#it's just left such a lasting impression on me

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Part 1 with Housewardens

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

��Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you��both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

[jiminomenon]

tdwp is my newest hyperfixation omg they're actual cuties 😍 also, idk if you take req for that series but imagine if y/n calls 'ms.yu' jimin? what and how would it happen?

im so glad you asked bc i was actually gonna write smth abt this

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n was tired.

no, scratch that. she was exhausted.

jimin had been in a particularly bratty mood today—more than usual, which was saying a lot. from the moment y/n stepped into the penthouse that morning, jimin had been barking orders like a spoiled princess.

“y/n, i want coffee. but not the one from that café down the street. the one that’s an hour away.”

“y/n, i told you i hate this fabric. does anyone listen to me?”

“y/n, why is princess ignoring me again? fix it.”

the day only got worse from there. multiple meetings, a last-minute fitting, and a spontaneous decision from jimin to change her entire schedule had y/n running around like a headless chicken. by the time they returned to the penthouse, y/n was ready to throw herself onto the floor and never get up.

but, of course, jimin had one more demand.

“y/n, get me my robe.”

y/n, half-asleep while standing, barely processed the request. “get it yourself, jimin.”

silence.

the air froze.

y/n, brain catching up two seconds too late, immediately realized her mistake.

she never called jimin by her name. not once. it was always ms. yu, spoken with the perfect amount of indifference to let her know she wasn’t impressed by her diva behavior.

but right now? she definitely just called her jimin. and not in a professional way.

no, she said it—all casual, all natural, like it was second nature. like she had the right to.

jimin blinked, then turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “… what did you just say?”

y/n’s soul left her body. “nothing.”

jimin narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “no, no. say it again.”

y/n cleared her throat, standing straighter. “i said—uh—get it yourself, ms. yu.”

jimin scoffed, lips curling in amusement. “ms. yu? oh, no, no, no. that’s not what you said.”

y/n swallowed. “i think it was.”

jimin smirked. “you called me jimin.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“yes, you did.”

“i think you’re hearing things.”

jimin tilted her head, looking way too pleased with herself. “so now you’re calling me by my first name? so inappropriate, y/n. whatever happened to professionalism?”

y/n groaned, rubbing her face. “it was an accident.”

“hmm.” jimin tapped a manicured nail against her lips. “i don’t know. sounded pretty natural to me.”

y/n scowled. “don’t let it get to your head.”

“too late.”

y/n sighed, shaking her head. “are you done?”

jimin pretended to think. “hmm… no.” she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something teasing. “say it again.”

y/n blinked. “what?”

“say my name again.”

y/n narrowed her eyes at her, before letting out a defeated and tired sigh. “jimin.”

“again.”

“don’t be a child.”

jimin clasped her hands together like she won, “ahhhh, music to me ears.”

“whatever.” y/n dismissed, rolling her eyes, fighting back that stupid tug on her lips that threatened to make her smile.

and from then on, it just��� stuck.

calling jimin ‘ms. yu’ felt weird. forced. unnatural.

but jimin?

she loved it.

[hitlikehammers]

that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

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[yuri-is-online]

Not a request but a question. Opinion on RSA students in a one-sides love triangle situation with Yuu and NRC students? Everyone always does it with the overblot boys for obvious reasons. But thinking about Jade getting jealous over RSA!Flounder is very funny to me. Tiny skittish blond boy with blue highlights and big boo eyes flirting with the wrong human

I think about this all the time actually specifically with RSA! Flounder, Sebastian, and Riel

Picture this: Yuu goes with Crowley to RSA because he has to hash out details of the VDC and thinks they'd make the perfect spy because no one pays attention to them, and it kind of works. They attract a lot of attention from Rielle and his entourage because he's very interested in humans and wow! This one doesn't have any magic! That's so cool what's that like O:

Meanwhile Flounder and Sebastian aren't super impressed because Flounder's scared and Seb is a bit of tsundere in my mind- like humans aren't cool Rielle wouldn't you rather be under the sea? Harumph. But they warm up to Yuu by the time they've left and all three of them are secretly sighing to themselves in disappointment that their visit didn't last longer. Que the VDC and them getting a second chance! Only to get into a full blown fight with a kid they used to know in middle school.

I'd usually pit Jade against Sebastian because in my mind they're both butler types? Him vs Flounder though... it's just like the Sledathon all over again 💀💀💀 sunshine incarnate who is just trying to be nice vs the sketchiest mother fucker this side of the Atlantic. No matter who wins they're both come out of it losers.

[ladiesworldsblog]

I nodded silently, my cock tried to get hard, but she locked it and reminded me, that it’s her privilege afterwards to release me.

I lost sight of her during the party several times, but as she appeared again, she had that lovely sexy smile, that special glow on her face - and I instantly knew where this was coming from.

It was a great party and I really enjoyed to see some of my friends again, there aren’t too many chances as some of them live far away from our place.

As he last guest left our house, I looked around to search for my wife, I heard her calling me to the bedroom. She made herself feel comfy on our bed, had taken her shoes off and gave me a daring peek on her pussy. She was so swollen red and slimy, I discovered lots of dried cum on her cunt.

My slutty wife had fun for sure. She spread her legs for me and I could see, that cum was oozing out of her pussy. I knew what she expected from me. I crawled onto our bed between her legs and started to kiss and lick her sensitive area.

She started to tell me, that she has snacked some of my friends and she reminded me, that obviously everyone of them has so much more to offer in size, thickness, technique and stamina compared to me. And she let them cum inside of her.

She undressed her blouse to let me see her beautiful boobs, while I was eating her out like a hungry wolf. Obviously I did it right, she was getting close and finally she came so hard and had her contractions, he toe curled and she gave me her lovely O-face.

She needed to calm down a minute or two and told me to get rid of my clothes, she’s ready to give me her birthday gift now and she showed me the key. I had hoped for a release tonight, but of course I didn’t dared to ask or beg for it, otherwise I would have risked to ruin my chance.

We snuggled and cuddled while she unlocked me, I still had sperm on my lips and in my face and she kissed me passionately to get a taste of cum, she loves the taste. She rolled on her back and let me mount her, my cock was hard and she helped me to get it into her well used pussy.

She usually doesn’t like the missionary position - at least not with me, she did it as a favor for me. And I enjoyed it, much more than she did. Her silky and sloppy cunt felt so fucking great, it has been a while for me, since she gave me that pleasure.

While I was slowly fucking her and she faked some moans to give me an impression that I‘m making something right, she started to tell me the names of our guests, who had the same pleasure before. She already had told me four names as she made a pause and I thought this would be it. But she pulled me close and whispered a fifth name in my ear.

I was shocked and looked deep into her lustful eyes, I couldn’t believe it, but she just nodded and I pulled out and jerked my cock until I sprayed her whole body with my juice. She gave me a winning smile and instantly locked me up again.

Of course, I licked her clean and enjoyed the taste of my hot sperm and inhaled the scent of sex from her lovely body. She didn’t told me the name of another friend, it was my dad’s name. He always had an eye on her and I remember that I‘d seen him flirting with her today, but I never imagined that she‘ll let him have her. I was so wrong.

She told me that she can’t believe that I‘m his son as he’s quite hung and knows how to fuck a woman and make her cum on his cock. She cuddled and kissed me, telling me to get some sleep now. And as my mind was already spinning, thinking about my old man having fun with my wife, she added that he invited us for dinner the next day. And I felt how my cock was trying hard to escape its prison, but I won’t get lucky again soon.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - 2 / ?

Chapters - 1 / 2

Reupload

summary: He was going to be a Ferrari driver and she was going trackside, nothing short of a perfect storm.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari Engineer!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +2K

a/n: last of the reuploads, next chapter is a brand new chapter

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD CONTENT UNDER, -16 PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

The crisp January air of Maranello was a welcome change from the desert heat of Abu Dhabi.

Three whirlwind months had passed since that night, and now, amidst the intricate tapestry of Ferrari’s world, everything was beginning to feel like home—the rhythmic pulse of machinery, fervent debates over car performance, and the aroma of freshly brewed espresso.

But even as you settled into your new role, the ghost of that night lingered, a quiet hum in the back of your mind that you couldn’t quite shake.

You told yourself it was nothing, just a fleeting moment of madness, but the memory of Lewis’s hands on your skin, his lips against yours, was harder to forget than you cared to admit.

It was one night. One. Night. You’re not some lovesick teenager. You’re a Ferrari engineer. Act like it.

One afternoon, while engrossed in finalizing a critical report for the 2024 car, a summons arrived from Fred’s secretary. Your heart thudded against your ribs like a frantic drumbeat as you made your way to his office.

Upon entering, you were greeted not only by Fred's imposing presence but also by Charles, whose eyes sparkled with a glint.

"Ah, y/n! Glad you could join us" boomed Fred, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. Charles flashed you a friendly grin, but there was something in his expression—a flicker of curiosity, maybe even suspicion—that made your stomach twist.

This is either a promotion or an intervention. And I was not ready either way.

As you settled into the leather chair, a wave of nerves began to recede. The meeting commenced with a comprehensive review of your contributions and insights into Ferrari’s new car.

Then, Fred dropped a bombshell that made you freeze.

"We've been impressed with your work, y/n," he began, his voice serious. "I already knew of your great technical understanding and quick thinking, and Charles here has been particularly vocal about his…" he paused, glancing at the monegasque with a smile, "enthusiasm for your skills."

Charles cleared his throat, leaning forward with a playful smirk. "As you know, we’re an engineer short at trackside. The demands are intense—the relentless travel, the grueling 24-race season—but the experience is unparalleled. We believe you'd be the perfect addition to my side of the garage."

Your mind whirred at breakneck speed.

The prospect of working trackside, under the revered banner of Ferrari, was intoxicating. You couldn’t deny the thrill of being closer to the action, the adrenaline rush of race weekends.

Yet, a nagging voice of caution whispered reminders of the relentless schedule and unyielding scrutiny.

Perfect addition, huh? Sleep deprivation, jet lag, and the constant threat of public humiliation. Sign me up.

"It's a lot to consider" you admitted, looking between the two men.

Charles leaned back, a playful smile on his lips. "Think of it, y/n! Only for a test if anything. You’ve always wanted that, even back at Alpha. Although, you would have to face the brunt of Fred's coffee breath during briefings," he joked, earning a chuckle from Fred.

"Alright, for a test. Just a couple races" you agreed, a grin splitting your face,

The joy in Charles' eyes mirrored your own. He bumped your fist with a whoop. But as you left Fred's office, Charles stopped you in the hallway, his smile fading slightly.

"Hey," he began hesitantly, "about last year… I got a little carried away that night. You and Lewis? What happened?"

The question almost got you choking. Your stomach lurched. How could you tell him the truth? And you fumbled with your thoughts as you tried to get something out.

"Oh, you know," you resorted to lies, forcing a casual smile, "fan stuff. Autographs and all that."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Charles' face. "Ah, right." he mumbled. "Well, see you in Bahrain then. It’ll be nice to have you in the pit wall!"

You plastered another smile on your face, but the guilt gnawed at your conscience.

Packing for Bahrain. Excitement bubbled beneath the surface, but so did the unease. You were going trackside, and Charles just reminded you of an added bonus to that—Lewis.

Sure, Y/n. I’m sure sneaking out of Lewis Hamilton’s hotel room at dawn could totally be considered “fan stuff”

The shrill ring of your phone pierced the quiet of the dawn. It was an unusual wake-up call at 6:00 AM, especially on a Wednesday mid-winter break.

Squinting at the screen, you saw your dad's name and answered with a groggy, "Hello?"

The familiar booming voice filled your ear. "Y/n! Did you hear the news? Lewis to Ferrari! Can you believe it?"

You forced a laugh. "Dad, there have been rumors about Lewis to Ferrari for years. Remember that time they photoshopped him in a red suit?"

"This feels different, though! There are articles everywhere, even F1 is buzzing about it." Your dad's excitement was palpable through the phone as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You mumbled an agreement, hanging up before he could pick up on the tremor in your voice with the excuse of work. The news hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud amidst the usual pre-season jitters.

As you went about your day, the rumors intensified. Mentions on social media turned into breaking news alerts.

By lunchtime, a tense hush had fallen over everyone at Maranello and an unexpected staff meeting announcement had everyone sure the talk wasn’t only rumors.

As you walked towards the assembly hall, a colleague whispered, "Did you hear? Brackley's having a meeting too."

Of course they are. Buckle up, Y/n. This is going to be a wild ride.

The hall was packed, a sea of expectant faces illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights. Fred stood at the center; his face uncharacteristically serious. The silence in the room deafening.

"Everyone" he began, his voice carrying an air of gravitas, "as you may be aware, there have been a lot of speculations circulating today. Speculations that have become… well, reality."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. You could hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd.

“Lewis Hamilton is joining Scuderia Ferrari for the 2025 season.” A triumphant glint briefly played in his eyes, but before anyone could respond, the team principal continued “But that’s not for another year. In 2024, we have Charles here and Carlos, who have given us amazing years.”

The hall erupted in a cacophony of comments and stunned silence.

You felt the floor tilt beneath your feet. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst out of your chest.

Lewis Hamilton at Ferrari was monumental by itself.

And then there was a tiny detail. Your shame was about to collide spectacularly with your professional life.

You were frozen, a lone island of stillness amidst the storm.

The conversations faded into a distant hum. You gripped the edge of a chair, trying to anchor yourself amidst the emotional turmoil. You had hidden that night from everyone, from yourself even. And now you would have to possibly work alongside him.

You’ve officially done it, Y/N. You’ve had your one-night stand and now he’s joining your team. Congrats. Your life is officially a soap opera.

The desert sun beat down on the Losail International Circuit in Qatar, baking the asphalt and testing the limits. For you, it was the third day of your first official trackside deployment with Ferrari, and a whirlwind of emotions churned within you.

The initial media frenzy surrounding Lewis' arrival had subsided, replaced by the usual pre-season buzz: championship predictions, car evaluations, and the ever-present debate about the second-fastest team, which as of now seemed to be Ferrari.

You'd managed to navigate the past two days with what you defined as success.

Charles had appreciated your input during pit stops and strategy discussions, and Fred's reassuring pat on the back after a successful test session confirmed he hadn't made the wrong choice in calling you in.

Yet, a constant undercurrent of tension ran beneath the surface. The ghost of Abu Dhabi loomed large every time you passed by anything Mercedes related.

Just keep your head down, Y/n. Avoid eye contact, don’t engage. You’ve got this.

The day had unfolded in a blur of data analysis and strategy meetings. By the time everyone else had left, you found yourself volunteering to stay back and finalize some reports.

The solitude, however, was short-lived. As you gathered your belongings, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the paddock.

"Still here, I see?" Lewis' voice made you freeze on the spot.

He motioned towards the garage as he approached , and you hesitantly waited for him to reach you.

Great. Just great.

"Glad to see you're part of Ferrari. You failed to mention that" he began, his tone casual.

Feigning ignorance, you played along. "I don't think we've met." A single eyebrow of his arched up in a silent challenge.

"Babe" he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "I've kissed every inch of your skin. We've been introduced alright."

The air caught in your throat and his laughter did little to ease your mortification.

As if I don’t recall that night. Thanks, Lewis. Really appreciate it.

"You left pretty early the next morning," he continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Didn't even leave a message. Your phone. Quite the enigma." He reached into his pocket; his phone poised. "How about we change that?"

Panic surged through you as his intentions became clear. Just as you were about to stammer a response, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Y/n? Are you still here?" It was Charles, his tone light but his eyes sharp as they flicked between you and Lewis.

Lewis straightened, his smirk fading into a polite smile as he turned to face Charles. "Charles. Good to see you."

"Lewis" Charles replied, his tone friendly but with a hint of teasing. "What brings you to our side of the paddock? Still a year to go, you know."

Lewis chuckled, his demeanor relaxed but his eyes flicking briefly to you. "Just popped by to find Fred. Had a few things to discuss."

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he turned to you with a grin.

"Y/n, have you met Lewis? I know you were fan-girling over him at the Abu Dhabi party last year. Asked for his autograph and everything"

You froze, your mind racing, but you forced a smile, playing along. "Uh, yeah. Big fan."

Fan-girling? Autograph? Charles, what are you doing? 

Lewis’s lips twitched, his eyes glinting with amusement as he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you… Y/n. I take you’re an engineer?"

You shook his hand, his grip firm and lingering just a second too long. “Yeah, first year trackside as well”

Charles, not at all oblivious to the tension, clapped Lewis on the shoulder. "Well, don’t let me keep you. Fred’s probably back in the office by the paddock if you’re looking for him."

Lewis nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. "See you around, Y/n."

As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Charles turned to you, his expression curious. "So… what exactly was he doing here?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. "I don’t know, really. Snooping maybe?"

Charles chuckled, glancing in the direction Lewis had gone. "You know, the contract negotiations of him joining us started back in November. Crazy, right?"

Your stomach dropped.

November. As in, before Abu Dhabi. Before the party. Before… everything.

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your shock. "So, you knew he was joining when you dared me to hit on him?"

Charles grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "I just knew you wouldn’t actually do it … and I was right."

Yeah, let’s keep that version going buddy.

All you knew is you couldn't allow yourself to be around Lewis, not after that. Not when the truth could come spilling out like a dam bursting.

Not when he was offering you something you didn’t even know could be within your reach, something you had never even thought of being a possibility.

With each step you took in that empty paddock, you faced a choice: to embrace the unknown allure Lewis offered or to just forget that anything had ever happened.

Good luck with that!

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

@palefacestudentlove @omgsuperstarg @sltwins @lh44girl @freyathehuntress

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 66

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,520ish

Summary: You and Logan go on your first date.

Warning(s): panic attack

Notes: Please send in reactions! Can't believe there's only 6 more chapters after this... I don't think I'm ready... HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Wade watched with curiosity at Logan smiled and hummed around the apartment as he got ready for work. It was a different sight to Logan that Wade was sure no one had ever seen before.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Wade finally asked. “Like did you have a sexy dream last night? Or have I not peed in your Cheerios in too long? Like seriously, Music Man, there’s something going on with you.” Logan shrugged on his jacket and slipped on his boots before grabbing his keys. “Are you seriously not going to tell me?”

Logan grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. “She said yes,” he smiled dopily before stepping out of the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

“Wait a damn second!” Wade scrambled up and out into the hallway. “What do you been she said yes?! Y/N? And to what?” Logan didn’t bother to turn around, heading out to work. He waved Wade off, but Wade was persistent. “Logan! You cannot leave me hanging like this. I’m just going to follow you to work and I’m just in my unicorn underwear so everyone will know that you’re roommates with someone with amazing style and I—“

“She said yes to a date, idiot.”

“WHAT?! And you didn’t immediately tell me?! I am wounded, Peanut. So what’s the plan? Oh, you could—“

Logan slammed his hand over Wade’s mouth. “I’ve got it covered, bub. Now, I got to go to work. You can bug me about it after.” He turned and left.

Wade clapped excitedly before rushing off to your apartment and bursting in. You and Laura were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. You were just about to tell Laura that you had said yes to going on a date with Logan when Wade came charging in, only in his unicorn underwear.

“My Peanut Buttercup is going on a date!” He exclaimed. He rushed over and pulled you into a hug.

“What?” Laura questioned, almost spitting out her coffee. “When?”

“Uh, last night,” you mumbled bashfully. “After he walked me home from work.”

“You should have woken me up immediately! Oh my gosh! We have so much to do to get you ready for it!”

“Please don’t make this a big deal.”

“Oh, but my sweet Buttercup,” Wade smiled, “how wrong you are.”

~~~

Your hands were trembling and growing increasingly warmer. As you looked through your closet for the perfect outfit, you began to burn through the fabric of every piece of clothing you touched. You groaned in frustration as the pain in your hands grew and little burns began to appear.

“Shit,” you muttered, plopping down on your bed.

“Have you found an outfit yet, mom?” Laura asked, peeking her head in.

You shook your head, staring down at your ugly hands. Laura noticed and came in to sit beside you.

“I’m burning all my clothes,” you whispered. “I’m so nervous… And then there’s these ugly things.” You twisted your hands around. “Logan tried to hold my hand last night… I didn’t let him… I didn’t want him to feel all this awful scars against his hands. Like, seriously, how could he think any of this was attractive? I used to be… so much prettier.”

“Mom, are you serious? You are gorgeous.”

“You’re too kind, kiddo. But I’m not anymore.”

Laura sighed, knowing that she couldn’t be of much help in this department. She leaned over and kissed the side of your head. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got an idea.”

~~~

Logan didn’t realize that he could be this nervous. As he walked home from work, he bought five different bouquets of your favorite flowers, not knowing which one was perfect enough for you. He had to make a good impression for this first date. The best impression. This could be the official start of something incredible for him and Logan couldn’t take the chance of it being anything less than perfect.

When he got home, Wade had already thrown a variety of Logan’s outfits  around the apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asked, looking around at the piles of the few clothes he had.

“I’m trying to help you!” Wade replied, moving clothes from pile to pile. “But you’re clothes selection is awful. Which is why I went shopping today!” He lifted up a large garment bag up. “I had been thinking just one of your plaids but then I bought this.” He held up a nice black button up. “Which can go with these jeans and then shoes. What do you think?”

“Is that too fancy?”

“Oh, please, nothing is too fancy for our Little Flame. You want this date to be memorable, right? And of course it has to be perfect!”

Logan’s heart began hammering in his chest and his breaths were coming out in short spurts. This was a new feeling. His hands were clamming and the room was blurry. The bouquets of flowers fell to the floor.

“Hey, Peanut!” Wade called. “You still with me?”

“I… It’s…” Logan panted. His hand went to his chest as he thought his heart was going to pull itself out of his chest.

“Hey! Woah there!” Wade rushed over to Logan’s side as Logan’s knees gave out and he landed on the bouquets. “You’re having a panic attack, Peanut. You need to breathe.”

“I… can’t… what if… ruin… everything… can’t… lose… her…”

“Okay! None of that.” Wade knelt down in front of Logan and gripped Logan’s face between his hands. “You’re over thinking. Deep, slow breaths, Peanut. Follow my lead.” 

Wade dramatically led Logan through the breathing. The big bad Wolverine was having a panic attack over a first date. Normally, Wade would totally tease Logan for this but it was actually making Wade concerned. Far too long for either of their likings, Logan grew calm.

“There, Big Guy,” Wade cooed. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Logan muttered. “Thanks.”

“Good. Now,” Wade turned around and grabbed the outfit he wanted Logan to wear, “go get all cleaned up. And stop overthinking it.”

Logan nodded, getting up. His eyes fell to the ruined bouquets and his heart sank. “Shit. The flowers.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. Go.” Wade pushed Logan towards the bathroom. Logan’s shoulders were slumped as he went and disappeared into the bathroom. Wade sighed. “I do fucking everything around here.”

Wade gathered up the flowers that weren’t ruined and made a makeshift bouquet out of them. He stared at his handiwork before pulled away by a knock at the door. Wade skipped over to answer it, seeing that it was Laura on the other side.

“Little Wolf!” Wade greeted. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need your help,” she said. “My mom…” She glanced back to see if Logan was there. “Just, come here.” She grabbed Wade’s wrist and pulled him out into the hall. “My mom is freaking out.”

“Yeah, well, so is Peanut.”

“No, she’s… she’s burning everything she touches and burns are forming on her skin. My mom’s in pain and it’s all got her thinking that she’s not beautiful. I tried to—”

“Oh, hell no!” Wade slammed his apartment door and marched over to your apartment. He headed straight for your room, where he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, head hanging down. “Listen here, young lady. I will not have you talking badly about yourself.”

“Wade—“

“No! I will not stand for it.” He crouched down between your legs and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Buttercup, you are beautiful. Your scars do not define your beauty. Fuck, look at me. I know that my skin is a disaster but I also know that I am handsome as all hell. Yes, I make jokes at my own expense and have my own bad days, but—“

“Not everyone has your confidence,” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about how he probably had a perfect version of me in his world… I probably don’t compare…”

“My Little Flame, confidence isn’t on the outside. It’s in here.” He pressed a finger to your chest. “Same with beauty. But, my darling Buttercup, I can promise you this: you are beautiful inside and out. And I can tell you for a fact that Logan believes that you are the prettiest woman in all the multiverse.”

“He does?”

“Yep, and I’ll make sure that he tells you that more. You know, he’s struggling himself too. In fact, I just helped him through a panic attack.”

“What? Is he alright?”

“Peanut is fine. He’s getting himself all dolled up for your date and should be over soon.”

You nodded. “I keep burning all my clothes.”

“Don’t worry. I think I got just the thing.”

~~~

Logan stood on the other side of your apartment door, staring at the door. The bouquet that Wade had fixed up was gripped tightly in his hand. He was taking slow deep breaths, trying not to trigger another panic attack. Finally, with a slightly trembling hand, Logan knocked on the door. He was surprised to see Wade was the one to answer it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wondered Logan.

“I’m here helping out my Buttercup,” Wade responded with a shrug. “And someone needed to give you a good taking to.”

“What are you talking about—“

“I want her back home by nine pm. Only extremely respectful touches. No funny business. It’s only the first date. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Seriously?”

“You’re not seeing her until I hear it.”

Logan let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, sir. I’ll have her home by nine and I will be nothing but a gentleman.”

“Good.” Wade turned back into the apartment, leaving the door open. “Buttercup! Your date is here!”

Laura was with you in the bathroom, the two of you looking at your reflection, when Wade yelled for you. She hugged you from behind.

“Go out and have fun, mom,” she told you softly. “You deserve it.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks, kiddo… for everything. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

Laura took one of your hands, which were covered in her fingerless compression gloves, and lead you out to the living area. Logan lost his breath as he saw you. You were in a simple outfit, nice jeans and a blouse, but you were gorgeous. He quickly noticed the compression gloves and the fireproof body suit that was peering out from your blouse and his heart dropped. You clearly weren’t having a good day power wise, maybe he should call this off?

“Hey, Lo,” you greeted with a grin. But how could he call it off when you looked him like that?

“Hi, doll,” he said simply, getting lost in you for a moment. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “these are for you.” He offered you the bouquet. 

You gave him a sheepish smile as you stepped forward and took the bouquet. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Wade said. “The bouquet was made by yours truly.”

You laughed. “Well, thank you too, Wade.”

“I’ve already warned him about bringing you home by nine and no funny business. But the same goes for you, young lady, no funny business. We cannot afford to have a little Emberine running a muck around here.”

“Wade!”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “For everything.” You turned to Laura and handed her the bouquet. “Take care of these please.”

“Of course, mom,” she said, taking the flowers. “Have fun.”

You nodded and turned your focus back to Logan. “Ready?”

“If you are, darlin’,” Logan replied.

Logan and you stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind you. You followed Logan closely as he led you out of the building. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slipped your arm through Logan’s. His breath hitched at the contact, you noticed.

“Sorry, is this okay?” You asked.

“It’s great, doll,” he shot you a smile.

“So, what are the plans?”

“You’ll see.”

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning into him. “I trust you.”

Logan’s heart soared. He knew that you meant in this moment, but he also knew that your trust went beyond this moment. He led you through the streets to a quiet diner. He guided you to a small booth in the corner, where you two quickly ordered from the waitress.

“This place is nice,” you commented, looking around.

“I found it once on a late night walk when I couldn’t sleep,” he stated.

“Do you have nights like that often?” Logan shrugged. “Lo… why haven’t you told me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

You reached out and placed your gloved hand on his. “If you don’t want to be shielded from my problems, you can’t shield me from yours. Got it?”

Logan nodded, his hand turning to better hold your hand. You bit your lip, trying not to pull away from his touch. “Are you okay today? I noticed the gloves and the body suit.”

“I’m fine—great, actually. I just… It’s embarrassing.”

“Try me.”

“Well, I was so nervous for the date that I kept burning everything I touched.”

“Are you alright?” He lifted your hand and noticed the small burns. “Shit, doll.”

“It’s fine, Lo. I’m fine… Heard you had a panic attack.”

“Yeah,” Logan nodded, bringing your intertwined hands back to the table. “I was nervous too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

~~~

The two of you lost track of time as you ate, talked, and laughed. It felt easy, quiet, and relaxing. Logan had worried that his plan just to go to a diner was too simple, but those worries faded quickly. Before you knew it, it was well past nine, and you and Logan were finally walking home. Your arms were looped together and you were leaning comfortably against each other, like you were melted together.

“Thank you, Lo,” you told him as the two of you stopped in front of your door. “Tonight was… well, perfect.”

“Glad you thought so, doll,” Logan smiled. “I, uh, I was thinking that maybe—“

Your apartment door slammed open. “I said nine!” Wade exclaimed. “It’s almost eleven! Are you too old to tell time, Peanut? Do I need to get you a watch?”

You bit back a laugh as Logan groaned, jaw and hands clenched in frustration. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek, causing him to freeze up.

“Thanks again, Lo,” you whispered. “See you tomorrow.”

Logan could barely force out a nod as Wade grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the apartment and shut the door behind you. Logan’s fingers twitched as his hand came up and brushed against the spot you kissed.

Inside the apartment, you were laughing. Laura and Wade had pulled you into the blanket fort they made in the living room.

“Tell us everything!” Wade pressed. “I want to hear every juicy detail!”

The three of you stayed up talking in the blanket fort until you all fell sound asleep. 

next chapter >

[corviiids]

sparknotes for "fix your eyes" the 2/2 akeshu fic

as always dont read this if you havent read the fic it wont make any sense, also p5r spoilers obviously but i think the boat's sailed on that one. happy 2/2, the holiday where goro akechi dies and i celebrate by killing ren. fuck yeah.

i guess the overarching question in this fic is whether ren is real, or, like to what degree he is real? to an extent i want to leave it up to interpretation, but it's not nearly as ambiguous as i left it in my death note fic telltale. you can have your own take on this but fwiw my take is that ren is as real as goro is in canon third sem, which is to say he's real. he's behaving as himself. maruki isn't influencing his behaviour. (at least that's my intention.)

the main mirror to canon w this au is like... okay so in canon, akechi sacrifices himself for the thieves and then is brought back, and ren's big challenge is whether he can stand to lose akechi a second time. it's worse for ren because ren is the Hero, you know? so not only is akechi someone he failed to save, akechi is someone who gave himself up specifically so REN could live, something that ren (who likes to sacrifice himself for others) really struggles to live with. the idea of allowing akechi to sacrifice himself therefore becomes a huge problem for him.

in THIS fic though, akechi killed ren himself. so it's a different question. the actual choice is not between killing ren vs keeping him alive--it's that in november, akechi made the wrong choice. he did something he regrets. so now the onus is back on him, again, to choose again, and figure out which choice is right. killing ren was obviously the wrong thing to do by ren. now, although ren doesn't offer a view one way or the other, the implication is that ren does not want this reality, given ren was fighting maruki all month knowing he was dead. so the right thing to do arguably is to allow ren to die again, even though his death was a wrong that occurred already. this is the more painful choice for akechi to make because it's something he actively wishes didn't happen, but it would be the right thing by ren--so akechi's challenge is whether he can make the selfless choice this time having done wrong before.

that's why akechi in canon and ren in this fic react so differently. akechi has been robbed of his agency all his life, so he impresses his wishes very forcefully on ren: he refuses to live like this, so he insists that ren choose to let him die. whereas ren in this fic was robbed of his life by akechi choosing his fate for him. he knows akechi is now struggling with regretting his decision, so telling akechi to choose one way or the other would actually be more merciful. telling akechi to let him die would make it easier for akechi to do it, and ren refuses to take the burden off him. ren's saying, you chose for me last time and you chose wrong, so now im forcing you to choose again. and this time get it right.

i had a really fun time with akechi's voice in this fic because he's so unstable and just really irritable. he is not having a good time, and he's really unreliable as a result. i think he's really been at sea since he killed ren. sometimes you get everything you always wanted and it just fucking sucks. the whole time he's struggling with how much he wishes he'd failed. he wants ren back, doesn't deserve to have him back, want to spend time with him now that he is back and is also struggling with guilt and bemusement that ren is spending time with him at all. he manifests all of this as irritability because he's just not good at regulating himself.

one of the big things also is that akechi's internal narration calls ren 'amamiya' for almost the entire fic, because they just never got that close. more precisely, akechi doesn't feel he's able to consider ren that closely.

ren's behaviour in the fic is pretty inscrutable. like, it really doesn't make sense for ren to want akechi at all. i guess im making kind of a meta point with this more than i am making any point about ren's internal world. the point is mostly just to emphasise how little goro understands what's going on with ren here. this is a very unreliable narrator fic, something goro comments on himself.

(btw, the joke here is that latin is a dead language........ lmao)

shows thru in parts like this also, where goro kind of technically has a point and yet if this is the entirety of your worldview it's not only jaded it's also just kind of... incomplete. like, it's not wrong? ren's confidants are all like this, basically. and goro does then go on to say that though relationships START like this, they can't stay that way. but more than that, it shows how brittle goro's perspective is on social relationships. his distortions are pretty clear.

he also has this repeated refrain of nihilism the further it goes along lol

there are also a lot of these moments where ren clearly indicates he knows something is up, but akechi just misses them because he's so wrapped up in his own shit.

oh also backtracking a bit

the idea here being that kind of like how akechi will wait in kichijoji in third sem, ren's kind of become the kichijoji confidant and akechi's become the protagonist.

btw initially i had planned to write a more closed ending, or potentially a CYOA style double ending depending on which choice akechi makes? but ultimately i decided to leave it ambiguous.

i feel like there is definitely other stuff i wanted to say but i forgot it so i guess ill just add onto this post later if i think of it. anyway! thanks for reading! happy 2/2! <3

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

So I definitely feel like I will be adding to this post quite a bit, and this first addition is coming after @jjohnnyutah’s fantastic reply, which kinda summarised the history a bit more.

As I said earlier, I was really umming and aahing about making this post, because I’m still new to a lot of the comics, so this was really inspired by what I have been able to get my hands on (literally… I started out borrowing my friend’s comics last year) whilst I’m slowly making my way through what’s available online. As it is, you can probably see that I was able to read more of the modern stuff than the older stuff so far. I didn’t really want to make a post until I had read more but hey I’m adhd as hell and intended to just make a small one in reply to the tags and it spiralled from there. I did try to find some info of what I missed online but apparently that left out a lot! So this post is gonna have constant updates of me doing a DC and retconning stuff as I learn more.

So, anyway, jjohnnyutah’s reply addressed a couple of things. Firstly was Mary’s origin as a dental hygienist, rather than being from the circus herself originally. Can’t lie, I actually love this for her. Is it super unusual from a how-gypsies-work perspective? Sure. But like I say, a lot of my cousins are Diddakois, and I kinda love the idea of Mary coming into the fold, when just as often, the gypsy partner ends up leaving it. Of course, there’s nothing to say for sure that Mary did not have Romani ancestry (like I say, in the N52 modern stuff, she was friends with other Romani characters, so she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the Romani sphere) - I, myself, am a gypsy with a degree, so it’s not exactly like getting a different job cancels your Gypsy Card. Although I do really love the idea of Mary being a gypsy and working as a dentist for the simple reason that, although attitudes to education have greatly improved in recent years, my family would have lost their shit if I got my degree twenty years ago, as it would have been seen as ruining my prospects. So from a feminist perspective, I really love the idea of Mary having at least some Romani heritage too.

The other is Dick not knowing much about his heritage and wanting to learn more, and let me tell you, I feel that. Even growing up surrounded by it, my dad’s side of the family never told me anything. I didn’t even get confirmation of how many siblings my grandmother had until she died. My mum’s side was much more forthcoming. Like I say, I’ve had a lot less opportunity to read the (let’s face it) better older stuff so seeing what I have of it, it seemed more of a given that Dick knew something. The reason for this presumption was mostly of how much Romani he’s seen to know even early on?? As I’ve said on previous posts, in the modern day, Romani is a lot less complete for actual use, so how much he knows is impressive. But yeah, this has just made me so much more excited to continue reading. But at the same time, fully expect another post from me six months from now when I’m more caught up calling myself an idiot. Ta x

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[organic-bloodbath]

hello! could I request literally anything w chishiya x pregnant!reader? maybe how he (and the rest of the group) would take care of reader during and in between games? thank you sm!

Child of Hearts

Chishiya x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Chishiya takes care of you after you two have been separated from the rest of your friends.

A/N: Please request me more Chishiya i need this man so bad. I hope this is alright 🫶🏻 (mind you, i have never been pregnant myself so i might not know what the hell i'm talking about)

♤♡♧◇

Running away from a man shooting every person in sight with a huge rifle was a big challenge when you were 7 months pregnant. You didn't know what the gun was called, but when the bullet hit its target, it would basically cut your body in half. Hiding behind a car would be useless, as the car would be in pieces as well.

Running fast enough was already difficult, almost impossible, but your heavy stomach, bearing another human being, was making it a lot harder. It didn't take long to be out of breath and your legs were going to betray you any moment. Chishiya's hand was pulling you forward and you could barely keep up. He would soon have to drag your body against the ground, and then you'd both be dead.

This was it. You had played several games, somehow been able to beat them all with the help of your friends, which was a miracle itself. Especially without Arisu, Usagi, Kuina and Chishiya you would have died ages ago.

Before your pregnancy, you had been quite a fast runner and could run fast for a long period of time. Now? The total opposite.

Finally, you could sit down on the ground, leaning against a car. You had to only hope that the shooter had passed you and wasn't going to blow it up.

"You doing okay?" Chishiya looked at you with concern when you closed your eyes and threw your head back, breathing loudly.

"Yeah, yeah, i'm fine," you nodded, barely being able to talk. "Just can't run anymore."

Seeing a massive airship floating in the sky almost right above you, a large playing card hanging from it, you finally came into a conclusion what was going on.

"Well, he must be the King of Spades," Chishiya said next to you, leaning against the car.

Absolutely amazing - now the entire Tokyo was a game arena?

The shooting had stopped for a moment, but the shooter – or more specifically the King, should you call him – could come out from any corner at any second, surprising you completely.

Ann arrived with a car, telling all of you to hop in. However, Chishiya was left behind, because of a grenade that had been thrown between him and the car.

As were you with him.

♤♡♧◇

The others were gone now, driven away with the car. You and Chishiya were left alone to find a way to survive on your own. You were relieved to have Chishiya with you, he was extremely smart and knew how to survive different situations.

Previously many of your teammates had helped you, but now it was just the two of you. For a second you were slightly afraid that taking care of you alone would become too much to Chishiya if the King of Spades found you out of all people and started chasing you. You could tell that running with you was challenging to him.

You were starving, not remembering when was the last time you got proper food, and eventually found a small grocery store which windows had been shattered.

Chishiya started browsing for food while you waited, leaning against the counter. Soon, he came back with the most suitable and edible food he could find in this situation.

"Cash or credit?"

"Aren't you a little too pregnant to be working?"

"Don't underestimate me, Doctor Shuntaro," you teased him.

You pretended to scan each item like you had worked here for years.

"Thank you for shopping with us, please come again," you said with your best customer service voice.

"You definitely deserve the best worker of the month award," he praised you, almost impressed, and clapped his hands a few times.

"Finally someone gives my work credit," you said, hand on your chest.

There was a small table and two chairs by the window. You and Chishiya dragged them away from the window, so you could sit down in the back of the room and not be seen to anyone possibly walking past the store.

"Here you go," Chishiya said and offered you food and a plastic fork, along with a bottle of water, as you sat down. "It's not much but it's the best i got now without any electricity to heat it up."

"Thank you," you said quietly.

You ate in comfortable silence. You hadn't realized how dizzy you had started to feel after all the running and having not eaten or drank water in hours.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Chishiya asked when he was finished with his meal and put his hand gently on yours, looking concerned.

"Yeah, i'm fine," you mumbled and stretched a little. "My back just hurts."

"Let's take a break and lay down for a while, okay?"

"But shouldn't we stay on the move? The King of Spades might come back and-"

"We'll be safe enough here for a while. Take a short nap, i'll keep an eye on the surroundings," he insisted. "You need more rest than me."

You were sleepy, so you weren't going to resist too much. You hadn't slept properly in a while.

Chishiya watched you sleep on your left side, your head on his lap to use as a pillow. You clinged on his leg with both of your arms, and he gently brushed your hair with his fingers to soothe you to sleep.

You were so beautiful, and he knew that he didn't say it to you often enough - as often as you would have deserved.

Chishiya was terrified every second of being in this world, having to play the games with you on his side. He wasn't afraid of many things, but you? If he lost you, he'd also lose your baby. His unborn child. And that was easily his biggest fear.

You had been in a relationship together for the past three years, and the pregnancy hadn't been planned, at all. Chishiya wasn't sure if he would ever want children, and when you told him that you were pregnant, he didn't know what to think. But it didn't take him too long to get used to the idea of becoming a father. And having you as the mother was everything he could have wished for.

You, however, hadn't considered becoming a mother at this age and had cried in the bathroom for an hour after seeing the two lines on the pregnancy test. Now, as the months had passed, you had gotten used to the idea of having a child and were more ready with Chishiya's constant support, who you loved and trusted with all your heart.

You just had to finish the rest of the games and hopefully, you could then return home - before you'd start delivering the baby.

♤♡♧◇

You entered a new game with Chishiya inside an old prison.

Jack of Hearts - Solitary confinement.

This was absolutely the ideal game for you, since all you could do was just chill and sit around until it was time to go into your little prison cell to announce the correct symbol on the back of your collar. And for that, you had Chishiya revealing it for you. As long as Chishiya was there for you, you had nothing to worry about.

People formed groups, telling each other everyone's symbols, so other people could confirm they were telling the truth.

"Hi," a girl in a blue dress greeted with an eager smile, approaching you. "Want to join our group?"

You glanced at Chishiya, unsure, but nodded your head.

"Sure, why not," you shrugged. Mom always told you to try and be more social.

Slowly, as the rounds went by, people started to lie and betray each other, which ended up more and more people being eliminated. This was a Heart's game, after all, it was supposed to mess with both your head and heart.

"Listen, let me worry about the game, you just remember your symbol and rest, okay?" Chishiya had said earlier, giving your hand a squeeze.

Chishiya had been eyeing the other people and trying to study any hints that could lead him to reveal someone as the Jack of Hearts. He hadn't told you much about his thoughts, probably still trying to decide his opinions on the players.

Right now, you sat at the table, looking towards the group which was sharing their symbols with each other. It was like watching a high school drama all over again, except now people were getting killed.

"Here," Chishiya said, sitting next you, and laid food on the table in front of you. "You need to eat."

He had grabbed two different kinds of crackers, a bottle of water, some orange juice, and a can of soup.

"I just did, i'm fine," you tried to refuse, even though you knew you could have eaten a little bit more. Chishiya just stared at you with no expression on his face.

"Yes, but you need to eat more, since you're eating for two," he insisted and wasn't having a 'no' for an answer.

You rolled your eyes, and he noticed it, giving you a look.

"Fine, fine, Doctor Shuntaro," you smirked.

After you had finished eating, you went to the bathroom again - you were sure you'd have to pee every hour. Washing your hands and your face, you heard someone arriving to the bathroom.

"Hello," a young girl greeted you nervously, taking careful steps towards you. "Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me the symbol on my collar? I don't really trust my group anymore and, well, you seem nice."

"Um, sure," you mumbled and looked at the girl's symbol. "It's a diamond."

"You sure?"

"I have fully functional eyes."

"Thank you so much," the girl said, giving you an excited smile.

You didn't bother to include yourself in that drama club and lie for no proper reason, you had decided to keep your distance to them since you didn't need help with your symbol. You doubted any of them would be the Jack, but who knew - the Jack could be a girl too, after all. If they started manipulating and lying to each other, that was on them.

A few more rounds passed, and you were starting to become really sleepy. By now you had been at the prison for 8 hours and you had no idea how much longer all this would take. Chishiya had been feeding you crackers and other snacks almost every hour, now that you had food available a lot easier.

You wondered if your friends were alright, though you knew all of them were strong and if they had survived this far, they must be able to handle anything. Still, of course you couldn't help but to worry.

You walked around the place and tried to search for a corner to take a quick nap, there was 36 minutes left until you had to go back to your cell.

Then, you had to stop walking when you felt sudden pain and pressure on your stomach. You let out a loud gasp, startling any few people nearby and make them look at you. You leaned against the nearest wall, so you wouldn't fall on the floor.

No, no, no, no. You weren't going to start delivering your baby a month or two early. Especially in the middle of the game where there was a time limit and a chance to be killed. Of course they wouldn't stop the game for a moment if there was a woman on labour.

Chishiya had heard you and instantly ran towards you. His eyes widened when you were holding your stomach in pain.

"Y/N? What's happening?" Chishiya asked, trying to hide his panic so you wouldn't start to freak out even more.

"I-I don't know," you mumbled and truly started to panic. "It just hurts. I don't know. Oh my god, Chishiya, I-"

"Okay, calm down. You're having contractions, it doesn't necessarily mean the baby's coming, okay?" he tried to reassure you, his hand on your cheek. "Look at me. Just breathe, take a deep breath."

You did as he told, taking deep breaths and squeezing Chishiya's hand every time the waves of pain took hold of your stomach. If this hurt, you didn't want to know how much it hurt to push the baby out of you - your pain tolerance was extremely poor.

"I can't do this, any of this, i'm-"

"Yes, you can, darling," Chishiya said softly.

After some time, it stopped. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, for the next twenty minutes, Chishiya holding your hand the entire time and gently rubbing your back.

"See? Everything's fine," he said calmly and put his arm around you, keeping you close against him.

"You know," you started, eyes starting to water. "I haven't felt any movements from the baby in a few days. What if something's wrong?"

"Listen," Chishiya said. "Contractions are normal, even when the baby won't come yet. The baby might not move every day, it's normal. You'll just have to stay calm and try to avoid too much stress. And i know that's a lot to ask for in our current situation."

You nodded, unsure, but trying to believe his words as well as possible. He was a doctor after all, right?

"Next round, we'll get you a place to sleep for a moment," Chishiya promised. There was 9 minutes left to announce your symbols.

"You know, when the baby will be born, we'll have a lot more different story on how the pregnancy went than other expecting mothers," you chuckled. "Like, not many moms can say that they've run away from a shooter while being on their third trimester of their pregnancy."

Chishiya smiled. "Or spent a day in a prison with no actual guards around."

An older man walked past you, still sitting on the floor, leaning against Chishiya.

"My God. Are you okay? How on earth have you survived this far being pregnant like that?" he asked in shock, surely seen the scene just a moment ago.

"Well, i've had a lot of help," you shrugged.

You had been used to people commenting on your pregnancy. Every time you met someone knew, they just stared at your stomach for too long, feeling bad for you and considering you the weakest player of the group. You stood out from the rest of the people around, it was understandable. At first it had bothered you, but now you were so tired of it you just felt numb.

Arriving to the Beach for the first time, the entire pool party had quieted down for a moment when people saw you.

"Here, it is required to only wear a swimsuit," they had announced, but looking at you, they let you wear more clothes. Thank god for that. You weren't exactly very fond of showing off your stretch marks and everything. You had been given shorts and an oversized t-shirt - it was the same shirt you still had on.

In the end of the current game, only four people came out from the cells alive, after the Jack had guessed the wrong symbol, and left the prison, two of them you and Chishiya. It had been the first game where you could have actually relaxed and sat back for a while.

If there had been a proper bed, you wouldn't have minded to stay a bit longer too.

"So, what now?" you asked.

"We'll try to find a place to spend the night."

It was becoming the night and you had been walking almost half an hour on the streets, trying to find a good place to hide and sleep.

You found a small hostel, completely abandoned and empty, and found your way into one of the rooms. The door was locked, but Chishiya could easily pick the lock open. You were able to sleep on a real bed again, you could have started crying from even the thought of it. The sheets weren't fresh at all and the blanket was really thin, but you couldn't complain.

You laid yourself on the bed, it felt so good to feel an actual mattress and a pillow under you, you felt like your body could melt there like a cotton candy in water. Chishiya came to lay down next to you after removing his shirt, warming you better with his bare skin. He cupped your cheek and pulled you in a sweet kiss.

Suddenly, you winced when you felt a kick inside your stomach. Chishiya immediately sat up, concerned.

"What's wrong? Did the contractions start again?"

You grabbed his hand and put it on your stomach, trying the correct spot to find any movements, and when he felt a kick right against his hand, he flinched and a smile spread on his lips.

You started laughing, with a few tears of relief and happiness, and he laughed a little too.

"We'll be alright," Chishiya whispered. He hugged you and kissed your forehead.

"I hope so," you said quietly.

"I love you," he whispered and looked you deep into your eyes. "You know that, right?"

"Are you saying that in case the King of Spades comes to shoot us in our sleep?" you teased. "Honestly, that would definitely be cheating."

"I doubt he's going to find us here," he assured you and pressed a kiss on your hair. "Good night."

"Good night," you answered and turned on your side. Chishiya's arm wrapped around your stomach, pulling you against his chest.

[rikan-oo]

Rogue cultivator SY AU [ 1, 2, 3, 4 ]

Shen Yuan comes back to Cang Qiong Peaks after a year of travel for his research. Shen Qingqiu is excited until he finally sees him.

SQQ: What is THAT?

SY: I'm happy to see you too *beaming eagerly with badly grown beard and mustache* It is a year of my hard work. I wanted to show you it so badly *proudly touches his beard* Impressive, isn't it?

SQQ: You're getting rid of that immediately.

SY: Huh?

SQQ: I say, you have five minutes to get rid of that abomination yourself, or I'll do it. *drawing the sword*

SY: W-what? Wait! I can't do this, I spent so much time growing it, so it looks good!

SQQ: And clearly, you have failed. Shave it. NOW

SY: You're just jealous I did while you couldn't. I look manly!

SQQ: I just don't want to kiss Mu Qingfang twin. At least he saw the reason and shaved it off.

SY: He did?! Oh, no. Shidi lost his wings!

SQQ: A-Yuan, I'm starting counting. One-

SY: Okay-okay! Does it really look so bad? *mumbles*

SQQ: Yes. *gets closer and takes his chin in his hand* You'll look so much better without it. Believe me. *leaning closer as it to kiss him on lips, but in last moment bits his nose*

SY: AW! YOU-*tries to back off*

SQQ: After you do this, you'll recieve a welcome kiss. Understand? *pinches his cheek*

SY: Yes! Stop doing it!

In the background:

LBH: I'd kiss him anyways, with beard or not.

NYY: Ning Yingying thinks Shizun would too. But Shifu looks better without it. He just needs proper motivation.

MF: Obviously, Shizun doesn't want to repeat "Beardgrow remedy catastrophe," which happened half a year ago. *shudders*

LBH: Didn't you also-

MF: I don't recall anything of the sorts.

P.S: For a moment, Shen Jiu thought left it be. Maybe it would work better than weil, getting rid of potential flies flocking to honey. But they would see SY's smile anyway, the way he crinkles his eyes, a playfull glint in them, blush on his cheeks and-

It won't work.

[lukie17]

The Next Morning

Part two of

Caleb woke up looking for your figure next to him but he only found a cold empty space. Confusion was replaced by worry as he heard your cries coming from the bathroom, Caleb rushed to the restroom as anxiety cling on to him. Had he done something to hurt you? Was he too intense the night before? Why were you crying?

He felt his soul left his body as he saw you in the shower, cleaning your body until you left a red impression on your skin.

"Pipsqueak?" Caleb saw you jump but you did not turn to see him "Tell me was wrong" He did not understand what he did wrong, yesterday you were desperate for him in the same way he had been ever since he was a teenager. In your eyes Caleb could see the wave of emotions that were plaguing you: regret, fear and even pain.

Stupid idiot, he should have know better, he should have know you better. He should have stopped you, wait for you until your head was not acting out of instinct and anxiety. Slowly, as if he were testing troublesome waters, Caleb stepped into the shower. You were not running away, but you weren't looking at him, it pain him how you flinched when he raised his arm to turn off the shower.

"I am sorry" his movements fast and swift as he used a towel to envolve you "Forgive me, pipsqueak. I should have know"

Swoly his arms moved to your body, waiting for your rejection, when it never came he pressed himself closer to you. His hands drawing soothing patterns in the skin of your arms, letting you cry until you decided to face him. Unable to resist the urgency of his touch, your body betrayed you and you his in Caleb's chest, the same way you used to whenever you had a nightmare or were scared. It felt like home.

"I am sorry" your apology did nothing to tame Caleb's anxiety. Gently he lifted your chin until your eyes meet each other's "I didn't mean to... I got anxious... I didn't want to lose you. I had to do something to make sure you would never go" your hands grabbed his face digging your fingers on his cheeks "I cannot loose you again. I can't lose my Caleb" desesperation filling your voice.

How was he supposed to react? Caleb had loved every second you were clinging on to him, but was that one the only reason? Is that the way you saw what you have done? It hurted him, he had loved you for years, yearning and waiting for an opportunity, waiting for you to feel at least a fraction of what he felt for you to not olose the Caleb you once knew. The possessive part of him, that he tried to buried, made his way to the surface, his big frame towering your small one until you were merely a breath away.

"What?" Disappointment and anger filled his voice "Is that what it was?" His fingers make his way to your throat "Is this some mean to keep your gege?"

"Caleb? I didn't mean"

"Fuck" his embrace holding you even tighter "Do you regret it? I need to know" Caleb last thread of patience had spanned "If you regret, if you think was a mistake, tell me now. We can go back to where it was... I can be your gege again, but please don't give me hope for you to just take away..."

For the second time your hand met his cheek, leaving and angry mark, this time a bruise would form. Pushing him on the mattress, you straddled on his lap, your hands covering his mouth.

"I regret it the way it happened! I regret that I acted out of fear and anxiety and not out of love!" Tears falling on his body, how he wanted to brush them away but he was unable to move "I regret that I did not wait until your last name was mine, to cross that line before our promise"

Promise? What promise? He didn't know what you were talking about, he made sure to remember every singles promise that he had made to you, yet he was unsure about what you were referring to

"Dummy!" A smile making a way to your face. Freeing his mouth, you slapped him on the chest "You have forgotten, don't you?" Bringing your hands together in a pinkie promise you looked at him "I, MC, swear that will be the bride of Caleb..."

Memories flooded his mind, a hot summer and falling trees. Two kids with scrapped knees and full of mud. A warm breeze ruffling their hairs as they leaned together, a pinky promise taking place.

"...I, Caleb will be your broom, to protect you and shield you..." the anger and desesperation going away "... Together forever..." your voices mixing together "Caleb and MC will be married together"

"Dummy" even though you laughed, the tears kept falling from your eyes "Dummy, dummy, dummy..."

"I am such a fool" Gently, Caleb pulled you closer, whipping away your tears "I am so sorry, pipsqueak" his own vision becoming blurry "I forgot... I won't forget again.. I am so sorry...I should have know..."

Your hand rested on the crook of his neck, tracing patterns in the burn scar's in his chest, unable to say something else. Fear, anger, happiness, relief among other feelings were running free inside of you, but the steady beat of living heart calmed you down, Caleb was alive, Caleb was back.

Caleb's was battling against his own feelings, Caleb knew that you regreted what you have done, but you didn't hate him, and for that moment it was enough. Soon, you would need to address the feelings that you both had, to navigate where you were going from now on, but in that peaceful moment there was nothing that the both of you dared to say. Caleb was going to make sure that no one would tear him away from him, not again.

[eteledhasanaxe]

the fact that I read that and saw red/white color scheme and immediately thought of DeKiller despite not even finishing that case and it being not at all Ace Attorney related in the slightest absolutely kills me

its not even been like four months since I've started playing/liking Ace Attorney but this fandom has already absolutely wrecked my brain and I love it

[loveshotzz]

what are some steve fics u find yourself going back to reread

pbv! steve by @carolmunson

slow motion love potion by @upsidedownwithsteve

boxer!steve by @rustedhearts

baby, kiss me by @superblysubpar

it’s simple and it goes like this by @usedtobecooler

wicked games by @stevenose

aftermath by @sweetsweetjellybean

[the-knife-consumer]

The weirdest thing in totk so far has been finding out that there was an intended method of finding mineru where you were supposed to get hints steadily on who the fifth sage was and you weren't supposed to just force your way through zero visibility thunderstorms for the sake of exploring and then getting jumpscared by a talking construct head and realizing you just triggered a major plot centric quest early to mid game with only two other sages