner of darkness.

You and your boyfriend were.. "cuddling" on your bed as he scrolled on his phone, probably lookin at other women before dazai got fed up and whispered something in his left ear to scare him— "get out, you scum."

Your boyfriends eyes widens a little, looking at you with a pretty annoyed look, "did you just call me something?.." he looked at you, visibly pissed, pushing your arm away from him. "What?? I didn't?" you replied back with an innocent look, dazai watched the scene, not wanting to resort to something else to not scare you away from him, he looks at your innocent face, though he can see you, both of you amd your boyfriend couldn’t see him.

"yeah right." your boyfriend scoffed, moving you away from him before he continue scrolling back on his phone, dazai clearly picked up that your boyfriend did not get the memo.

A few minutes later, your boyfriend stands up, eyes glued to his phone— "im gonna go find the bathroom."

When he found the bathroom, he did his business and started to wash his hands, The bathroom had a bathtub with gold stands, a small chandelier, a mirror, a silver faucet and a white and gold marbled sink, on the sink was some soap and a razors. The lights started suddenly flickering, your boyfriend scoffed in Annoyance. "why the hell did that bitch buy such a shabby old house..?!" he muttered while washing his hands before met with a cold feeling behind him, he ignored the feeling but it was obviously lingering. His eyes were just on his hands as he washed and washed and washed, he kept coating his hands with soap as he continue rubbing violently, the lights started flickering more frantically. "fuck"

A whisper was heard from behind your boyfriends back, "off", your boyfriend gulps as he washed his hands more violently, he couldn't move. He couldn't look up. He didn't wanna look at the mirror infront of him to see what was behind. "scum."

Your boyfriends eyes widens as he started to shake, he felt a hand wrap around his throat tightly, he looked up and saw nothing behind him but he felt something wrapped around his neck that was choking him. He coughed and coughed but when he looked down back to the running water and his hands, his hands were bleeding. Most of his hands skin was torn off, he looked at what he was holding and it was the blades. He hasn't been washing his hands the whole time.. He was getting cut.

He immediately sprinted out the bathroom, leaving the water and light on. You heard the opening of door bang againts the wall, you stood up from your bed and looked outside your room, by the time you went ouside your room, you saw your boyfriend sprint out of your house. "Hey! Wait! Where are you going!!" you yelled with a concerned tone, but when you yelled it, he was already gone. Your eyebrows furrowed in disappointment, your shoulders slumped, not understanding why he just left all of the sudden.

Dazai on the other hand was overjoyed. He even turned the sink and lights off for you to not waste water and electricity. Ah.. Only if you knew what he did.. He just saved you from your little toxic relationship, he really wanted to hear your voice praise him.

The day after that, you tried texting your boyfriend to only be met with blocked profiles and one messags, "we're done."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The haunting within your home escalates, multiple of your things was dissappearing or either misplaced somewhere.. There were nights where you'd be on your phone scrolling while comfortably laid down on your bed where you could hear whispers. It was either your name or threats— "Get out." - "[Your name], [Your name]"

It was a smooth deep voice that whispered subtly in your ear that gave you chills running down your spine, this honestly frightened you but you already paid full and moved all your stuff in so there was no way a little ghost or hallucination was gonna make you move out! Especially since this might've been the reasom why your son of a bitch boyfriend broke up with you, so.. why not keep the house?

The more you didn't budge through dazais antics, the more you pique dazais interest and attraction. You laid there on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you felt the vacant part of your bed get cold. You sigh— "does it always get cold whenever im not around?.." you mutter, still quite sad from the newly break up text before going back on your phone, suddenly one of your coats that was hung on the coat hanger on the side of room fell, you sigh in Annoyance and stood up, putting it back before you were met with a hand caressing your waist, "eek!" you squeeled before turning around to be met with.. Nothing.

You immediately ran back to your bed, hiding under the covers and forcing yourself to sleep, you stayed under the blankets, eye open and thinking about the situation. You're very sure now that it wasn't hallucinations and there really was something in your home, but the hand.. It felt human. It was cold but soft and gentle, not like the hands of your ex boyfriend.. You thought about more of the relationship between you and your boyfriend and realize that he never actually exchanged touches with you.. You were the one always handing it out but he never gave it back, this made your stomach hurl and you slowly slipped the blanket off of your upper body for air.. You stared at the canopy beds ceiling and tears left your eyes, "that bastard.." you mutter as you cried, you suddenly covered your face with your hands and groaned, turning to your side and cried in anger and sorrows.

The same gentle hands were on your waist, the hands that caressed you with deep devotion that you've never experienced before.. This is what you craved for.. You turn around and see nothing, you look around and you sit up, the room was dimly lit by the moonlight, casting a silvery glow over the old furniture. You wipe your tears before hearing a deep suave voice— "Don't cry now, bella.. Don't let tears stain your pretty face."

You feel your breath bunch up in your throat, "who are you?.." you mutter, trying to hide your fear.

"mm.. Nobody." dazai replies back, his voice was everywhere.. You couldn't tell where it was coming from.. If it was from left, right, front or from behind, the non visible hand on your waist slowly went down, giving a small squeeze to your hips before you woke up.

The sun was raised high as you looked at your window, you sit up and rub your eyes.. Was it all just a dream? Why did it felt so real? And why did you crave more of those little touches?..

The little touches that dazai gave you was subtle but full of devotion, he didn't even know that he would become so intrigued by you this quickly that he wanted to watch your every single move. He looked at you staring at nothing, perhaps you were in deep thought in his eyes..

He loved the way your lips would turn into a smile, he loved how your brows would furrow, he loved the way you breathed, the way you talked, the way you move, it was all fascinating to him.. He has been alone and lonely in the Victorian Mansion without any suitors..and you were visibly his type.

You started off you day with breakfast then taking a shower, you take off your clothes and looked at the mirror before hanging your towel, just when you were gonna turn around, you see a figure with brunette hair with their elbow on the sink edge and resting their face against their palm in a flash, you look back but nothing was there. You shrugged it off and continue to take a shower.

After showering and getting ready, you researched about the mansion and learned that there was an earl who used to own it but unfortunately died due to a murder, his name was dazai osamu, he was known to be popular amongst the ladies back in the 1860's before he died in 1872. You checked the pictures of him and it was exactly like the portrait by the stairs..

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Every single night became intimate, you always saw him in your dreams and you always felt like you were getting watched.. Which turned invasive, dazai just wanted every part of you.

Night after night, he always gave you touch without showing hisself, but you already knew what he looked like through the painting.. But what made you feel guilty was that you couldn't touch him back, though his touches were random at night, it still gave you chills.

You lay calmly on your bed, you stare at the canopy beds ceiling as the nonvisible hand moves the hair out of your face, this was weird.. And you knew you needed to end it some way somehow.

Dazais feelings of making you stray away or die were now completely gone, he just wanted you by his side. He wanted you to be his.

You move to your side and look up, only to be met with a young man with brunette hair, brown eyes and a gentle smile. Your eyes widens and you look at him, was this really him?.. He grins and he caresses your cheek, "Do you enjoy my company, bella?" he asked in a soft suave tone, your eyes quickly relaxes as you slightly blush— "i guess so."

RING! RING! RING! Aw.. It was your stupid alarm, you open your eyes and look to the side to be met with nothing.. This was the first time you genuinely saw his face up close in real life.. You sigh and get ready for your day to go back to work.

You get ready and go down the stairs, trying to find your keys.

Dazai on the other hand, was holding your keys, he didn't want you Going anywhere. You looked and looked and looked.. But to no avail, nothing. Your workplace was pretty far and since you were near the woods, little to no cabs were around so you decided to call in sick. You began undressing, removing your work clothes and slipping into something more comfortable...

Dazais plans were to stop you from leaving the house in every single possible way. Night falls dark and the moon had risen up, leaving a pale glow outside, you were currently trying to think of what houses would be possible to stay in to finally escape the ghost who played games with you but as you were thinking on your bed, you went on your laptop and you scrolled on homes that were available, while you were scrolling, the laptop immediately closed as a hand wrapped around your waist, feeling a cold aura behind you. "what were you looking at bella?" he rests his chin on your shoulder, you sat there frozen before turning to him and being met with his pretty face.. His pale skin and brunette hair was a criminal combination, his face was so close to yours as he hugged you tightly from behind.

"..." you couldn't muster up a sentence.. "You aren't thinking about leaving me.. Are you [Your name]?.." he looked at you with pretty eyes.

"i.. Was just looking at houses." you replied back with a half life half truth statement. Dazai clinged onto you, it felt oddly comforting.. "You know im just here to protect you, Right? I'll treat you waaay better than that little ex of yours, my dear." he whispered in your ear in a possesive tone, blush crept up to your cheeks as he held you tightly, you looked at him and his gaze fell onto your lips, he examined your pretty face, though he was dead, he felt oddly giddy because he gets to hold you while your pretty face was close to his.

"You'll stay with me, got it? You're mine and no one else's."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Dazais desire to be with you turned insanely strong, so strong that be believed in something obsessive, every day he'd find ways to try and painlessly take your life without even realizing it, you already knew. You walked around the halls in your home knowing that at any second, the ghost who haunted you could come and just swoop you, you were confused why he wanted to kill you? You thought he loved you.. So why did he want to kill you?

You decided to confront him about it. As soon as it hit nightfall, you laid down on your bed and waited for his presence to immerge since his energy was stronger during night, as you feel his soft cold hands touch you waist, you grab his hand and turn to him, "What the hell have you been trying to do..!?" you ask in an angered confused tone.

He looks at you with slightly wide eyes before reverting back to normal, "oh whatever do you mean bella?" he tried to play it off.

"Why have you been trying to kill me!?"

"... I love you okay? I'm doing all of this for you." he said sternly, holding your hand softly and kissing peppering it with kisses.

Eventually the two of you broke out into a fight, though he tried to explain hisself, he really didn't wanna fight you. He just wanted you to understand that all he has done was for you. And he wanted for you to understand.

He gripping onto your waist, burying his face on the nape of your neck, his expression soft but disappointed..

"you really dont understand, don't you? I love you. And i'll do anything just to have you as mine."

His tone was low but it gave a hint of obsession.

"Please. Just dont go.. I- i can't keep being alone in this place. You're all i have." he muttered, his voice slightly whiny but full of sorrows as he held you tighter.

You felt awful, he loved you like no other and treated you better than anyone of your exes, though he was dead, he would love to kiss your lips again and again.

He held onto you tightly as you kept quiet, sighing before replying back— "If you keep this up, I'll move out. I'm serious."

Dazais eyes widens and the words that left your lips broke him since his body was buried under his house, his soul couldn't leave the mansion whatsoever, "Please! I can't lose you. Not now, not ever! Please! Give me a chance!" he gripped onto your clothing, "i love you more than my own existence, you're the only thing keeping me feel alive again and sane in this place, this place feels like an asylum! Don't.. Go." his voice cracked as he pleaded for you, tears was already beaded on his tear ducts, he didn't want you to go, he felt lost like some puppy, he just wanted you to stay with him, eternally.

He was so obsessed that he wanted to bind your soul with his so you could be his, together and forever in the afterlife.

A/N: originally, i was planning to make dazai kill reader but today i wanted to leave a cliffhanger. Thank you for reading and i really enjoyed this request!! :D I'll try to get into more yandere themes so i could do better in the future, thanks again anon for this lovely request of yours （＾ω＾）

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

[blue--ingenue]

soft!sebastian headcannons - Christmas edition

Author's Note: happy holidays to all who celebrate! i've been making decorations and gathering gifts for my friends, and these thoughts have been floating around and demanding that i write them down :)

when he was little his parents told him that Santa Claus put coal into the stockings of naughty children. a few days before Christmas he and Anne were playing gobstones when she beat him in record time, and he swears she cheated. his twin denied this, of course, but he decided to take justice into this own hands. after everyone had gone to bed, little Seb had toddled downstairs to the fireplace. his magic was beginning to come in spurts; there wasn’t enough of it to channel through a wand, but his power sensed what he was trying to do and obliged. he watched as a still-smoldering chunk of coal floated over to Anne’s stocking, plopped inside, and promptly set it ablaze. nobody was harmed in the incident, but his parents later dedicated hours charming every inch of the house to be fireproof

once, before he began officially courting you, he felt incredibly jealous on Christmas eve. the annual Slytherin holiday party had been raging for hours, and would continue for many more. you, Ominis, and Sebastian had settled onto a plush carpet before the fireplace with three mugs of eggnog spiked with cheap firewhiskey. Ominis drained half his mug in one go, and emerged with a sizeable foam mustache. he was either too drunk to notice, or didn’t care, but either way Sebastian teased him for it. his laughter quickly died off as you gently wiped the foam from his top lip and licked it from your finger. Ominis had the sense to blush profusely, but Sebastian had seethed

by the next Christmas you are several months along into your courtship. he works nightly shifts for Sirona for weeks to save up for your gift. it’s a beautiful locket made of goblin metal (he commissioned it from a goblin artisan Sirona had told him about. after fifth-year he felt ashamed of his prejudices against goblins and has been trying to better himself). he’s pasted a picture of himself inside, and the exterior has an intricate carving of the Sallow family crest

he is absolutely the type of guy to kiss you under every mistletoe within a five-foot radius. if there are none in sight, he’ll simply conjure some on the spot

he never wears a hat when it’s snowing. despite the fact that the Scottish winters are brutal and he runs the risk of catching a cold, he refuses. Ominis scolds him every time, but he thinks it’s worth it when you take the time to brush the snowflakes from his curls on your walks to Hogsmeade

he has a love-hate relationship with baking gingerbread cookies. the whole process feels too much like being in potions. his patience isn’t long enough for all the measuring, mixing, and waiting for the biscuits to bake. he’d much rather pilfer treats from the kitchens, but when he sees how excited you are he makes it his mission to like the infernal process. you’ve conjured a lovely little kitchen in the room of requirement, and he’s all too happy to enchant the piano in the corner to play Christmas melodies

he absolutely makes a mess and then chases you around the table with flour-covered hands

his favorite part is cutting the dough into shapes. your cookies are impeccable, an army of gingerbread mooncalves, snowmen, and nifflers waiting to be slid into the oven. he tries to shape his into hearts. they look alright at first, but after baking they’ve melded into a series of blobs. he’s about to tell you to throw them out when you delightedly exclaim that they look just like the little puffskeins you’ve been caring for. he calls the night a success and you fall asleep together in front of the fireplace with a now-empty cookie plate beside you

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Taglist:@mlktea13, @mrsbrookesallow, @ithinkweallsing, @snickette, @crispywiz

[sillygoose067]

Charles’s Angel(s)

Ch. 36

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: SMUT-- oral(fem. receiving), fingering, nipple sucking, brief praise kink, mostly soft smut, lots of kissing, let me know if I missed anything.

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing smut. Was kinda skeptical while writing it so, yeah. Lmk if I should continue the scene in the next chapter or cut it off here.

Moving in with Charles was definitely an adjustment. You’d never believed all the sayings about living with men, but you understood now. Although, you knew that they came as a package deal, you were quickly learning a lot of new things about your boyfriend. He was relatively neat most of the time. He spent time streaming games with his friends. He liked to play the piano in his free time, or when there was a lot on his mind. He liked trying new recipes, even if he was a potential hazard in the kitchen (you made sure to keep an eye on him while he was in there). He liked to spend his time reading, cozied up in the loveseat, rather than on electronic devices. He loved to keep music playing around the house. 

Somehow, all of these little quirks made you fall in love with him a little more, no matter how frustrating he could be sometimes. 

Unbeknownst to you, Charles also noticed little things while accommodating you.

…

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ogling me?”, Charles asked, his back to you as he grabbed his clothes from the drawers, only in a towel. 

“Yes”

This makes him turn towards you. He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d be such a pervert, Cheri.”

“Yeah, well, I’m only a pervert for you.”

The other eyebrow goes up now, and his arms are crossed across his chest, a look of mild surprise on him. “I wasn’t aware you had such a dirty mouth– Or mind, for that matter– either.”

You shrug, a smirk playing on your lips. Within seconds, he’s in front of you, pulling your lips to his. Instinctually, your arms wrap around his shoulders, tugging him closer by the nape. 

You pull away, noses brushing, keeping your lips a hair’s breadth away from his, pulling back each time he tries to capture the soft tissue– teasing him. You bite your lip. 

“Charles?”, you whisper. It felt wrong to speak out loud in intimate moments like these. 

“What, Y/n?”. A frustrated puff of air against your lips. 

You chew your lip some more, hesitating. Charles pulls your lip from under your teeth, soothing the swollen skin with his thumb. He can’t stand it when you do that– it makes something wild in him come alive. 

“I think I’m ready. To go… all the way.”

You feel his breath stutter, and his grip on your hips tightens. Your eyes meet, and you can tell he’s searching for assurance. 

“Y/n baby, are you sure? You don’t need to rush. If you’re worried about my needs, don’t– I can take care of myself, I just want you to feel safe and certain–”

You cup his cheek and bring your lips together, shutting him up. “I want this Charles.”

When your lips meet again, you can tell that something’s changed in him. Your boyfriend moves the two of you more comfortably on the bed, only breaking momentum to tear off your tank top and shorts. You’re panting, hair spread around you like a halo. Charles crushes himself onto you, trying to deepen the kiss, and then you feel it. A thick, solid form pressing into your hip, and you gasp. “Is that…?”

Charles kisses the corner of your lip. “Yes. Is that alright?”

You whimper in response. Involuntarily pushing your breasts into him, arching to feel more of him against you. He kisses your face– nose, cheeks, forehead. “Can I make love to you, angel?”, he whispers against your temple. 

“Please”, you whine, chasing after his lips. 

He pulls away with a chuckle. Oh how the tables have turned, you think. “I need to hear you say it Y/n”, he says, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Yes, Charles, please. Want you”, you breathe against his lips. 

Without wasting a second, Charles’ arm reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. With one hand. You feel yourself beginning to soak your panties. Your breasts bounce free, and Charles pulls away, sitting up, his eyes wandering over you. You feel a blush creeping up at his scrutiny and move to cover yourself up, but your boyfriend is faster. 

“Never hide yourself from me, Cheri. You’re so beautiful”, he says as he moves your arms away, only to replace them with his hands, cupping your breasts. His touch is so warm, that you push the malleable mounds further into his grip, reveling in the featherlight brushes against your nipples. 

Charles kisses his way down to your chest, leaving a trail of lovebites. He brushes his thumb against a nipple, watching how it swells under his touch, and then flicks his tongue against the nub, leaving it glistening with spit. You shiver as the saliva cools against your skin– and then is enveloped in warmth. You let out a moan as you feel his mouth close around your breast, tongue playing with your nipple, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin. He treats the other nipple the same way once he deems that he’s spent enough time on one side. 

Pressing butterfly kisses up to your collar and nipping here and there, finally connecting lips with you, chuckling against them when you whine for him to hurry. “Let me worship you, my love.” you clench around nothing at the feel of the rumbling of his chest, the vibrations making your nipples tingle as they rub against his pecs. 

He makes his way down once again, down your sternum, down your stomach, all the way to the waistband of your panties. Fingers curling under the fabric, bunching it at your hips, he keeps his eyes on yours as he leaves a smattering of kisses right above your mound, slowly pulling the cloth down. He taps your hip to lift, and you do so nervously. Before removing your panties completely, he stops and checks with you again. “Are you sure you want to go through with this baby?”

With your lip caught between your teeth (a nervous habit), you take a breath and nod, attempting to stabilize your racing heart. Charles pulls the offending scrap off of you, tossing it somewhere to the corners of the bedroom, and you close your legs by instinct. He grabs your thighs and pulls them apart gently, his eyes never leaving yours, not until he’s settled comfortably between your thighs, arms wrapped around your hips, keeping your legs open. 

The scent of your arousal fills his senses and his eyes flutter shut as he brings his nose closer to the source, inhaling deeply, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. You bite back a whimper. His thumb rubs the spot a little above your clit, in a soothing motion. 

“I want your eyes on me, baby. I want you to watch how I worship you.”

This time you don't even try to hold back the whimper, gushing some more. 

It starts with a broad stripe up your folds, the sudden heat making you flinch and try to close your thighs, making him grip you tighter and move your feet to rest on his shoulders. Then, Charles uses his thumbs to separate the saturated folds, opening you up like a flower, holding the lips open as he licks once again, this time taking his time and tasting your nectar from the source, and ending his ascent up with a suck on your throbbing pearl. Your breath catches and your fingers curl into the bedsheets next to your hips. And then, your boyfriend commences the feast, eating you, drinking you up as if he’d been dehydrated for days. Your hips thrash against him, unable to decide if you wanted more or to get away from the assault on your pussy, back arching off the bed and deeper into his mouth, hands coming up to grip your pillow, teeth biting down uselessly on a finger, trying to keep sounds from escaping. Charles’ eyes never leave yours, watching what he does to you– that is until he runs his tongue over your clit and makes your eyes roll back. 

He pulls your hand away from your mouth. “I want to hear your sounds”, he says, and you’re not even sure if you can get wetter. Now uninhibited, you whimper and moan with every caress of his mouth. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue wriggle into your entrance. “Hands– Want to… want to hold your hand”, you whine as you reach down and make a grabby hand, and Charles intertwines his fingers with yours, smiling at your adorableness and pressing a kiss to the junction where your thigh met your labia. And then he goes back to business, smirking against you when he feels you squeeze his hand at his ministrations. 

Once he feels like he’s stretched you enough with his tongue, he pulls off. “Baby, I need to loosen you up to take me. I’m gonna add some fingers now ok? I need you to tell me if I hurt you.”

“Okay”, you pant. 

You feel one finger ease into you, and you flutter around the digit, trying to adjust to the foreign feeling. 

“Fuck. Are you alright?”

“Just a little uncomfortable. But… you can move.”

He pushes the finger deeper and then slowly works you open, feeling around your walls, trying to find your G-spot. Once you become accustomed to the feeling and feel the effects of the pleasure, you tell him to add another. With two fingers pumping into you now, Charles takes the chance to latch onto your clit again, and you let out a surprised shriek, which turns into a moan, the sensations building something deep in your gut. “Hnnng, baby– something’s– I can’t.” You’re no longer able to form coherent sentences. Charles increases his pace, feeling you get close, and your toes form points, the tips digging into his shoulder blades as your thighs, no longer held down, close around his head.

He pushes you over the edge and you cum, silently trembling, unable to make a sound, shocks traveling through your body as your boyfriend helps you through it. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re gripping Charles’s hand, back bowing off the bed and head pressed as far back as possible, another hand gripping the pillowcase, eyes rolled back and fluttering as you shake.

Charles cleans up your juices, pressing a gentle kiss to your now sensitive clit, then making his way up to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Good girl”, he whispers as he licks his fingers clean. “You taste like a dream.”

Once you catch your breath, you smile shyly. “Thank you. I think I like your fingers now.”

Realization flashes through Charles’ face as he remembers your words to him in LA. He grins and tickles you, sending giggles throughout the room. 

When he stops, you pull him down closer to you. “Can we fuck now?”

“No”

Your expression falls. 

“We can’t fuck now, but I can make love to you.”

A sigh of relief. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

A huff of air against your collarbone. “Oh love, you’ll know the difference when I fuck you.”

[starrydaycare]

Hey doll! Do you mind an OMORI agere, with regressor Aubrey and caretaker Basil? Maybe when they were twelve! I headcanon her as a trauma regressor and only Basil, Mari and Sunny know. Also, with a late 90s aesthetic!

Thaaaank you for all the moodboards you make, they are all really good. (^^)

I can do that! Also, thank you (⁠.��� ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

With filter:

Without filter:

🍀🩷Age regressor!RW Aubrey, CG!RW Basil, Pre-incident!

⚠️TW! Will contain mentions of alcoholism and neglect.

🩷Aubrey is a trauma regressor who most commonly regresses to somewhere between 5-7. Though if she had a bad day, she can regress younger! Despite her older age, she likes to use a pacifier and sippy cup for comfort reasons.

🍀She started regressing at around nine, but didn't really know what it was? She was really confused and scared the first time it happened, which was she stepped on some glass from an old bottle of her moms.

🩷She noticed that it continued happening, and for the longest time she thought that something bad was happening! So, eventually she gathered up the courage to tell Mari about it.

🍀Luckily, Mari knew exactly what it was. She was familiar with age regression, and explained to her that it was alright. The group didn't know exactly what Aubrey's home life was like, but they knew it wasn't very good. So Mari assumed it was likely due to whatever went on in Aubrey's house.

🩷Mari, as per Aubrey's wishes, promised not to tell anyone about her regression. And she kept that promise; though she assured her that no one in their group would judge her <3

🍀So she kept it a secret for a few years, until one fateful day at around twelve years old, she started feeling that familiar feeling which told her that she was regressing. Basil and Sunny were with her at the time, as Mari couldn't come (Piano lessons), Kel and Hero were both sick, so that left Sunny, Basil and Aubrey alone.

🩷Basil and Sunny could tell that something was up, but dudn't push it. They continued walking, noticing how Aubrey had been pretty quiet. Yeah. That quietness was her being regressed and attempting to hide it. Sunny recognized her regression after a moment, as he was also familiar with it! He told Aubrey that he knew, and she practically lit up like a light (/positive).

🍀Basil overheard them, and, much to her and Sunny's surprise, he also knew what it was. He was a little nervous, but wanted to help her! So they went over to the park, played a bit, and things just kinda went on from there.

🩷Basil became her primary caregiver, with Sunny and Mari babysitting at times. Basil really enjoys taking care of Aubrey when she's regressed! He was nervous and anxious at first, because he's never taken care of a kid before! But he did just fine, much to his relief.

🍀Basil likes to garden with Aubrey. He got her one of those kiddie garden sets, with kids gloves, kids outdoor toys, ect, and she likes to help him when regressed. She can't really do that much while regressed, but she can hand him stuff and watch! Often times she'll talk about her day to him, about her interests and everything. Basil loves listening to her, and gladly lets her help him.

🩷Basil's great at playing with her! He's not very good at sports, due to a lack of practice (and interest), but he'll play sports with her if she wants to do so! Most of the time they'll just color or go to the park. If the ice cream truck's outside, then they like to go get ice cream then play outside together! Aubrey likes playing with chalk and playing hopscotch. When it rains they'll either play inside, coloring and watching TV and playing with various kids toys that Mari and Sunny generously let her borrow, or they'll go outside and jump in the puddles!

🍀Aubrey opens up to Basil about her home life, how her mom isn't awake a lot unless she's drinking or working, how it's messy and smells bad... Basil helps her through it, holding her close and playing with her hair as she vents to him. He'll make sure she has her stuffed animals and anything else she may need. He's not the best cook, but can make her something yummy to snack on.

🩷Overall, Basil's a really good caregiver to Aubrey. They're very close, and Basil's always there for her.

🍀🩷🌻

[rallamajoop]

Did Ethan play the piano?

There are a bunch of little hints scattered through these games about Ethan's character. He seems to have a love for the retro ‒ at least, his drawer is full of jazz CDs and he drives a 1971 Dodge Challenger. As Rose notes, he's clearly a wine drinker. And he may have played he piano.

I don't want to overstate the hints RE7&8 give us on that last part. Resident Evil is, after all, a universe where apparently being able to bang out a full sonata at a moment's notice is just a basic life skill for anyone who might want to infiltrate a suspicious facility (though just jamming a few bars of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star may also do in a pinch).

There's a piano in the Winters' home, but then, maybe Mia's the one who plays, or maybe the BSAA set them up in an already-furnished house ‒ who knows? You can't actually interact with it as Ethan, nor does Rose comment on it. But Rose does wonder out loud if her Dad played any instruments (after he jokes about whether baby Rose banging her spoon to the Miss D. record suggests she's going to grow up to be a musician) ‒ and that at least primes you to notice that piano, if you hadn't already.

There are also two different pianos you can interact with in the Baker property ‒ one in the guest room, which will slam shut if Ethan reaches for the keys, and a second in Lucas' room that merely prompts the message 'it's broken'.

It's not until Dimitrescu's castle that Ethan himself finally gets to make like all those other Resi heros, and bash out a quick solo to open a mini door in the piano, in which you'll find a key that will open another door... look, you've heard this one before.

There's an argument to be had whether any of the puzzle solutions in a video game like RE should be taken as truly diegetic. But if nothing else, this does at least suggest Ethan can read sheet music. Here's the asset for the sheet, by the way (and again with the bit you actually play highlighted). You can hear someone play the full song ("Sogno" ‒ which means 'Dream' in Italian ‒ by Francesco Paolo Tosti) here.

There's even a version with lyrics, though I doubt they necessarily meant much to whoever picked this piece for the game: more likely it was chosen for being a song with a very simple treble clef (so the player doesn't have to do too much work to solve the 'puzzle') but a much more complicated bass (so it still sounds sophisticated when played). Regardless, you can hear it sung here.

There's also one other little clue that might suggest that someone in the Winters' household has some real musical leanings: one of the CDs you can find in that drawer is titled 'Jazz Standard Theory'. Which sounds a lot more like an instructional CD than easy listening (though they're certainly not winning any prizes for those other titles).

Actually, while we're talking Ethan's CD collection, here's the asset for that Miss D & the Pallboys CD too! Surprisingly, it has a back as well, suggesting that at some point you might have been able to pick it up and examine it. The text is all pretty illegible, however.

(I've talked before about the theory that 'Miss D' is actually Lady Dimitrescu, but if you want the short version ‒ given that she's not from the village and is 'descended from a fallen noble', this one's surprisingly plausible!)

Hilariously, a love for jazz might just be one thing Ethan has in common with the Bakers, given you can find some records lying around the rec room upstairs.

Mind you, even RE2R managed to work a jazz festival flyer into this one puzzle solution...

Does someone in the team at Capcom have a thing for Jazz? Evidence is starting to stack up...

But getting back to our original topic, does Ethan play the piano? You can make a case either way, as the game never tells us explicitly. But there's enough here to point that way that I'd like to think he does, anyhow.

Which only makes the implications of this so much more tragic.

[leaawrites]

Late Night Talking pt2

Ryan McMahon x fem!reader

Summary: where a childhood crush finally turns into love.

Warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking

Part 1 flopped completely, but idc. I already wrote it all, so I may as well just post it.

Part 1, Part 3, Masterlist

The lights were low. It was almost dark, except for the red-blue LED all around the place and the mirrorball hanging from the ceiling, reflecting it’s glow on the people beneath.

She stared at it, as if it was her bare existence. Every little shimmering piece pierced through her heart like a dagger. Every piece was a piece of her. One that she lost the day he left. And they were all so damn perfect. Cut out in the right shape, puzzled together and glued so they won’t fall apart again. In contradiction to her. She was falling apart as she sat down on the coach in the living room of a house she didn’t know the owner of and noticed the all too familiar boy approaching her.

“Y/n?” Elijah Hewson called out to her.

She tore her eyes away from the mirrorball and watched as the boy made his way through the crowd of people. Pushing his way towards her free. A girl, holding his hand, following him suite. Y/n watched the pair as they sat down next to her. Elijah pulled her into a side hug, while the girl only smiled at her kindly.

“If Grace hadn’t pointed you out, I wouldn’t even have noticed you,” he said, gesturing to the brunette next to him as he introduced her as Grace.

“You’re his girlfriend?” Y/n asked Grace. The girl nodded, holding out her hand for Y/n to shake. “I’m Y/n,” she introduced herself, “an old friend of the lads.”

“I know,” Grace said, making her frown in confusion. “Ryan talks non-stop about you, and he shows pictures while he does so as well. It’s basically a whole PowerPoint Presentation by now.” Grace laughed at the memory of that one time, when they were sat in the tour bus, all high and out of their mind.

Ryan was half eye-lid, floating in his own orbit until he saw her face next to his. As he reached out to touch her cheek, he was quickly pushed away by a scared Rob who was the victim of Ryan’s dreams. He mumbled her name, whining about why she didn’t love him the way he loved her.

“Yeah, Ryan is unbearable if you’re not by his side,” Eli added, looking at her like he knew that she felt the same way towards his band mate. Because, of course he knows. The stolen glances, lingering touches, hidden and subtle references in songs both parties would let slip in every now and then.

Y/n wasn’t as talented as the lads when it came to singing or playing an instrument. She played a bit piano and the guitar, but that was it. However, she was a genius when it came to song-writing. And Eli, being the unpolitical best friend of hers, was the only one who knew.

Josh would be too caught up in his own mind and trying to find a rhythm for his guitar, for him to check what and who the song was about. Bobby would just be cheeky and leave little traces of her secret all around Ryan until he knew what she was doing behind his back. And Ryan, he would know by reading them. There were memories and promises tangled in between soft chords and love confessions that only the two would understand, which made it impossible for her to show them to him. But Eli could keep quiet and he knew who it was about the second he read them.

He had tried to get both parties to confess before, but he never said anything about the songs they wrote for each other.

“Is he here?” She asked, trying not to sound too nervous about the answer. Either way, she would start to over-think. What was he doing here? Or what did he do instead of being here?

“I think I saw him outside the last time,” Grace told her.

The girls shared a look that they knew was a secret code for having each others back from now on. Y/n thanked them before walking off into the crowd, searching for the glass door in the kitchen that would - hopefully - lead her to where she wanted to go.

The humid air outside made the glass fog up. People were dancing to the Abba song that played in the background, but she was only focused on him. Ryan left with the band a few months ago, focusing on tour in America and not Ireland or even Europe. And with uni, she couldn’t go with them.

Though the worst part was how civil they parted ways. There were no fights or arguments. No one threw a tantrum that they wouldn’t see each other for a couple of months. There was nothing she could cling to that would make her hate him. There were no words that made her want to throw up and blame it on him. She couldn’t hate him and she hated that.

A cloud of white smoke swam over his silhouette as Y/n made her way outside. Ryan was sat at the pool, his shoes and socks sitting beside him, his jeans was folded up so it wouldn’t get soaked. She debated for a moment whether to go back in or sit next to him, when Ryan suddenly turned to her.

He hadn’t expected her. He didn’t know who he expected, but it definitely wasn’t her. His eyes lit up as he saw her and before he could stand up, she was already sat beside him. With her legs pulled tight against her chest, she watched him. Watched every detail that might’ve changed about him. His hair was shorter and he had grown a subtle beard, but it looked good. He looked really good.

“Hey,” she greeted him, sending a small smile his way. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“Why not?” He asked.

They fell into their old pattern of conversation rather quickly and maybe that should’ve scared her. But it didn’t. It was Ryan. Nothing about him could scare her.

“Well, firstly I thought you were still on tour and second, what are you, new Rock star, doing on a college party in Dublin?” She asked, laughing at the weird concept of their conversation.

“Bobby knows someone and because we were all too tired to say no to him, we’re here now,” he explained, flicking part of his cigarette away.

“How are you doing?” She tried to keep the conversation up.

“Fine. Wouldn’t say particularly good. It has been quite tiring and I actually just wanna go to sleep, but I don’t have someone to drive me there,” he explained his situation, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to make the sleep disappear. “I should’ve listened to my mom when she told me not to go.”

Y/n laughed, a sense of comfort growing in her chest as she listened to the boy talk. She always loved hearing his voice close to her body, always loved having him for her alone. Not in a creepy obsessive way, but just in a way that made her feel like they were the only people in the world and he was willing to spent his left time with her.

“How is she?” She asked, not having heard from his mother in a long time.

Ryan was sleep deprived and a bit drunk, which made him forget to think before he would talk. Which lead to him saying, “Good, still insisting on knowing when we get married.”

He said it with such calm and confidence as if they have ever talked about getting married before.

“What?” Y/n asked, looking at the water rather then his eyes that seemed to be stuck on her.

“My mom always believed that we would get married at some point. I stopped denying it after we were like 15.” He blew the smoke away, watching it dance through the cold night air.

“Why did you stop denying?” She asked.

“I guess I kind of got comfortable with the though, at like 18 and at 15 I just prayed she would stop talking about it with relatives or anyone else she would talk to in a pub.” He laughed like it was nothing in his eyes.

“Do you wanna come over to mine?” Y/n asked, not seeing another way out but keeping him close. “You can sleep on the coach or whatever. It’s closer than yours, so that’s a plus.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. Standing up he was stomping his cigarette out before holding out his hand for her to take.

Together they walked out through the crowd, seeing Rob while doing so and telling him they would go - to which he only wiggled his eyebrows and patted Ryan’s back. They walked to her car without saying a word. All while holding hands. When Ryan went to the passenger side, he only noticed their interlaced fingers and laughed merely at the fact.

They drove home in utter comfortable silence.

[justsomewritingblog]

Unrequited Love (Part 3)

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Pairing:  Adrien/Cat Noir x reader (unreciprocated)

Summary:  Adrien and Y/n draw.

Warnings:  None?

A/N:  *dramatic music*

Word Count:  1K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n wandered over to her locker, replacing her books.  She let out a breath through her mouth in a sigh.  She bowed her head and closed her eyes in defeat, shutting the locker door.

“There you are.”

Her head shot upwards, eyes growing wide.  She turned to her left, being met with green eyes.

“Oh, it’s you.”  Y/n whispered, more relaxed.

“Who else would it be?”  Adrien asked.  Y/n let out a small humorless laugh.

“Yeah.  Who else?”  She muttered under her breath.  She knew he didn’t mean it as an insult, but he could have worded it better.

“What?”  Adrien asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Nothing.  How’s Marinette?”  Y/n asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, she’s fine; just very clumsy.”

It seemed to work.

“I see.”  The two became silent for a moment.

“So, I’ll see if I can talk my father into letting you come over to practice piano.”  Adrien announced, breaking the slight tension.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you, or your father.”  Y/n admitted.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

~Plagg, claws out~

“Absolutely not.”

“But, father-” Adrien started to protest.

“I will not have a near stranger in this establishment.”

“But I told her I would teach her piano.”

“Well you’ll just have to tell her no, or figure something else out.”

Adrien sighed in defeat, hanging his head.

“Yes, father.”  He said, walking out and closing the door behind him.  He walked to his room and collapsed on the bed.

“Now what?”

Plagg flew out from his jacket.

“I don’t know.  He said she was a near stranger.”  The kwami noted.

“So I’ll just have to get to know her better!”  Adrien exclaimed, a huge smile on his face.  His face fell.  “How do I tell her I can’t teach her yet?”

“Be honest.”  Plagg advised.  Adrien sighed.

“But I feel like I’d be cheating her.  What if she insists on teaching me to draw when I can’t teach her piano?”

The kwami shrugged unhelpfully.  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”  He remarked, stuffing another piece of cheese down his throat.  Adrien rolled his eyes.

“Helpful.”  He remarked sarcastically.

~Claws in~

Adrien walked up the steps to the school the next day.  He wandered around looking for any sign of Y/n.

“Where could she be?”  Adrien wondered aloud.  Plagg stuck his head out of Adrien’s jacket.

“Where does she usually hang out?”

“I don’t know.  I only met her yesterday.”

“Well, good luck.”  Plagg offered.  Adrien sighed and shook his head.  He wandered all over the school until he entered the classroom.  He looked around and saw Y/n sitting in her seat in the back, sketching.  Adrien smiled and made his way up to her.

Y/n saw his shadow and looked up, pulling the earbuds out of her ears.

“Hey.”  He greeted.

“Hello.”  She answered quietly, smiling.  Adrien sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry, but my father thinks I should get to know you better before you enter our ‘establishment’.  How lame is that?”  He explained, using quotation marks, sitting down next to her.  She smirked.

“I don’t blame him.”

Adrien looked up at her in confusion.

“Would you like a stranger in your big, expensive house with expensive things in it?”  She asked.  Adrien smiled.

“I never thought of it like that.”  He said, folding his arms on the desk in front of him.  Y/n smiled.

“Your dad’s probably just taking precautions.  We can’t be mad at him for it.”

Adrien smiled.

“You’re so understanding.”  He noted.  Her cheeks turned a shade of scarlet, but she pretended not to notice.  She hoped if she didn’t notice, he wouldn’t either.

“I’m observant.”  She clarified.  “I see things, and based on what I see, and know about that person, or thing, make a reasonable guess.  It’s really not that special.”

“If you say so.”  He said.

“So, what did you want to draw?”  She asked him.

“Oh, uh.  I don’t know.  I didn’t really think about it.”  He confessed.  Y/n looked out the window and saw a small creature fly by.

“How about a ladybug?  That’s a pretty easy start.”

Adrien looked to her and shrugged, slightly pink.

“Sure.”  He chuckled nervously.  Y/n smirked and playfully rolled her eyes.

“So, start with a circle.  For a perfect circle, place your finger and pencil down, and turn the paper.  Like this.”  Y/n advised, showing him.  He nodded and followed her guidance.  It wasn’t a perfect circle, but it was close.

“Good.”  Y/n complimented.  “Now draw a semi-circle for the head, using the same method, just don’t turn the paper all the way around.”  She showed again, and Adrien did as instructed.  Y/n looked over at his paper and smiled.

“Perfect!”  She exclaimed.  Adrien smiled down at the paper in pride.

“You think so?”

“Of course!  Now we draw spots using more circles.”  She said, drawing spots.  Adrien followed and he drew spots.  They weren’t perfect circles, but they were close enough.

“Now we draw the line for the wings when they open them.”  She explained drawing a simple line down the back of the ladybug.  Again, Adrien followed.

“Now the legs and shading.”  They drew the legs, but when it came time for shading Adrien’s pencil stopped an inch above the paper.  Y/n looked over at him.

“What’s wrong?”  She questioned.

“Just nervous.”  He admitted.  Y/n smiled softly at him.  She reached over and placed her hand atop his, pressing it gently onto the paper.

“You can’t get better if you don’t take risks.”  She advised.  Adrien nodded and began shading in the dots, head, and legs first.  Y/n smiled and glanced up at the clock, seeing 7 minutes till class.  A few people were just starting to enter.  Y/n quickly shaded in her ladybug, and shaded the paper beneath it.

2 minutes till class.  Adrien sat his pencil down and looked proudly at his paper.  He looked to Y/n’s and his eyes grew wide.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Y/n.  It looks like it’s coming off the page!”  He commented.  Y/n looked down at it and observed her own piece.

“It’s just shading below it.  Yours looks good, too.”

“Not nearly as good as yours.”

“Practice.  You’ll get better.”  She said, smiling.  She quickly glanced at the clock again.

“You’d better get to your seat.  Class is about to start.”

Adrien looked up at the clock and his eyes widened.  He quickly picked up his stuff.

“Thanks, Y/n.”  He said, holding his things.  She smiled and nodded at him.  “No problem.”

He smiled back and headed to his seat.  Y/n slid her drawing things back into her bag and pulled out her literature book, ready for class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n:  Repost!

Tag List:  @hitsugayarose, @pokengirl2, @lovableah, @1-800-starkindustrie, @jesssssmaybankk, @meikoo, @yunho-leeknow

[endlich-allein]

Till Lindemann from "Rammstein" turns 60

Good man

Von Flake Lorenz

3. Januar 2023

Till Lindemann, "Rammstein" singer and lyricist, turns 60. Congratulations from his longtime friend and keyboardist.

Actually, one would not have to wait for a milestone birthday to honor this wonderful person. You could just pause and pay homage to the force of nature on any other evening. It may also be that Till Lindemann's birthday this Wednesday is not true. Even when Bravo reported about Rammstein for the first time in the early 1990s, our dates of birth were completely out of thin air. We were way too old for the Bravo target group back then, so the editors simply made us a few years younger. That wasn't a problem because the internet was still empty.

We soon realized that it doesn't matter how old you really are. Much later, when Rammstein became successful, being old was even better. You can deal more calmly with all that nonsense and enjoy your happiness in peace. Also, a person's age is just in the eye of the beholder, at least I don't know anyone who would call themselves old. On the other hand, I can still remember how, as a young musician, I couldn't calm down when I found out that the guitarist in a band I was friends with was over 30 years old. "He can still make music?" I asked. Men over 50 were half-dead, bleating grandpas in ugly brown clothes, they were every teenager's natural enemy.

It's 1986. Till turns up the system. I'm worried: What will the neighbors think?

Till seemed old to me when I met him. That was in the mid-1980s in East Germany. Till was not only older than me, in contrast to me he was already really grown up. He lived in his own house while I was still in my parents' room and didn't even have a girlfriend. I saw Till for the first time in 1986 in a Schwerin club after a Feeling B concert. I immediately noticed him: Till was a tall, strong man who on the one hand exuded natural authority, but at the same time seemed very shy. We didn't hesitate when he offered to take us home with him. His house in the country near Schwerin seemed like paradise to me, it was incredibly comfortable, probably because he had set it up that way himself; he had knocked out the walls between the rooms and left only the half-timbering. The volume on his system was turned up to the limit, the Sisters Of Mercy screamed from the cheap speakers.

I had never dared to do anything like this in my life. What would the neighbors think? When I wanted to play a song on the piano in between, Till simply carried it for me to another room where it wasn't so loud. At some point we all fell asleep where we sat and stood, like in Sleeping Beauty, and when I woke up the next morning, I imagined what it would be like if you always lived like Till. I really liked this idea.

Of course, his life wasn't a one-stop party. He also lived in the house because the argument with his father, who was not exactly frail, had escalated beforehand. Till had hit his father, the children's book author Werner Lindemann, with such a punch that he flew into the strawberry bed. Then Werner Lindemann threw Till's things out of the skylight. Life in a sports boarding school and training as a carpenter in Rostock were no fun either. Later, as a single father, Till lived with his daughter Nele in his nest, which in turn probably saved him from being drafted into the army. Till always seemed and always seems in a good mood to me – a bit like Obelix, of course not in terms of stature, for God's sake, he looks more like Arnold Schwarzenegger, but in terms of personality he's more like Obelix. Always according to the motto: "Friends, I have a plan, let's go here and there and break everything to pieces!"

Practical: He could change a wheel on the Trabi without using the jack

When the wall was suddenly open, Till drove to Lübeck with a couple of friends and spent all the West money he had saved and exchanged on gummy bears. He sat in a doorway and ate them all. Of course, he also manages a wild boar – it was an advantage back then that he lived so close to the railway embankment. When a waiter asks Till if he liked his food, he usually replies: "Yes, thank you, it was plenty." Incidentally, he also shares Obelix's great love of small dogs. Since Till is with (allegedly) Francis of Assisi, who wrote: "The dog remains loyal to me in the storm, man not even in the wind."

And like Obelix, Till seems to have fallen into a magic potion, because he really has tremendous powers.

At that time he could change a wheel on the Trabi without using the jack. In the old days, when we had to work as stewards at an open-air festival, Till just banged his fist through a car window to hold the driver down.

If Till sees any body of water, he immediately plunges into it and plows through it like a motorboat. He tucks the boxes that we carry in the studio or in the rehearsal room under his arm alone.

If a door is locked somewhere, he just sticks me through a second-story window so I can open it all from the inside.

I've never met anyone who is so pragmatic about music and lyrics. Till would never have originally thought of becoming a singer. Although he observed that musicians in Schwerin had a hit with women and then played drums in a punk band - but in all those years I really never had the feeling that punk music particularly interested him. An effective and well thought-out stage show was always more important to him. For example, Till once put chickens in the bass drum and only pulled the cloth away after the first song, causing the animals to tumble across the stage.

Cheering crowds, prizes and honours: All of this actually leaves him completely cold

When Till was supposed to sing with us, it was very difficult for him at first, because as a singer you can't hide behind an instrument or another musician. Then he put on welding goggles so that he looked like a friendly insect. Till sang beautifully, deeply and soothingly. We stopped worrying immediately. Everything would be fine. We just needed good lyrics. So Till sat down to write them. He never pretends to be a great artist who needs to express his deep feelings. He prefers to think about what else can be lit on stage (like me). The concerts used to be a lot of fun. At that time we always looked for an attractive village inn first, in order to eat as much as possible. Only then did we set up our stuff and play.

Till loves women - and women love him. But how he manages to go through his life completely free of any affectation, even after 37 years, still arouses deep admiration from me. Cheering crowds of spectators, prizes and honors actually leave him completely cold. Organizing a party for our entire crew seems to be more important to him than any concert. Incidentally, he has renounced his rights as a lyricist for decades, so that all six of us at Rammstein earn exactly the same. In any case, Till has extended the life of the band, because money is usually the trigger for a breakup. He, on the other hand, has a very decisive influence on our band with his lyrics and his voice.

So we can still successfully defend our small East German village. By Teutates! May the sky never fall on Till's head!

(I'm not sure of this whole translation so feel free to correct me)

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG- Music To My Heart pt. 2

summary: you helped yoongi get past a musical block, he finally shows you the song but it was nothing like you’d expected.

part 1

It was exactly two weeks before the countdown for the song had begun, army going crazy over the teaser for the new single Dawn, yoongi had been in higher spirits ever since that night in the studio. He had even asked you to go yourself, calling your presence a blessing to his artistry.

The usual before a song release would be yoongi waiting around Hybe, either hidden in his studio or in the company of another member. Very rarely would he be home to watch a release unfold so you knew it must have been a special occasion when he stayed in the apartment with you, moving you both to the couch to join the countdown for the music video.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, nodding towards the timer on the flatscreen.

He continues to pet Holly who situated himself in between you both, paws tucked under the blanket covering your legs. “I don’t like to think too much about these things, this song is just one I particularly liked so I feel excited. It’s not like I can go back and change it.”

“You should be so proud of yourself, you worked hard for this and the fans will know that.” You shifted closer to him, hand reaching out to massage the base of his neck.

He leans into your touch, eyelids fluttering. “I’m nervous for you to see it.”

“Don’t be, did you forget I’m number one in min yoongis fan club.” You laugh lightly.

He shakes his head, not enough to disturb your soft moulding of his skin. “There’s a million people who would have different opinions.”

“Yeah, and Jungkook would be the first one in line to do that.” You sigh dramatically, causing you both to laugh.

The rapper shrugs his shoulders, smirking. “What can I say I’m an idol of idols.”

“Min Yoongi have you no shame or has it all disappeared because of the “big house, big car and big rings?”

He buried his face in his hands, flushing red with embarrassment as he laughs at the old lyrics. “Stop it.”

“Oh, it’s starting!” You shout excitedly, nudging him to face the screen. “I can’t believe you didn’t let me hear it before now.”

Regardless of your continuous badgering and occasional bribery, he wouldn’t let you hear the song, declaring you could only listen to it once the music video had been released. You’d given up after he locked you out of his studio for two days.

The soft melody began playing, the music video starts out in flashes of black white and grey. Your eyes are glued to the screen.

“Is that?” You noticed the soft humming tone he had made you record, playing over the sound of a piano.

“It’s you.” He responded, you didn’t question any further wanting to take in the entirety of the song.

The music video shows him travelling through some sort of timeline, images of the locations you’d met at and been on special dates to flickering in the background. The lyrics caused you to tear up, the words being more meaningful than anything you’d ever heard before.

“Oh, I'm runnin' round in a daze

We been walkin' so many ways

Feels like my heart's about to burst

Can't you see the take two?

Stories unfoldin' just for you

Youth with you by my side

Take my hands now”

The last verse came on and you broke, drawing in a choked breath as you pull his hand closer to you.

“It was possible because I was with you

I was happy being with you

I breathe in your voice

I stood up with your tears

Do I deserve your love?

The intersection of souls we've created over the years

I am so grateful and happy to be with you

Let's continue to be happy in the future”

You noticed the grainy picture of you two in the background, neither of your faces showing but you remembered it anyway, it was the day he had asked you out.

You wiped your face as the song came to a close, the last notes being the song you always whistled whenever you were cooking.

You’d never heard something so powerful, you’d never heard a song that held so much meaning and although you were an avid fan of the entire bts and agust d discography this was by far the most beautiful song you’d ever heard. The message being clearly a one of devotion, love and thanks. Something you often realised you’d never understand so clearly if you hadn’t met the man beside you.

As you turn to face him you realise how eyes are trained on you, you doubted he had watched a moment of the music video. “It was so beautiful.”

He ran a hand down the side of your face, wiping away a stray tear. Search the song.”

“What?” You gave him a puzzled look pulling out your phone.

As you typed the title into Naver a ton of results followed, mostly articles about the release of the song. “Now what?”

“Search the credits.” He laughed, watching your eyes.

You did as he instructed and began reading through them. You went stoic with shock as you see the word “ace” below the melody section.

When you’d first met each other he had always called you that because he said you were the ace of multitasking. Dealing with your own job and supporting him at all times whilst making him his favourite foods whenever you could.

“Yoongi I don’t know what to say it’s all so perfect.” You began crying again and this time he brought you closer to him, careful to mind the sleeping dog as he pulls your head to his neck.

“I wanted to thank you for everything these past few years. For being my best friend and accepting partner, for loving me and the members. I’ll never not be grateful to have you.” It’s only when you pull back you realise he too has tears in his eyes.

You lean in to kiss him, the action speaking louder than words. “I love you Min Yoongi.”

“I hope I can spend the rest of my life with you.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You kiss his head in return earning a smile.

“You really are something.” He laughs, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Wait until your number one fanboy Jungkook finds out you made a song about me.”

He rolls his eyes, fake groaning. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You humm, tapping your chin dramatically.“You won’t but neither will I.”

“And why is that?” He raises an eyebrow, cockily.

“Because I’m yours forever.”

[tword-brainrot]

One Thought 💭

House provokes Wilson into getting what he wants…or does he?

(This is also prompt number 36 on the prompt list that I’ll be tagging in my pinned)

Lee: House 🏡

Ler: Wilson 🖊️

Word count: ≈2000

“You’re doing this on purpose…”

An already annoyed Wilson drew, his fingers tapping against his desk.

“I’m doing nothing of the sorts, you absolute wack job.”

House retorted, a smirk making its way across his face.

“Yes you are, you’ve been way more annoying than usual…”

Wilson gritted through his teeth..

“Oh, come on…Just being myself. Just like you told me to, Dr. Dipshit. You know, you really shouldn’t go into motivational speaking if you don’t expect people to take the advice, Idiot…”

House drew, his smirk remaining plastered to his face.

“See?! You just did it again! You’ve been calling me names all day!”

Wilson’s voice rose as he pointed a finger at House.

“And this is different from usual…how?” House flatly responded.

Wilson got up from his chair and made his way towards House, a vein began to throb in his forehead.

“It’s different from usual because it’s less clever, more basic. I’m surprised with you, if I’m being honest.”

Wilson stated as calmly as possible.

“So, I’m not on my A game today, big whoop! It’s not like you actually look forward to the banter, you bi-“

“You want something and you can’t ask me for it.”

Wilson cuts him off by poking into House’s sternum, a giggle swiftly escaping his lips.

“Oh yeah? P-prove it then..” House stuttered, his smirk wobbling into a smile.

Wilson paused, bringing a finger to his lips to contemplate.

“Hmmmm….No.”

Wilson quickly walked out of his office with Manila folders, leaving House alone in his office.

“Alrighty…”

House’s smile noticeably dropped, his typical ploy clearly not working today.

As lunch time rolled around, House tried to catch up with Wilson to steal the fries off his lunch plate but, was disappointed to see that he was nowhere to be found. Perplexed, he went down to the parking lot and noticed that his car was nowhere to be found either.

“That’s strange, Wilson has never gone out for lunch.”

House thought, making his way back to his own office with a dissatisfied look and a $1.25 vending machine trail mix.

“Was it something I said?”

“Did I make him upset?”

“Is it my fault he left?”

“It’s always my fault they leave..”

House was caught in thought when Cuddy entered his office, his eyes not even looking up from fiddling with his pen

“Hey, you’re good to go. Turns out it was Lupu-“

She pauses as she approached his desk, her eye’s immediately drawn to the angry scrawling in House’s notepad

“Yeah, yeah. Figures. It’s never Lupus but, today it is…”

“Of course it is..”

He slammed with notepad closed and got up from his desk.

“What’s wrong with you today? You’ve been more sour than usual since noon…” Cuddy asked.

“It’s…nothing. I’ll be my normal amount of dickish tomorrow. I’ll…see you in the morning.”

He responded, making his way out of his office.

Cuddy sighed and let it be for now.

As House made it to the parking lot, he was surprised to see that Wilson had waited for him.

“I was wondering when you’d finally finish up, anything interesting?”

Wilson asked, with a twinge of genuine curiosity.

“Nope…fucking Lupus…”

House stated before abruptly getting into Wilson’s passenger side.

“Really? It’s never Lupus…”

The door slammed loudly..

After they had arrived in their shared apartment, Wilson sat in his normal spot in the couch. House debated between sitting next to him and sitting at his piano bench but, was interrupted by Wilson grabbing him by his shirt and dragging him into the couch. House sat there for a moment before gently leaning his head into Wilson’s shoulder. They breathed together for quite some time, the TV not even turned on yet.

“I’m sorry…”

House spoke, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence.

Wilson’s head cocked to the side, a surprised look taking over his face.

“For what exactly?” He asked as he turned his head to meet House’s regretful gaze, clearly forgetting his frustration from earlier.

“I’m sorry for calling you unnecessary, rude names.”

��I’m sorry for making your job harder today. For making your job harder every single day..”

“For being cruel to you.”

“For pushing you away…acting like I didn’t want something from you..”

“For being an asshole...”

“I’m sorry for being…me”

House’s voice faltered, nearly breaking towards the end of his rambling.

Wilson’s eyes softened as he saw tears beginning to form in House’s eyes, beckoning to trickle down.

“Hey now…there’s no need for tha-“

“But it’s the truth! I make your life so much harder than it has to be.

Every day, you put up with my bullshit, and for what??

How do you just roll with the punches I throw and not hate me for it?

How can I be anything to you if I can’t even voice my needs to you like a normal human being?!?”

House yelled, voice breaking fully with tears rolling down his cheeks. A lump began to grow in Wilson’s throat, gnawing against his larynx.

“I-I could never hate you..even if you act hateful when you don’t mean it.”

Wilson wiped away at House’s tears, his palm landing at his cheek.

“I don’t understand…”

House grasped overtop Wilson’s hand, the tears flowing between their fingers.

“You don’t have to. Not everything is some big mystery for you to figure out. Sometimes, it’s just face value.”

Wilson replied, smiling as he ran his thumb across House’s jaw.

House stiffened slightly, goosebumps raising near where Wilson touched.

“Now, about that thing you wanted?” Wilson tapped his left ring finger against House’s neck, his golden band noticeably absent.

“I-I…ummmm….”

House stuttered, biting his lying silver tongue

He had nowhere to go

Nowhere to hide now.

It was all out in the open.

“Well?~”

Wilson hummed, a smirk that matched House’s earlier cockiness began to form.

House looked away, taking a deep breath to speak.

“I…..would really like if you..were to….err…hypothet-umm”

He tried desperately to beat around the bush, a cherry red blush burning through his stubble.

Wilson began to chuckle, an all too knowing smile on his face.

“Well, come on..Tell me exactly what you need. I need to be sure, you know?~” Wilson drew, his pinky finger joined his ring finger to tap at House’s neck.

“You knew the whole time. Didn’t you?”

House chuckled a bit, scrunching his neck up against Wilson’s fingers.

“Knew what, Snickers~?”

Wilson asked innocently as he teasingly fluttered at House’s neck.

“D-dAmmit Wihihilson! You know what I want! I wahAhant you t-to…to..t-ti..”

House stuttered just before the dreaded word just long enough for Wilson’s eyebrows to raise, a look of realization took over his face as he ceased his twitching fingers.

“Oh my god. That’s why you never ask for it…You can’t say the word..”

“Can you?”

House froze, the tips of his ears now blaring a deep red.

“I-I…Umm..ummmmmmm…”

He looked down, not able to quite meet Wilson’s eyes.

“Iwantyoutotickleme…”

House barely murmured

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you…”

He cupped a hand behind his own ear

“What was that?”

Wilson asked, his fingers poised to attack at House’s ribs.

“I-I want y-you to t-ti-tihihihi! T-Ti-T-tihihi! Oh gohohod dammit!!”

House could feel the word teasing on the tip of his tongue through his sweet bubbly giggles.

“Oh my gosh, I’m not even touching you and you’re just a giggly mess.. This is incredible. I’ve absolutely broken you and I didn’t even have to do anything~”

Wilson purred, eagerly wriggling at the air as he patiently waited for House’s word to strike.

“Wilsonnnn, plehehease..”

“Please what?~”

“Pleeeaseeee…”

“Please whaaat?~”

House firmly placed Wilson’s hands atop his middle ribs, much to Wilson’s surprise.

“Please….”

“I want you to say it~”

“I-I really want you to t-t-tickle me, o-ok? Please, Wilson~?”

His eyes now fully averting from Wilson, who’s eyes now glistened, practically filled with stars.

“O-ok..there. You satisfied with thaHAhAhaHahAt!!”’

House burst into laughter as Wilson happily dug into his ribs.

“Very much so, I’ve been waiting all day to do this!”

Wilson replied, bouncing between his 3rd and 5th sets of ribs.

“Nohohoho wahahahay!!”

House’s hands crashed into his face, his muffled giggles and burning blush still having nowhere to hide.

“Yes way~…Wait that sounded kind of silly..” Wilson paused as he brought his hands to just under House’s arms

”No way, yes way, perhaps way? Maybe way? Possibly way?”

“EehehehEhEHe! Y-you’re absolutely ridihihihihiculous! AHahAhahaHa!”

House giggled, squirming against the arm of the couch

“Only for you, Honey~BzzzzBzzzz!”

Wilson buzzed as he added a good dose of nuzzling to the mix.

“NAhHahA!! Wihihihilson!!”

House nearly squeaked, curling into himself with laughter.

“There is no Wilson, only bees! BzzzzzzBzzzzz! BzzBzzzzBzzzz!!!”

Wilson insisted, buzzing up from House’s neck to land on the shell of his ear.

“NohoHohoHo!!! Plehehehase NahaHaHat the bEeHeehees!!!”

House giggled, playfully swatting at Wilson’s face.

“You can’t escape the bees! They’re everywhere! Bzzzzz! Bzzzzbzzzbzz!”

Wilson continued to buzz against his ear while sneaking his spidering nails under House’s shirt, skittering just below his navel.

“GEhEhEt *snrk!* thehehem *snrk!* out ohohof ThEheheHere! Eeheehehe!!!”

House played along with Wilson’s bit, snickering into the couch.

“Hold on, lemme ask them..”

Wilson used one hand to push House’s shirt up, looking to speak to the bees.

“Bzzzt! BzzzzBzzbzzbzzbzzbzzzzz?”

He knelt down to buzz against House’s side as his skittering nails trailed up his ribs.

“WAITWAITWAHAHAHAHAIT!!!!”

House’s back arched upwards, his own arms hugging around his chest in an X. He could no longer speak as his boisterous laughter filled the room, a bright smile plastering his across his blushing face.

Wilson couldn’t be for certain but, if swore if he looked close enough, he could see dimples forming in his cheeks.

“What? I’m trying to talk some sense into them? Oh Christ, see what you’ve done? They’re splitting up now, need to cover more territory..”

Wilson chuckled, taking one of his skittering hands down to just above House’s waist line and the other fluttering oh so lightly between his collarbones.

“OHOHO SHIHIHI *SNRK!* HIHIT!!!! NAHAHAHAT *SNRK!* THAHAHAT!!”

House was now thrashing against the couch, his crossed arms gripping at his shoulders. Unfortunately for an already broken House, this trapped Wilson’s fluttery fingers directly above his sternum.

“It’s funny you choose that position, considering you’ve quite literally dug your own grave.. I’ll speak well of you at your burial~”

Wilson dropped his voice as he whispered into House’s ear, dropping the bit to peck just behind the shell of it. He began to tap into House’s sternum, his other hand clawing at his tummy with one finger digging into his navel. Poor pitiful House was in hysterics, his broken squealing interrupted with snorts and hiccups.

“Is this what you were looking for? Hmmmm? To just absolutely lose yourself in laughter? With not a thought to have except about how much it tickles? Is this what you wanted from me? Hmmmm~?”

Wilson teased right next to his ear, a devilishly cocky smile on his face.

House gave Wilson the tiniest of nods as his arms squeezed tightly for a moment around Wilson’s arm, moving his own hands to stifle his staggering breathy laughter.

House’s attempts at thinking or forming words were swiftly cut off by his wheezy laughter and Wilson’s fluttering hands.

The one thought that plagued his melted mind?

“It tickles so damn bad”

[upontherisers]

❛ i’ve been thinking about you all day. ❜ for mahalia & bucky 👀👀

a/n: writing under the influence always does crazy things to my prose. god bless.

She misses Europe and the cold that bit, the cold that put those horrible red cracks in between Brady’s fingers. What an awful thing to happen to a piano player. The cold that reminded her that she could feel something, that a small ember in her wanted to live. A cold she fought harder than anything, then lost, then lost him.

By the time she’d realized what she felt, she could hear her Uncle Ned’s voice in her head at a Sunday barbeque once he’s got enough beers in him to talk big to the fly boy hanging around his niece’s neck. “You don’t know spades from war, boy.”

It won’t work. John doesn’t take too kindly to ‘boy.’

So she forgets him, or tries to. That’s where the dreaming comes in, the wild things, the ones that made the shrink she saw for a day take notes, the ones that made her shut her lip quick. John doesn’t take too kindly to ‘note,’ either.

Sometimes her leg is better, sometimes he’s telling her to stay still and she can’t breathe. It’s like her chest is caving in on itself; they have sinkholes in Michigan. She knows she’s dreaming because it didn’t hurt when she fell, just knocked the wind out of her lungs. None of this heaving, desperate stuff that makes her mother shake her awake in the middle of the night for fear she’s suffocating. Gale’s there too — sometimes — and he’s real gentle. Sweet. Real life like, too, like one of those warship models her baby cousin paints, full of color and just missing the water. When it’s just John, he’s good to her.

They have a white picket fence and two stories and a dog she’s getting used to and they don’t sleep well, but they sleep. When her leg’s better they ride bikes and John scoffs about “we don’t have this in Wisconsin” and “we don’t have that in Wisconsin.”

“Lake Erie's prettier than the Superior and Michigan combined,” she argues, even with factory smoke skies and rains that hiss like the German reeds she landed in.

“I doubt it,” he says.

“Well, you’ve only ever seen it from baseball.”

“So? Baseball’s the best.”

And when he’s home from work — ‘cause he’s not a drunk in this one. Y’know, she never knew him as a drunk; she always just assumed. When he’s home from work, she’s standing in the kitchen and yes, some evenings the cane is there, but the sky is too pumpkin orange and purple for her to care. He brings her flowers and he kisses her and takes off his tie — again, not a drunk — and he tells her things. 

“We should at least see it, the Potomac, the houses… the schools.”

“My sister’s having a baby.“

“'I've been thinking about you all day.”

When her leg hurts, he’s gentle like he’s talking to her about baseball. It’s — she can’t find the words more often than not — it’s blinding, almost. Biblical, seraphic.

They had a veterans’ free admission day at the museum in Detroit. Sounds like some shit Vera would say. She went with Alex Jefferson and they walked arm and arm through the galleries, her cane occasionally squeaking against the wood floor. No one seemed to notice. Alex had invited her to stay with him and that darling thing from Tennessee, and she forgot about things for a night and a half, and spent the next six days smelling the wood air and the dew and the lake and wondering if he could feel dew somewhere too.

They had veterans’ free admission day and she saw one of those little paintings of angels, the ones with the little arrows from Valentine’s day cards, and she laughed aloud, turning heads in the echoing gallery, and thanked God she wasn’t raised Catholic. 

She’d always known what angels looked like. Brown hair, eyes like the skies above, an attitude that’d make her mother stop trying to marry her off, and no scars from the shepard that’d gotten a hold of her leg when she was twelve — the one that made the physician call the nurse in before he signed off on her physical so she could join up and she snatched the signed form away with as much rank as she could muster. You don’t ask a woman about her age or her scars.

When he’s good to her, he brings her flowers, and that’s when she knows she’s dreaming, because the flowers are daisies — real white and real yellow — like the ones Marge pressed in her letter. So at least Gale’s alive. And if, if Gale’s still alive—

They’re still taking trains to Wyoming.

She does feel guilty for the dreams that Gale’s in because Marge is a good woman and she knows it. She knows it. It’s just jealousy, she supposes, or she’s going mad with bed rest or she’s not really as dedicated to wanting something as it feels like. If it’s not about Gale, then it’s not about John, either — right?

Her mother’s reading books about shell shock in effort to explain why Mahalia came home in her own body and not her sister’s. She cracked one of them once, when Mama was out chatting to Miss Melody on the front porch and she couldn’t bear those cow-eyed kids wrapped around the hem of their mother’s yellow rose dress staring at her cane. The author was well-read and white and had served in the first one — more than most of his colleagues can say. She liked the way he wrote, talking to her like a friend, not a creature in a cage at the zoo that they poke with sticks to chronicle aggressive behavior. Dr. Arnold Bacon, Harvard University.

Dr. Bacon doesn’t say anything about dreams, at least not hers. She’s had the rest of them — her crash, camp, the march — and she doesn’t do well when gaskets blow on the street outside, but she finds nothing about dreaming of majors with strong hands and a knack for box scores, and she’s sure that shell shock’ll be the next explanation her mother crosses off the list, right next to getting pregnant and possession. She’s sure she’s incurable, but that’s what the doctors told her parents about her sister, too, and they couldn’t have lost another daughter just like that.

So she’s awake from all the dreams and the dreams of dreams, and the cold makes her remember the piano player. 

All of her letters returned to sender. She didn’t know they were doing that. Surely she’s not the first to be bent over sick with worry, surely she’s not the first to know he’s not dead — she fell but it’s not like the stars fell from the sky and punched holes in her wings, surely a million other bomber girls with their leg all tore up were trying to catch his scent but staying far enough away so that the fry grease don’t hit ‘em. 

When Crank wrote back from Massachusetts — blustery, all those vowels, a bitter wind in August — she knew that those were just dreams. If she really wanted the white picket fence and the yellow-brown center of a pressed daisy, she’d stop flinching at the blue sky when she looked up to sneeze and the green grass for the dog to run like the pines up north, farther than she’d ought to go, in real Michigan, parallel to his Wisconsin.

She’s lucky the farmer who pulled over to fill her up wasn’t carrying, she’s lucky he liked Roosevelt, she’s lucky he was union, and she’s lucky she got a hand pie from his wife as she waved farewell from their driveway on Christmas, snow blowing like steam from the Nuremberg train.

That’s the first day she really pissed her parents off. On Christmas, of all days. Leg so stiff we nearly layed ya ‘cross the backseat and drove to the Episcopals — they didn’t have round little cherubs, either. Her father’s smile faltered an inch and she felt pride in it. Finally, something other than love.

She dreams of arms wrapping around her waist, his chin settling in the crook of her shoulder so they could watch their boy run around with the dog outside. Michigan’s hot this time of year — it’s always summer when she dreams of the fence — orange like sunset and green.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

It gets cold again and she thinks of the piano player’s split hands and Uncle Ned, three lakes, sister’s baby shower blue; she’s as good a navigator as it takes to know it’ll be at least four days to Montana and even if Marge writes back that night, it’ll be at least five days to Chicago — and Vera! A boy! How wonderful — and then a day to her.

And that’s if Gale’s writing to Marge and if that pilot friend of his isn’t face down with a gun to his head.

She writes Crank who’s writing Hambone, who’s writing Brady and Alex, Macon, Benny, Vera, and no one could say the name of the one that connects them all. The one that’s late for roll, who did plenty of dumb shit before her and certainly after, but who wasn’t gone. That’s what she told the people at the post office when her letters wouldn’t go fast enough. 

She’s dreaming until she’s not and she always knew he was a drunk! She knew and he still found her door and her father’s firm hand and he found the spot by the window on the left side of her mattress. 

He gets her flowers once, pink roses — and to think she’d dreamt about yellow and white daisies — when he tells her about a promotion and a big enough salary to fix her leg and they have great hospitals in D.C. and she has to be on his insurance legally, meaning swapping out her last name, and it only has to keep as long as they can shoot me down over Seoul. And she kisses him as a few roses fall to the floor like leaves in a too early autumn. But for the first time, she wants to stay where it’s warm, green-purple and brown-orange, and let the winter be the past.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Long Fic Titles (8+ Words) (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

a universe without you (would be thoroughly mundane) (ao3) - chaeriloidea

Summary: Too much time on Twitter makes Dan reflect on how far he's come in his relationship with Phil and his audience.

Dan and Phil Take Each Other's Clothes Off (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil play dress-up based off Dan's one dailybooth

Dan stops and stares at him, “You did not just tell me a red panda fact while we are having sex.”

“They can also glow in the dark.”

don't wanna walk alone (so let's get married) (ao3) - lesbaurinkos (pluginbaby)

Summary: Phil’s always been a little wistful about the idea, some part of him a bit hopelessly romantic, perhaps, but his mind always catches on the thought of marrying Dan.

(or: marriage chats on a saturday night)

every city was a gift (and every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: “Do you think we could get a proper American desert cactus for our house?”

“Phil, no.”

“I missed the train, can I stay with you?” Redux (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil can’t believe he let Ian convince him to go out to a nightclub. How he got from there, to sending a text to Ian that he’s actually heading back to his flat with somebody holy shit don’t be worried he won’t get ax murdered probably, Phil really can’t be sure.

A ficlet about senses and surprises.

I missed you so much I dyed the towels green (ao3) - chuuyaswife

Summary: A few of Dan’s shows get cancelled while he’s on the WAD tour so he decides to surprise his boyfriend back home for a few days. Fluffy reunion ensues.

i wanna throw the fight (and kiss away your pain tonight) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: when feelings are too much for words

i will never know a sunday (how slow the moments go) (ao3) - beaniebopbaby

Summary: The man hunched over the piano, and Phil felt like he couldn’t breath. He looked around the room, to see if anyone else noticed this shift, when he finally realized they were alone. The notes grew slower and slower as Phil stood, drifting closer to the man playing the piano. The pianist looked as mesmerized as Phil, absorbed in his playing.

I'd like to hang out with you (for my whole life) (ao3) - bunnyslipper

Summary: Mornings in the forever home (featuring the golden pig)

If we were two sunflowers, I would have faced you instead of the sun (ao3) - twinphantasy

Summary: It didn’t really matter where they were or what they were looking at because Dan would always be looking at Phil.

i’m electric, a romantic cliché (me and you were meant to be in love) (ao3) - nardfx

Summary: “i really don’t know if i can do this.”

“you can do this.”

“okay, but what happens when everyone’s eyes are on me and they all know all of my secrets?”

or

dan and phil go to prom

in this falling rain (i fill the scattered you) (ao3) - ivylakes

Summary: “I’m not,” Dan finally says, voice cracking. He still doesn’t look over at the older boy. “I’m not okay, Phil.”

Phil stays where he is. He doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t come closer, either. He simply waits.

He always waits for Dan.

Or, Dan is weighed down by his mind, and Phil holds him anyway.

It Only Takes a Moment: A Dan and Phil WALL-E AU (ao3) - trancelover99

Summary: So, I've been thinking about this WALL-E AU where Dan and Phil replace Wall-E and Eve for a while, and I thought I should get around to making it! I hope you all enjoy it!

Origins of the Phass Inflation Post (Dan and Phil in Greece) (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: Dan and Phil rarely take vacations just for themselves, vacations in which they make no content, do not work, and simply enjoy each other's company. Going to Greece feels like the perfect opportunity for this, but Phil also thinks it's the perfect opportunity for a video... and Dan likes being a little shit.

The three times it was a one off and the one time it was forever (ao3) - KirstieVic

Summary: 2014, 2016 and 2018 it's a one off.

Then 2020 during lockdown, it's forever.

we were never in the park (ignoring tornado warnings) (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: After Phil leaves Dan, Dan starts seeing a therapist. Then, Phil comes back, and Dan starts lying to his therapist about him.

without saying a word (you had all of me) (ao3) - rainbowroshenpower

Summary: I trace it all back, three-thirty AM

That night, something turned in my heart

While you were sleeping, I fell in love

you're never gonna get by on three hours sleep a night (unless you absolutely have to) (ao3) - Mildredo

Summary: phil has a migraine on tour.

[quinloki]

happy sunday

in light of you KILING ME EARLIER I have had something rummaging around in my brain for a minute and thought I should share

so. brain is back on the sabo/marco train. my brain has just been kind of going back and forth on all the sneaky ways y'all would be in a house still with so many brothers. sneaking into their rooms late at night, them being in your room when you get back. It's not really a secret or anything but you don't want to be too obvious about it either.

and bc SOMEONE put public sex into my mind- I'm just thinking like, Sabo cornering you in a common area. Maybe you've been being a bit of a brat, maybe mad about something small and avoiding them. Or you snuck up on him and smooched them and ran away and he's catching up. Now you're cornered in a common area, I picture it as a room with a piano.

Just picturing Sabo backing you up into the piano until you're forced to sit on the bench, talking about all the things he's gonna do now that he caught you and what kind of punishment should it be and like he's just whispering filthy things about how you could get caught at any moment so you better keep it down (you wont get caught by any of the brothers, but you do get caught by Marco who locked the connecting room's door so no one else could catch on after sabo tipped him off)

and you freeze and squeeze your thighs together when someone suddenly walks in when you're on your knees for sabo, something they both notice, and you've never really been watched by marco usually only watched by sabo but today it's a swap of getting watched as you get railed by sabo over the piano bench

now you can't look at the piano the same way again

and they're both so MEAN anytime they catch you in common areas, talking about 'we could just do it here, you'd like that right' or getting a little touchy under a table at a club talking about sneaking off to a back corner or the bathrooms. cornering you in a pantry and being like make it quick or thatch will catch on (nvm the fact that thatch isn't even in the house)

........

I cannot I'm done I'm hitting send before I chicken out xD

I imagine Sabo's very good at playing the piano. It's one of those things his parents made him learn, and you generally start really young. He's kind of reclaimed it to his own thing - more jazz and personal compositions, and less "proper classics".

Gods now I'm sitting here thinking about him painting keys on your skin. The application has you riled up all on it's own, but then he takes his gloves off and shows you the song he's been working on, fingers dancing over your painted skin.

You really can't look at the piano the same way after that. It's almost difficult to listen to him play afterward, at least not without feeling that gentle warmth against your skin.

he hums the tune while he plays it against your skin, playing through parts repeatedly. He's teasing you, but he really is trying to work out the next part of his piece. In the end you know the song well, very well - well enough that when it fills the halls of some theater where Sabo's playing for whatever reason you're suddenly tense and red in the face.

Marco sitting beside, wondering if you're okay. You're fine, and of course Marco knows. Knows he's been working through that song on your body, knows you know every note of it. Knows that the very movement of Sabo's hands over the keys can make you crumble.

You need to be at that recital with a toy tucked inside you I swear and the sweet smile on Marco's lips as he turns it on during the song's crescendo. Giving your soft yelp cover as you shift in the seat, but you can't beg him to turn it off without giving yourself away.

Clinging to Marco's arms, eyes on Sabo, volumes being communicated when he looks over at you, well aware of the effect of the song and what Marco's done to you.

It'll be a while still, but their sweet little song bird will sing for them later.

[dystopianam]

Random headcanons about Mercutio and Tybalt

In historical times, although both Tybalt and Mercutio are very skilled with the sword, Tybalt is more agile in movement and practice, while Mercutio is physically stronger.

In modern times, Tybalt's hobbies would be fencing, piano and boxing.

Tybalt is very thin both by constitution and because he is very tall, so isn't very noticeable that he is actually muscular, while Mercutio, being more "massive" and less tall than Tybalt (I imagine that Mercutio reaches Tybalt's shoulder in height) in him it's more noticeable that he is muscular, also because he is more muscular than him.

Mercutio have curly hair. Tybalt had longer hair when he was in his early teens and hates all the photos (or portraits, if we're talking about historical times) that show that he had medium hair lenght. When he was 17 he cut his hair either because it got in front of his eyes and bothered him when he used the sword (in historical times) or while he was fencing or boxing (in modern times). Another reason is because Tybalt always felt that long hair on men gave the impression of being dirty, and also because...he wanted to look a little more like his grandfather.

As we all already imagine, the Montys all have a lot of hair (not counting Patrizio who lost it due to old age) and Mercutio is very hairy on his body. But the Capps? Well. In my headcanon, As for hair, it's more a matter of luck. In fact, Consort has never suffered from hair loss, but Kent and Caliban have. I don't know about Albany and Cornwall, but what about Tybalt? According to my headcanon, Tybalt fortunately takes after his grandfather Consort BUT with some small downside. As I mentioned, like long hair, Tybalt believes that body hair also gives the impression of being dirty. Fortunately, being a man he rightly has his fair amount of body hair, but his body hair is few and being red-haired you don't see them so much. But, Instead he has a lot of hair on his face. I have the headcanon that he has this problem that ever since he entered puberty, he has a very thick beard and that it grows very quickly, which is why he is forced to shave it very often and this is why he is the only teenager in the entire game to have a bit of a beard.

I don't remember if I already wrote it. Those with light eyes tend to have vision problems, I imagine that Tybalt has very light gray eyes, so he uses glasses when he is at home and no one outside his home and family can see him. He is ashamed to be seen wearing glasses because he thinks he looks like a nerd. Outside the house he uses contact lenses.

I imagine Mercutio and Tybalt as more young adults than teenagers. This is because they grow really fast in the game. (If I'm not mistaken, Tybalt becomes an adult in a week, Mercutio in a little longer time)

I've probably already written this but I'll rewrite it. Tybalt speaks in Sim-English when he is too nervous, drunk or embarrassed to say something.

Tybalt keeps from crying every time he sees his sisters dressing up formal for special events because he imagines them as adults and married. This irritates him because he would never want any man to come close to them but at the same time he knows that he cannot keep them single and pure forever. If they have proms in Veronaville, Tybalt probably doesn't let his sisters dance with anyone. Instead he dances with both, growling at any male being who tries to approach them.

I know I have more headcanons on Tybalt than Mercutio, but I hope to have more on him in the future too (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

[dreamlandforever]

Welcome? To Hellfire Club - Part 2

Here's part 2 of this! Apologies, this one got out of me, and it's much longer than the last one. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

Part 2 - The Campaign

Thursday arrived a lot faster than Steve was expecting, but he was prepared. The kids would be driven to his house by either Eddie himself or Jonathan, so once Steve and Robin’s shift was over, they both headed to the supermarket and then to his house. Steve might not be King of Hawkins anymore, he might be a lot more comfortable with a bat full of nails than with a basketball now, he might not get into the water anymore if it isn’t to save or protect someone else, but he is still a Harrington. Which meant that being a good host had been ingrained into his brain since childhood, same with knowing the correct way to use every item of flatware and how to play piano. None of those things made for great survival skills, but they would come in handy in winning over the Hellfire Club, or so Steve hoped.

“What are we making?” Robin asked, as she unpacked the bags she had helped carry inside. 

Steve made a quick list in his head and looked at the clock on the microwave next to Robin. “Brownies.” he decided, watching Robin grab the necessary items with a smile. He had only recently learned how to bake, mostly thanks to Claudia Henderson. But ever since he had begun doing so, he and Robin have made a habit of making treats for themselves and the kids in his kitchen. Robin moved around the kitchen with a familiarity Steve had never quite managed to in all his years of living in the same house.  “And monkey bread.” he added, unpacking his own bags and only leaving out the ingredients he was going to need. 

“Why are we baking two different things?” Robin asked, throwing at Steve a stick of butter that hit him on the arm before falling on the kitchen floor. As Robin went about gathering all she needed to begin baking, Steve followed her path, closing every cabinet she had left open as per usual. 

“Gareth doesn’t like chocolate.” he answered, picking the butter from the floor. “And monkey bread is Dustin’s favorite.”

Robin was almost always moving, Steve was used to seeing her as a blur out of the corner of his eye, so when she suddenly stopped in the middle of the kitchen, it immediately caught his attention, so he turned to face her. 

“Why do you know what Gareth likes?” she asked, confused with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t bother asking about Dustin, of course he knew his favorite.

Steve rolled his eyes at her. “I also know what you like, Robin. That’s why I got everything we need to make those Toll House peanut butter brownies you like.” he said, shaking a package of peanut butter morsels at her, which she hadn’t seen him buy in their store run. He must have had them in his pantry already. 

“Don’t change the subject, dingus. Did you really do research before having the Hellfire over?” she asked incredulously. She opened Steve’s Toll House Heritage Cookbook to start working on her favorite recipe, while Steve pre-heated the oven. They had learned early on that Robin was better off being kept away from any form of fire, a rule Steve was very good at enforcing. 

“Not really,” Steve answered, frowning. He looked over her shoulder to make sure he had set the oven to the right temperature. “I didn’t ask, I am not even sure how I know. The kids must have mentioned it. And no strawberries in anything, Jeff might be allergic? If not him, someone, maybe Kevin, and we are not killing people today.” Robin nodded, mixing the dry ingredients, and throwing the morsels at Steve so he could work on melting them. This time, Steve was prepared and caught them. 

“I can agree with today.” Steve rolled his eyes at her, but Robin was too focused on mixing her ingredients to even notice. “And you do know he calls himself Freak, right? I didn’t even know his name was Kevin. Is it Kevin? Did you make it up, Steve? Also, I didn’t know you could be allergic to strawberries.” Robin commented easily, trying to not to trip over her own feet when Steve pushed her with his hip so he could stand in front of the stove to melt the chips.

“Robin, we are not killing anybody, today or any other day, okay? Yes, that is his name. Me neither.” he agreed, mentally going over everything Robin had said. “I think that’s why I remember it.”

“Yeah, of course not. And we are especially not getting caught,” she said with a wink, making Steve push her face away, while Robin tried to bite his fingers. “How did you even find that out? Is anyone allergic to peanuts? Because we already contaminated the kitchen.” she asked worriedly, watching Steve melt the chips the way Claudia had taught him to, using water instead of directly on the pan. It took Steve a few seconds to match everything she had said to what they were talking about, but he eventually put the pieces together enough to answer. 

“No, Dustin brought a date and walnut cake the last time Hellfire played in the Wheeler’s basement.” he assured her, very certain that peanuts were safe for this group of people. 

Steve was hoping they could fall into their usual rhythm when baking, moving around the kitchen while bumping into each other, and gossiping about whatever had happened at work that day. But he knew better.

“So,” Robin started, using her arms to help herself sit on top of the counter, legs dangling happily. “Eddie.” 

In her defense, Steve knew she was dying to bring the subject up, but she had waited until the brownies were in the oven, and Steve had closed the door of said oven, so there were no burn risks. “We’re friends.” Steve said stubbornly, turning to start the monkey bread, just to have something to do with his hands.

“Yeah, you are. Do you want to be something more?” she asked, teasing tone gone. Steve sighed, before focusing on her. 

“I don’t know, Robin. I don’t even know if Eddie likes men.” he said softly, leaning back on his elbows next to Robin, so they were both facing the clock next to the kitchen entrance. They still had an hour and a half before everyone arrived. “I mean, I didn’t even know I liked men that way until a few months ago.” 

“You knew.” Robin retorted immediately.

“I didn’t know it was allowed.” he amended, agreeing with her.

“The way your brain works is a wonder to me, Steve Harrington.” Robin said easily, smiling at him. 

He let out an unattractive snort, “It is to me too, Bobby. Should I make a dip? Dustin likes dip.” 

“Oh, the artichoke one?” she said excitedly, fingers wiggling in a weird dance. Steve grabbed her hands and held them down to her lap. 

“You’re sitting next to the stove, Robin, please, be more careful.” he complained, while he reached to move the pan he had been using farther away from her, and taking the ingredients needed for the dip out of the fridge. “Yes, we can make the artichoke one, but you cannot say what it is out loud. Made that mistake before, Mike will eat it if he doesn’t know what it is.”

“You are such a mother.” Robin teased, reaching under Steve’s arm that was holding the fridge’s door open to grab the mayonnaise. 

Steve didn’t bother defending himself, handing her the parmesan cheese. Robin knew the exact weird way Max liked her sandwiches, with pickles and chips and horseradish, and just how much chocolate syrup El liked on her Eggos. She also knew Steve’s favorite dip was the artichoke one, even if she preferred the seven-layer dip, which was way easier to prepare. 

“I think he likes you back, is all I am saying. He must. He always comes over when you’re working, always laughing around you, and honestly, I cannot remember a moment in your lives where you weren’t touching in some way.” Robin said, resting her chin on top of Steve’s shoulder, while he measured the mayonnaise he was going to need. If eyeballing could be considered measuring. When he said nothing back, Robin took the hint. “Did I tell you that Mrs. Reid came back today to rent Grease again?” And just like that, she was back to talking about the movies the people they knew had rented, and making up stories on the reason they did.

He smiled to himself, participating in Robin’s theories happily. He was certain that Mr. Abbott had rented Close Encounters of the Third Kind because he had no clue what it was about, while Robin was sure it was because he had tin hats at home and believed in UFOs. 

They had gotten distracted long enough that they were surprised when the bell rang, and Robin almost dropped the soda cans she was arranging on a side table next to the big dining room table Steve had cleaned for the campaign. Steve was halfway to Robin before he realized it was just his doorbell. They both looked at each other in relief and laughed nervously. Robin didn’t let go of Steve’s arm and accompanied him to the door, helping both to get their heartbeats back to normal. 

Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the Hellfire Club really, but when he opened the door Eddie was smiling much too wide to be a real smile, and the rest of the older boys of the club entered the house with only a grunt of acknowledgment at Steve, and a nod to Robin, saying nothing else. They stood at the door in silence, until Steve realized they had never been to his house before. 

“Oh, right!” he said, “This way” and he dragged Robin behind him, signaling for the rest to follow them into the dining room. Once there, he stood a little to the side signaling, “I think this table is big enough for everyone to play comfortably.” Pointing to the side table he had dragged from the living room, he said, “And here are the snacks, you can grab whatever you want. Nothing has strawberries, and the monkey bread doesn’t have chocolate.” He winced internally at the frown Gareth directed at him, but he kept his composure. He had plenty of practice doing it. He was in his element, smiling placidly at everyone, he said, “Let us know if you need anything else, we just need to bring the chips out. The dip is artichoke, but please don’t let the kids know. They eat it just fine if you don’t specify.” 

He saw Jeff nod at him, and taking it as a good sign, he went back to the kitchen to get the chips. 

“You’re doing great.” Robin said quietly, entering the kitchen after him.

“I ranted.” Steve knew Hellfire was not just going to like him because Eddie did, and they were not going to accept him with open arms. He was pretty sure he was not a person to them. Gareth at least was young enough that Steve must have only been at Hawkins High for a year at most at the same time as him. But they knew of him. King Harrington. The Hair Harrington. The Bully Harrington. He was a jock, and that was all they needed to know. It didn’t matter how much Steve had changed in the last few years, nor how many times he had almost died. Hell, he couldn’t even swim anymore without having a panic attack, and back then he had been the swim team captain. But Hellfire knew nothing of this, so it was up to Steve to let them know him as just Steve. 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t obvious. You’re doing great.” she reassured him, grabbing some more juice boxes for the kids and following him back out. The bell rang again in rapid succession before Steve heard the front door open.

“Henderson! That key was for emergencies.” He called out while arranging the snacks. The only other people besides his parents, who were in New York for another two weeks, who had keys were Hopper and Dustin. 

“I told him not to.” Jonathan called back.

“It was an emergency. You were taking too long.” Dustin said, running into the dining room. “Hey!” he greeted the rest of the Hellfire Club, raising his hand for a high five, and going to Steve to look at the snacks. “I am starving, Steve.” 

Steve laughed at him and handed him a piece of monkey bread in a napkin. 

“Sorry” Will said, entering the dining room at a much more sedate pace, and setting his things down on a chair to greet everyone. “Thank you for having us.” 

Steve loved that kid. He was now his favorite, he decided. “Of course, Will the Wise.” Steve greeted, giving him a napkin so he could choose what to grab. 

Mike had walked in next to Will, but said nothing, dropping his things and looking around at the snack table. “Did you make pigs in a blanket? I love those.” he commented, groaning when he noticed there were none. 

“Awesome!” Lucas called. “Did you bake something? I love your brownies.” The kid seemed to walk to the snack table following his nose alone. 

“Peanut butter brownies!” Robin announced happily, handing him one in another napkin. Lucas took it happily, claiming the chair next to Dustin. 

“Is this normal?” Steve heard Jeff ask Eddie. He didn’t hear what Eddie responded, but he guessed it had been a nod, because Steve always made sure there was enough food for everyone when he hosted. And they knew the kids already, so their weird behavior probably didn’t faze them anymore. 

“Are you staying?” Dustin asked, mouth full of bread. “My character is going to kick ass.” 

“Language” Eddie and Steve said at the same time. Dustin ignored them both, still waiting for Steve’s answer. 

Before Steve could answer he saw Jonathan signal to his living room. 

“I will get back to you on that, Henderson.” he said, walking over to Jonathan, leaving a bottle of Yoo-hoo next to Eddie on his way. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, until Eddie was smiling at him and taking the offered bottle. 

“Argyle is here for a few more days, we are going to get pizza with Nancy, if you and Robin want to join. Eddie, too, once he is done with this, I guess.” Jonathan said, a little awkwardly. They had started hanging out, mostly due to Robin and Nancy’s newfound friendship, and Argyle’s complete disregard for social queues, so when it was just the two of them it was still a little weird.

Steve looked back at the table. “I think Eddie is outnumbered.” Steve said apologetically. “Maybe I can join tomorrow?” Jonathan let out a small laugh. 

“Sure, man. But I am sure Eddie is okay here.” 

“No, he isn’t. Last time, when we were at Wheeler’s, Dustin dropped a glass of juice on top of Mike’s notes, and Steve had to physically separate them. It was fun.” Robin chirped, making her way over to them. “You left me alone in there.” She complained to Steve. 

“Sorry, you seemed very happy eating brownies with Lucas.” 

“Yes, but then he got distracted by the fact that Dustin had monkey bread and he didn’t.”

Jonathan looked at the two of them, and then at the people at the dining table. “You know what, Harrington? I think you need backup yourself.” 

“Are you offering?” Steve asked with a polite smile. 

“Not at all.” Jonathan answered, making his way to the door. “I will pick the kids up when they are done. Maybe you can join us after?” he asked patiently.

“Why don’t I drive them over to your place when it’s over? Robs and I can save you the drive. I will ask Eddie if he is up for it. Save us some pizza, though.”

“Pineapple pizza is the only thing I can offer, man, but sure.” 

Once Jonathan left, Steve and Robin dragged a small love seat to the dining room to watch the campaign. They had gotten used to hearing the campaign whenever Eddie played with the kids, but this would be the first time they were joining in with the entire Hellfire Club. Steve felt oddly nervous and noticed that Gareth and Kevin were staring at him. He smiled politely at them, raising his can of coke at them in a pathetic attempt of cheers.

“I am a bard.” Dustin said, as soon as Steve and Robin sat down, taking Steve out of his head. 

Steve nodded. “What’s your name, bud?” he asked, looking over Dustin’s character sheet as he handed it to him. “I thought you were a dwarf?”

“Not in this campaign” Dustin said, like it was obvious. Steve raised both his eyebrows at him, but nodded once again, giving the sheet back. 

“Is this one episode?” Robin asked. 

“One shot.” Lucas immediately corrected. “And no, this is a continuation from our last session.” Lucas went on to give them a short summary of the campaign they were playing that day, which started back when they were allowed to play at school. Mike chimed in every now and then to add details, while looking at Will, so he could be caught up as well. Apparently, this was Will’s first time with Hellfire, too, and he would be introduced in this session. It also seemed to be the first time Mike was realizing that this was Will’s first time and he turned back to the other members to introduce him happily. Will smiled at them but kept his focus on Lucas’ retelling. 

Gareth kept looking at the kids, confused. Obviously, Steve Harrington didn’t care. But there he was, listening to the children talk. 

“Are you a wizard, Will?” Steve asked.

Will shook his head, smiling at Steve. “A mage.”

“Right, a mage.” Steve had no clue how those were different, but it seemed important to Will. 

“Well, I think we are all caught up now.” Robin agreed, leaning back on the couch, ready to watch the game. She had a napkin and a pen with a few notes on it, mainly the kid’s character’s names, which she placed between her and Steve, so they both could see it. They always enjoyed Eddie’s storytelling, but Steve found it really hard to keep up sometimes. Lucas handed Robin another napkin so she could write as the game went on, and another one for her math. She had always been way faster at that than Steve.

“Yeah, pay attention to your game captain, shitheads” Steve said, grabbing a fistful of the chips he had claimed for Robin and himself. 

“You know he is called Dungeon Master!” Dustin complained, but he turned back to the table to wait for Eddie to begin. 

Steve sat up a bit straighter when he noticed how the members of Hellfire were still staring at him. He made a conscious effort not to doubt his behavior with the kids. But he did try to tone down his joking a bit. These people didn’t know him, and bullying the kids, even if it was affectionately, was probably not helping his case. 

Eddie smiled at him, before turning back to the table and reclaiming everyone’s attention.

“You are all entering a new village, which is in dire need of heroes,” he began, his voice louder and deeper. A voice that Steve had learned to recognize as his DM voice. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad after all. 

But with Gareth’s eyes still on him, even when Steve was focusing entirely on Eddie, it seemed like an unlikely story. 

taglist: @steddie-as-they-go@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @queerdeerling@space-invading-pigeon @starman-jpg @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sofadofax @lessqn @hyperfixationgoddess

[starmoondany]

I just read your headcanons for Walburga and I love it. The “She hated when Sirius cried. Because she had gone through the same suffering as him, but she had not shed a single tear. And seeing her son be so different from her, so weak in her eyes, made her so angry.”

It was heartbreaking but also amazing. It’s explains exactly how she carried on her generational trauma. And I love the way the fandom creates these complex layered characters. 

It’s so great to be able to explain why the characters are how they are, even if it doesn’t excuse them of their actions.

I’ve always loved the headcanon that Sirius looks and acts very similar to his mother. The same hair, same posture, same insults. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

I would love to hear more headcanons if you want to write them :) Especially how Walburga would’ve felt had she found out Regulus betrayed them. And how she felt about Regulus and Kreachers friendship.

It’s interesting that Regulus betrayed them for Kreacher. I think it really shows how alone he was. That he valued the house elf over his family, in a way. 

I’ve always headcanonned that Sirius craved his mothers love, though he’d never admit it to himself. Since he felt so similar to her, as a person, he wished she changed, not that he’d forgive if she even did. 

But cause of his rebellion, Walburga ordered her pureblood ways into Regulus. Making sure he wouldn’t become a failure. 

And when she taught Regulus the piano, she probably viewed it as a nice moment, maybe one similar to what she had with her terrifying mother. But I reckon Regulus found it chilling. Having repressed her emotions so long, even if she did feel love, there’s no way either of her children could see or feel it. 

Anyway, I loved your headcanons so if you want to, write more. I am invested :) 

msndnsknndnksknwndn THANK YOU 😭❤️❤️❤️

Of course I'll continue writing about her and the Black family! I enjoy it a lot, plus there's almost not headcanons about her so here is my little contribution.

Walburga, and the Blacks in general, are very complex characters and have a lot to offer.

I'll keep writing about them, longer stuff and maybe also micro fics or something.

- And of course Sirius would never have forgiven her. Sirius is a better person than Walburga, of course, but at the end of the day they are mother and son. Sirius is a Black too, and also suffers from the Black pride. They are very similar, even though they are on opposite sides of the street.

- Sirius had never noticed it until he started arguing with Remus. And you know how Sirius is, a bitch, looking for people's weak points. And don't get me wrong, Remus is also a motherfucker. Especially in his youth. And when Sirius touched a sensitive nerve for him, he didn't hold back in his response.

- Sirius was horrified but that helped him learn and mature. See things from a different point of view. Noticing the damage and the influence that his mother had had on him.

I also have to write more headcanons for Reggie boy yes yes

Thanks for the support 🤭❤️❤️❤️

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