#like why is he losing sight of himself in opposition to god

[ipegchangbin]

saw u reblog a pervy changbin post 😩 spare some pervy skz thoughts maybe 🤲

— skz and perverted thoughts.

sub ! skz ot8 , dom ! gn ! reader 

🏷️ perversion. somnophilia. voyeurism. blasphemy. invasion of privacy. individual scenarios of 8 pining perverts. sorry anon for the late response!

— you’re the reason why bang chan never sleeps.

he knows that neither of you are together…yet. you usually sleep over at his place though, a one-bedroom apartment with an uncomfortable couch, so you’re forced to sleep next to him. chan never tells you this but he gets hard every night you sleep over. he refuses to admit—no, he will never admit that he gets hard to the idea of you sleeping soundly next to him, in nothing but your sleepwear. 

chan constantly thinks about waking you up from your sleep after you’ve taken your clothes off. chan knows that you sleep without underwear — he watched you slip into your pants without putting anything under — and he wants your bare skin on his. he hasn’t seen your eyes fluttered shut in slumber since you two face away, but he thinks about how you could dominate him with the mere awakening of your irises. he wants to shock you so that you can shock him back. chan wants to feel your heavy breath on his heavier exhales instead of the gentle sighs he so desperately wants to wake. he wants to grind on your legs, dig his face in your neck, and whine as you take care of him while half-awake. 

but no, he can’t have that, he can never have that, so he fantasizes. stroking his cock, once, twice, thrice, four times, while you count your sheep to slumber at the same pace.

— minho feasts on whatever eye candy you are.

he can only keep to himself for so long, staring from the chair opposite yours. he’s too dignified; minho hasn’t made his feelings clear with himself, let alone you, so he can’t do much. all he can do is look from a distance. stare. drill his eyes into every single inch of your smooth skin until his pupils dilate. fuck, you’re just his type. oh god, you’re so close yet so far. 

and he wants you to be close. close the physical distance. close in on the friendship and become something more. close, moan “minho, i’m so close.” he wants to have you cum on him, finally let yourself go after ruining him to the point he’s writhing and crying under you. after staring at your hands intertwined with your best friend’s, he realized so badly that he wants your hands on his neck, knocking the wind out of his system. choke him until he wiggles and begs wordlessly for breath—or for more? he can’t tell. he’d be willing to give up the act of being so stuck-up around you and offer a rare sight that only you can see. but no.

the only sight you see of him is a good friend zoning out. minho looks so distant but he’s there, fantasizing, daydreaming about your body, how fucking good you would sound while praising him. you’re so distant, yet you’re right there, like a mere feast for his eyes, but he wants you to eat him alive, feast on him the same way.

— it’s only you who can distract changbin.

your voice echoes through his head. changbin can’t focus on anything else and his vision tunnels. you’re the light at the end of it.

you told him off numerous times to do his job right. it had been a bad day and he tried to sympathize with you — but getting turned on from being scolded doesn’t count. he can’t help the thought of being told to shut up before being called all sorts of names. he daydreamed about getting pounded on the desk, the chair—maybe the floor, where you can ride and degrade him? he wants your fitted suits discarded alongside his. changbin just wants you to lose it on him, use him to let every drop of anger out, slap him, mark him, spit on him, use him. show your true colors instead of acting polite. break in front of him the way he breaks beneath you.

suddenly, you tapped his shoulder, then his screen, sternly reminding him to “get the fuck back to work, darling.” he’d shift his legs to hide his painful and leaking erection.

the cycle continued. you’d scold him, he’d get too horny to function, making you scold him again until it was only the both of you in left the office working overtime. it’s so wrong, getting off on your emotions that you almost can’t control. but damn it, your voice is too pretty, he wants to hear it scream, tell him off, again and again.

— you made hyunjin question everything.

the search bar has “friend walked in on me masturbating.” hyunjin can’t believe he typed that. it’s so unlike him to search for things that weren’t substantial, but maybe self-discovery is just as important. you aren’t watching anymore. but the question just…doesn’t quite cut it. 

he types again. “friend walked in on me masturbating but i liked it.” the results are dubious, some suggesting that it’s normal. some are porn videos — he watched as a lean, tall man got pinned down by another person, getting punished by someone peeping on him. he’s deleting the words key per key, tapping backspace until he’s on the last few letters. “i think i like my friend.” no, he already knew that long ago. “i want to fuck my friend.” no, he’d been fantasizing about that for years. you’re the reason why he masturbated in the first place, thinking of how you could ruin him, fuck his mouth with your crotch, drain him of his cum, fucking his own release back into himself. holy shit, hyunjin, that’s so bad, so bad…

“i want my friend to fuck me.” bingo. but not quite — he just can’t remove the image of your shocked, flustered face, the way you went all red, the way you hesitated and panicked. did you like what you saw? because his dick does.

hyunjin types again. “voyeurism kink guide.”

— jisung shouldn’t get too excited over you.

shock was written all over his face when he found out you liked him back, that you rejected your other best friend all because of him. imagine him riding the highs of the validation, basking in the image of you two being a couple. he loved that you saw nobody else but him.

imagine him riding his pillow to chase his high of release, basking in the image of that plush material being your lower half instead. he loved that you fucked nobody else but him.

maybe he got too pumped over the wrong things. shutting the door behind him and refusing to eavesdrop any longer, he shoved his pants down, frantically freeing his hard cock, and thought of you. you, possessive, in love with him as he was with you. jisung wanted you to own him, make him yours. he wanted to be shoved in between your arms and held up on the wall first before plummeting to the bed, whining and crying nothing but your name. he wants to forget his own. he wants the hands of his longtime crush to crush him and leave his ass bruised and his back arched.

he’s filthy. jisung stared at his hands, coated in cum that won’t stop flowing, wondering if you’re cool dating someone whose first thought about you was sex. sex with feelings, he swears, but he huffs and keeps going, overstimulating himself.

— it was you and a train ride felix couldn’t stand.

he was trying to read the tale of orpheus and eurydice, standing in the moving train, but he ripped his eyes off his book the minute you stood in front of him. stunning, amazing. curse god for making the train cramped today, his erection kept brushing against your legs.

felix felt fire surge between his legs as he took a whiff of your scent, an alluring aroma making its way down his system. you looked like a dream, like a doll that god herself sculpted out of love. he wanted to get a taste of you. he wondered if this is what couples in public transport felt like, dragging their hands down each other, feeling the other up through and under the layers of clothing. how much could he leak when one of your fingers traces down his v-line? felix wondered about the thrill of getting caught, the thought of whimpering just a little too loud for other people to hear, to shift his legs in the wrong way, hitting the wrong person, alerting everyone of your lewd antics. but why, why did he want you to do this to him?

you stood tall until you didn’t, losing balance on him. you thanked felix for catching you, but you didn’t turn his direction for long. like orpheus, he followed you, his eurydice: he can’t let you face him after everything he imagined. he tried not to drool and stared at the back of your head, hoping to only see your face after the train ride.

— seungmin’s the sinner you shouldn’t forgive.

was it his fault if you locked eyes with him first? he looked at the altar and scanned the image of the deity before him, questioning his morals, a feeling he hadn’t felt ever since he kept a penny to himself in first grade. 

he heard you chant in the pew beside him. “i offer my body to you.” he heard you say it, over and over, parts of your body folding into prayer position. you were hypnotizing to witness. seungmin couldn’t help but eye down your irresistible features, watched the glow from the lights hit your face and body in just the right way. he wanted to touch you, a living statue, and he wanted to put a show in front of the altar. he wanted you to ruin him, his upper half hunched over the head of the kneeler. or maybe he wanted to kneel in front of you as he took you in his mouth, tasting every bit of you, licking every drop of your essence as if it were holy water.

you were a fallen angel. sent from the clouds down to the earth to test his temptation, and he was giving in. but you weren’t a messenger, you betrayed your god, and you indulged in his sin, never forgiving him, damning him to the flames of lust for an eternity. he’s gross, but you’re an angel, and he’s chanting his prayer:

“corrupt me, corrupt me, corrupt me, i surrender myself, my body and life, all to you…”

— you should put jeongin where he belongs.

he’s insecure. for the first time in the decade-long relationship, he’s insecure about his place in your commitment. jeongin wasn’t sure if you loved him that much.

that was, until he “accidentally” found your journal entries. he also “stumbled upon” the messages you wrote about him to your friends. he remembered this thrill, similar to the time in the early stages of your relationship where he’d snoop on things such as your plush toys, shirts, underwear…he got a bottle of your perfume just to spritz it on his pants, pretending you were jerking him off from below.

now here he was, surfing through your written words about how much you loved jeongin. you truly loved your boyfriend — but nobody was like him, fucking into his own hand while seeing you gush over him in your friend’s messages. he wanted you to gush all over his cock, his body, his face, only to slap him and scold him, forcing your arms on his cheeks to make him face you in fear. he wanted you to stop him from dealing with your stuff, telling him to mind his own things — exactly the same way you found out he was messing with your underwear before.

jeongin’s thinking please, just please, put me in place, don’t make me go anywhere else, i’ll never doubt you again. i’ll drown in you. 

[lovelykil]

tired—

: ➛killua

note; wrote this bc I am very sleepy

"nobody say a word to me, I'm tired I need a nap." I mumble with the remaining energy I still had inside me, leaving my backpack by the door along with my shoes.

kurapika, and killua following behind me as I hear the door close and the sounds of bags being dropped on the cold wooden floor.

"alright, though dinner will be ready in an hour just a–"

"have killua tell me when it's ready or something.. im exhausted." I wave my hand in the air, sluggishly walking my way to my room without facing the blonde. I was far too tired to anyway.

"Yeah right.." the silverette scoffs, feeling rather drowsy from today as well. If anything he was looking forward to a grand nap after a long day at that hell hole they call school.

kurapika walks to the kitchen, the sound of his keys comes in contact with the hard surface as he sighs. "I still need to pick up leorio and gon.." He mutters, the wariness in his eyes told alot about the day he had aswell.

he could use a nap but refuses.

"can't leorio just pick up gon?" killua wanders over, questioning the tired blonde. kurapika shakes his head, leaning himself against the counter.

"his car is in the shop."

"oh"

"mmh." The two tired individuals stand in silence before one turns himself in the opposite direction.

"well, have funn." In a tired yet somehow teasing voice killua sets his hands behind his neck and walks himself away from kurapika who was about to reach out to say something but was quickly shut up by the sound of the door closing behind him.

the blonde groans quietly, a bit irritated as well.

"I have to do everything in this house.."

killua let's out a long sigh of relief seeing his bed, although not made, it remained the same when he woke up, but the way the sheets looked so fluffy and warm practically made his body give out. The bed was calling him and he was falling underneath its cozy, warm spell.

"god school is so shitty." His steps were slow as he approached the messy bed. His blue fatigued eyes scanned the bed, about to jump in and call it a day when he saw something move.

"tell me about it.." the voice spoke, it was a familiar one he knew. A tired one. The person moved the covers away to reveal itself.

"y/n?" killua said, his eyes widening at the sight he wasn't expecting.

"hii." You gave him a worn-out smile, leaning yourself against the bedframe. Killua, standing in surprise, much on his mind at the moment, but decides to ignore your uninvited invitation into his room and gets in bed nonetheless.

"I'm guessing you're about to leave now.." He gets himself settled in then looks over at you. You shrug, tilting your head.

"must've walked into the wrong room, can I stay?"

the boy blushes at your question, he looks to freeze for a second before turning over.

"I guess.." He whispers, he throws the blanket over his shoulder without any other word. He was tired yes, but currently also freaking out.

you want to stay here with him? On his bed? ALONE?

his face heats up hotter than a heater as his mind races, though he was about to explode when you wrap your hands around his waist as you rest your chin on his shoulder without warning.

you can tell he was on the verge of losing himself by the way he quickly stiffened up. You wanted to laugh but was too tired to do so.

you weren't sure why he always got like this I mean.. you two are literally dating and he still tends to freak out when you hold him.

it was cute, he was cute.

"cat got your tounge or what?"

"shut up.." you lightly chuckle. You nuzzle your face into his as he groans with his bright red face.

"you're so warmm kil, howw?"

his eyes shut close, brows furrowing in a flushed mess from your doing. "why are you so clingy? Let go!" He tries breaking away but your leg moves over his body, just nuzzling the tsundere more.

you end up on top of him, trapping the teen with your arms on each side of his head. His dark blue eyes stare into yours, he's stunned once again but this time very flushed.

"I'm tired, and you're warm." You move a hand to gentle hold his chin. Your thumb strokes his pasty skin, staring back into his pretty eyes.

"y/n–"

"can I nap on you" you blinked tiredly as you asked. The tone of your voice was soft and faint.. but you made a small smile in hopes he'd say yes.

with your thumb caressing his face and you ontop of him he really had no other choice, he was also pretty exhausted currently. His eyes softened but they darted away from yours, "whatever, just shut up and sleep.." His arms landed behind your back, looking back in your direction again.

he saw that tired smile of yours grow wide as you squealed lightly, falling ontop of his body. The boy smiled aswell, away from your view, pulling the covers over you and him.

"yayy you're the bessst"

"yeah yeah.." you kiss his neck, giving it a peck before resting your face there and closing your eyes peacefully in his grasp.

he was expecting to be alone, just a nap by himself but he did.. enjoy your company. His hand slowly rubs your back so to soothe you and himself. In a way It worked, you fell right asleep on his warm self as he did the same a few minutes later, slowly drifting off into a blissful sleep with the company of you.

bonus ;

'click!'

"oh yeah definitely saving this."

"leorio!"

"whaat?" kurapika gives the snickering tall man a look before he looks back at the pair in bed.

"they grow up so fast don't they?" the blonde mutters, a warm smile tugging at his lips. Leorio slips his phone back into his pocket, looking at the the cuddled pair.

"they do, don't they?" Leorio smiles as well. The two admire from the entry of killua's door, quietly and carefully.

but a disturbing loud voice comes rushing inside.

"KURAAPIKAAA GUESS WHA–"

"GON SHHH!" leorio and kurapika both cover the ravenette's mouth in a panicked rush.

"buhat kuwapika—"

"gon please!"

[ezra-editss]

I finally got myself to watch X-Men Dark Phoenix, after a lot of you warned me and told me not to.

I think what bothered me the most weren't the things that didn't make sense, but the fact it was so fucking serious. There were NO JOKES and NO HAPPINESS. It felt like they didn't have fun with this movie. This is so unusual for marvel movies and a scene like the one with Peter in the Pentagon in Days of Future Past, would've helped this movie so much. The only happiness we got were the minutes 8-18 and the very last scene.

Because I heard a lot about people being bothered with what they did with Charles, let's talk about that. I think he's blamable for some stuff and for some not.

Lying to Jean as a kid might've been the wrong choice, but it was a hard one and I get it. I also don't think it made that much of a difference overall.

Blocking away most of her power, technically not that stupid of an idea, terrible execution. He should've tried to help her control it, but more like he did with Erik. I think if she'd grown up with all her power, it could've worked. And if it wouldn't have, then he could've done it, if it was her wish. She didn't want all that power, so if she had tried for a long time and it just didn't work, I feel like she would've wanted it herself. So this is on him, like he admitted.

Can't say they did him wrong here tho, as he literally did this in the old timeline too.

Where they did him wrong tho was his reaction to Raven's death tho, because why was he barely bothered😭. And even tho I don't really blame him for it, HE would.

I might be alone with this, but besides some of his reactions or the lack of those, I do think the first half of the movie is, in that sense, not bad. I like the conflict and I do believe Charles could lose himself when he finds a way that works really well. He dreamed of that his entire life, so him losing sight of the thing as a whole, when he gets it, doesn't seem out of character to me.

Who was way more out of character was ERIK. I WAS SO MADDDD. At least in the middle of the movie. I first liked what they did with him, having built something that's similar to what Charles did. Protecting mutants. And then he tells Jean what he learned.. AND THEN GOES EVIL AGAIN?! I'M SORRY?! That was so god damm unnecessary, as we already had Jean and fucking aliens😭. And over Raven's death?? Why are they suddenly acting like he cares for her deeply, when all the other movies only ever proved the opposite. Like, yeah he's a better person now, I guess he cares more, BUT THAT HE'D KILL AGAIN? The only way I might've been ready to accept this, would've been if Charles had died. BUT EVEN THEN.

And then he's more mad than ever, doesn't even accept the "old friend", makes fun of Charles speeches, just to have "a change of heart" OVER ONE OF THOSE SPEECHES.

They should've just fought side by side, it would've worked, just as well.

THE ENDING THO?? I wanna thank you all, because noone spoiled me that they fucking live together now???!

This was a lot for my head, holy shit.

[colourstreakgryffin]

A quick romance story shitpost for my main babe Obanai simp needs!

🐍💜- Giggling Mess; Iguro Obanai x Jokester! Reader

The Hashira are surprised that somebody like the Serpent Hashira, Iguro Obanai would be interested in somebody like you, the giddy jokester Ice Hashira. You are total opposites of each other;

he’s unforgiving and serious, you’re bubbly and light-hearted. He can’t stand humour whilst you live off humour

But yet, Obanai finds himself falling for you harder and harder each time he sees you and his intense love for you is so obvious to all the Hashira… except the one where it matters the most… Dokusha

Obanai adores you, your adorable oneliners makes him crack a uncontrollable smile underneath that mask and roll his eyes. He loves how much of a jokester you are, nothing is serious to you and he wouldn’t trade your personality for the world

No matter that if it came off as annoying or not at times

Obanai does wonder sometimes if you even know how dangerous and intense your Hashira career actually is. You flaunter it around like it’s simply a work skill, not a massive life-changing responsibility

That must be why Obanai likes you so much, you never let the hell of the Hashira training nor the general situation damage you. He idolises your beauty, on both spectrums

You let loose your soft laughter, your goofy grin never fading. Tengen pushed back the gem-decorated headband over his head with a sassy smirk that you felt yourself laugh more at your friend’s silliness as you two stood next to each other nearby the flashy wooden Minka of the Master in the shining sunlight

Obanai felt his gut churn in fuming jealousy at the sight before him. You and Tengen match each other very well, you’re both playful loveable doofuses and it made Obanai feel inferior

He wasn’t your nor any woman’s ideal man; he wasn’t tall nor handsome nor so muscular, he didn’t laugh at your jokes or enjoy comedy, he didn’t laugh at all. Wouldn’t you prefer somebody like Tengen? Did he have to become like you to have a chance?

“I bet you 20 yen that you can’t make Iguro laugh” Tengen chirped in suddenly, plucking out a single paper Yen from the hidden pockets on his uniform pants and waved it in front of your face. You grinned, leaping up in a small hop in your step

“I accept! If I win, I get that 20! If I lose, you get 40!” You remark cheerfully, ignoring Tengen’s shifting expression and hopping off without another word. You didn’t hear Tengen’s open disagreement over you giving him double of what he originally bet, you didn’t care! You were a gifter anyway

You smile and arrived in front of the all-too- familiar tree of the Master’s huge backyard, where you found a single wild Iguro Obanai occupying it. In the moment, he was reading a parchment of paper. You pouted out in curiosity moments after as you approached the dark bulky trunk, touching the scratchy skin and internally calculated how you’d scale it

In a second or so, you managed to bounce up the large thick plant and to the stocky tree branch where the monochrome striped haori Hashira laid flat on his back, the snowy snake wrapped around his collarbone you knew as Kaburamaru coiled upwards from his laid-down position on the man’s shoulder and noticed your F/C zori

You fell to your knees and smiled cheerfully at the snake. “Heya!” You howl happily, waving at the serpent. His silted rose red eyes widened in shock

The sound of your voice made Obanai lunge upright defensively and nearly fling the paper away. He turned in the direction of the words with clenched fists but the slight panic and intent annoyance on his figure faded in no time. Thank the gods, it was only you

He would have been beyond furious if he was anybody else bothering him during the opportunity he is using to relax

You slammed your palms down onto the thick branch in front of you with that signature humorous grin of yours. Obanai jolted back in a mixture of defensiveness and confusion. “What did the grape say when it got crushed? Nothing, it just let out a little wine!”

You changed your goofy grin to a cheeky smirk, sitting down properly with a pleased sigh but your confidence almost drooped when you noticed that Obanai kept a frown

You lightly stuttered as you cracked another joke with that unchanging whimsy smile. “I know the boy who uses Thunder Breathing. My, isn’t his skills so shocking!”

You smirk delighted, keeping your eyes closed briefly but when they draw open, your heart nearly stopped. Obanai was still frowning, not a single ounce of his face had shifted

You were running out of time! You almost felt like panicking as your brain fumbled over to come up with another more funny joke. “A crazy wife says to her husband that moose are falling from the sky. The husband says; it’s reindeer!”

You openly giggle under your breath for a bit, just hoping he’d laugh alongside with you. Obanai looked at you unbothered, his tough glare basically said ‘can you shut up?’

“O-oh… sorry, then” You softly apologise to him, despite the fact he hadn’t spoke a word, looking away and cupping your cheeks with your palms in defeat with your body arched as you learn forward. You sat in front of him, your white-to-icy blue fade snowflake-patterned thigh-highs hugged your legs and made the blushed plush skin warm

How convenient that those socks you wore so proudly are from the same man you were trying so desperately to make laugh; Obanai himself

The uncomfortable silence was killing you and it went on for seconds too long. Well, until Obanai begun speaking, alerting your attention onto him. What was he gonna say now? You were quite curious as you kept your eyes firmly on him

“Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?” Obanai asks in a melodic tone, you crane your head and body back up with a confused expression

Moon? A restaurant? Is this a new place his best friend Mitsuri mentioned or something. You felt a bit out of the loop, why didn’t you hear about this sooner? You spoke in a confused stutter. “N-no? Wha—“

“I heard the food was good but it had no atmosphere” Obanai gazed at you, his mismatched eyes soft and sparkling with what you felt as love bleeding out. You bit your bottom lip, trying your best to stifle your laughter but it failed

In a matter of seconds, you were laughing and laughing so much, Obanai’s heart almost leaped to space at the scene in front of him. You look so simply cute in your little giggle fit

Choking on sizzling out giggles through your words. “W-w-where d-did you— g-get that one?” You bursted in a voice heavier than what you planned, your lungs burning and screaming out for air as you were laughing too much to breathe deeper than quick sharp breathes

“I made it up” Obanai responded in a kinda blank style. Kaburamaru coiled to face Obanai with a tilt of his smaller head. He seemed as confused as you were. You could have sworn he got closer to you

“You made it up?! That was amazing! As a jokester myself, that was so funny! I loved it!” You practically sung fearless praises as Obanai kept looking at you, his brain internally skipping over convulsions and screaming back at him how you enjoyed his efforts

“How many jokes you do make behind our backs? Tell me all of them! Please!” You chirp cheerfully, bouncing in place with excitement and wonder glazing over those pretty eyes Obanai felt his face burst into flames just looking at you

Obanai sighed softly, attempting but failing to ease his nerves. He briefly kept his heterochromatic eyes closed to recollect his composure but he opened with newfound confidence and looked back into your eyes

“They say nothing lasts forever, so would you be my nothing?” Obanai remarked still as calm, your heart dropped and your cheeks burned in one smooth motion. A pickup line, not just any pickup line, a really really cute pickup line. W-wait! Was he trying to hit on you?

You thought intently and quickly, hoping you didn’t look uncomfortable or freaked out in the moments as Obanai watched you in suspense and you decided on the whim. Why not, let’s go for it. It wasn’t like you didn’t like Obanai

You quickly propped back onto your feet whilst crouched and waddled over to sit right next to him, not speaking anymore and your smile smaller than the usual big goofy grin you’re known for. Falling back onto your sitting posture, you were mere inches away from him

“Did… you hate that… or something?” Obanai asked visibly uneasy and with nervous eyes, clearly a bit confused by your actions all at the same time. You have singlehandedly made Obanai the most confused he has ever been in his entire life in this mere hour

You kept up your quiet facade as you leant to press a kiss on his cheek and drape your hand atop his. Leaning back elegantly, you noticed how Obanai’s face exploded into a bright rosy red and his beloved snake Kaburamaru basically danced in a wiggle on the air to meet his eyes

You let out a more playful toothy grin this time as Obanai struggles to keep his eyes on you any longer, the two-tones of yellow and turquoise shooting everywhere else around him. He was so timid and it made you simply livid!

How could a man so cute be even cuter? You always asked but now, you know exactly how

“I’d love to be your nothing~”

Sorry if it’s bad

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Thirteen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: I'm sorry it took so long!! I really struggled to write this part ngl, but once it came I just went with it:) lots of emotions this time around, AS WELL AS some healthy pining in store! So we're finally getting somewhere, finally. Anyway, thanks to @procrastinatinglikeapro for the idea surrounding Mouse's gift to Matty- was struggling with that whole concept but we're going w it now! Hopefully you enjoy, thanks for all the love on this series too, means a whole lot xx

> Just a reminder! We left the last update with a surprise knock at the door:) You can look back here if you'd like, or just read the last little snippet below!

Masterlist

Watching them was all too lovely as well. For someone with such a cool front, Matty seemed to melt around Teddy, succumbing to that of the boy’s charm and easy going nature. It was sweet to see, surprising, but endlessly sweet. Had me losing track of time, in truth. Which is why I jumped and cursed the way I did when the door finally knocked. 

“Mémé!”

...

“Mimi?” Matty murmured to himself as he followed the instruction Mouse had left him with, clearing away the wrapping paper Teddy had so carelessly tossed about the room earlier in his excitement and settling the little guitar up onto the sofa.

His eyes lingered on the wooden instrument for a short second, recalling the moment when he’d first spotted it. He hadn’t thought much about what he’d been doing when he’d walked on by the shop window only to then find himself stumbling inside, spending God knows what on a little boy he’d only really met just the once. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though, even with how nervous he’d been for Teddy’s reaction.

Speaking of Teddy though, the little boy had practically charged the front door the second it had rang a few minutes ago, jumping up and down and tugging at the handle in his obvious excitement, whilst the woman sitting opposite them had frozen completely in her seat, like a soldier experiencing shellshock.

Matty thought they’d been having a good time overall, a brilliant time even! But then the doorbell had sounded and all of her smiles and her carefree laughter had been drenched in water, washed away as soon as she had stood up to answer the knock.

“Mé. Mé.” Came a drawn out voice behind him then, obviously having heard Matty’s shoddy attempt at it and deciding to sound the word out for him.

Matty spun around on his heel to catch sight of the toddler hanging off of the living room door. The kid was like their very own little monkey, always swinging off of something. Matty raised a brow at the correction he’d been given. “Me-me?” He tried again, beyond perplexed and wondering what the fuck everyone was going on about.

Teddy giggled happily at him and then shook his head, curls flying with it, Matty briefly questioned where Squeaks had gotten to.

“Mémé.” The boy sounded it out for him again and this time Matty caught the different accent that had filtered in, it was so prominent when the boy spoke that one word.

Matty’s forehead creased. “Mémé?” At Teddy’s buoyant nod, he grinned at having finally grasped it, “And just who might that be, mate?”

Teddy glanced over his shoulder before he pushed off of the door, letting it swing slightly as he hurried his little feet over to where Matty was currently standing, bin bag in hand. The latter dropped it though to take a seat on the settee, hoisting the little man up onto his knee.

One thing Matty had quickly learned in his short time of knowing the kid, was that Teddy was clingy. Not that that was a bad thing, Matty knew he could be just as bad some days. If not worse. But having someone seek that sort of comfort from him, out of all people, in such an intimate way made him feel necessary, as though he served a real purpose.

“Go on, let me in on the secret then.” Matty prodded, jerking his chin out ever so slightly to nudge Teddy's shoulder. He relished in the soft giggles it earned him.

“Mémé’s my Mémé!”

“Oh! Well, that makes so much sense, don’t it?” Matty remarked in return, rolling his eyes fondly at the unhelpful reply before he tickled the boy’s sides, “Don’t it?”

“Stop, Matty! I tolds you, I tolds you!” Teddy squealed, laughing so hard that he nearly slipped right on out from under Matty’s hold, but the singer propped him back up all too easily.

“You didn’t.” Matty grinned, having relented on his attack of the toddler, settling Teddy more comfortably into his side. He enjoyed having someone smile back at him with no other intention than just the simplicity of enjoying his presence, with kids there was never any ulterior motives. “Where’s your mum anyway, huh?”

“Right here.”

Matty’s head shot up to find Mouse now standing in the doorway wearing a strained sort of smile, a single suitcase behind her and then, “Oh.”

“Mémé!” Teddy pointed, dragging his eyes back up to meet Matty’s weary and startled face as he bounced excitedly.

Of course ‘Mémé’ would've had to have been Squeaks’s mum, because who else could it have possibly been? Who else would have such impeccable timing?

He was fucked. And Matty knew it.

Mouse must've seen the realisation that hit him too, because she used the moment to try and disguise the utter horror dawning on Matty’s face by clapping her hands and promptly glancing back at her mum from over her shoulder. “Mam! This is Matty. Matty,” She turned back to him, thankful to find that he’d sort of wised up to the situation they’d been shafted with and shut his gaping gob, “Matty this is my mum, Anaïs.”

Matty tried extremely hard to commit the pronunciation to memory, which proved to be a little bit easier when the toddler hanging off his hip started parroting it over and over again.

“Eh, excusez-moi! It is Mémé to you, mon chéri.” The woman answered Teddy with a soft sort of smile as Squeaks stepped aside to let her mother further in, aged eyes honed in on her giggling grandson.

Matty took the moment to admire the older woman, focusing on all the things her daughter had obviously inherited, the way she held herself, and the strength of her gaze when it finally landed on him. He swallowed thickly. 

“And you are Matty?” Matty nodded at her, not really feeling the way Teddy was now tugging on his fingers whilst the woman stepped even closer, gracing her daughter with a quick look that Matty couldn’t quite make out. “Ah.” She breathed before she finally smiled at him, a small thing, so different to the one he’d previously seen when she’d been teasing Teddy. “Ana is fine really, it seems you people always have a difficult time with it.”

There was humour there but Matty didn’t want to brush her name aside just for the sake of struggling, he’d get there in the end, he was sure of it. Just like how he’d gotten through a setlist full of songs edited by George, replacing most words with- well, probably best not to think of those two very separate things in the same context.

Matty struggled to control his sudden urge to grimace.

“Anaïs?” He stumbled slightly but then tried again with an apologetic smile and dipped brows, “Anaïs.”

“Mémé!” Teddy cut in with a uninformative correction, reaching upwards to poke at Matty’s slightly stubbled cheek. He was in need of a quick shave but seeing as he’d be heading up north for the holidays he’d foregone it, knowing his mum preferred him clean shaven. ‘Makes you look so much healthier, Matthew!’

The man glanced down, a thoughtless chuckle skipping out of his mouth like a rock over a lake as he shook his head closer to the boy’s own, letting his curls tickle Teddy’s tiny face. “Matty!” He laughed again, squirming before he too was shaking his hair in retaliation. 

Matty couldn’t quite help his beaming smile when he looked back up at the woman, who seemed very content with just watching the pair of them. His eyes trailed over her shoulder briefly to spot the way that Squeaks was currently chewing on her lower lip, silently fretting.

“Sorry, I’ll get it soon enough.” He told Anaïs with as much genuinity as he could muster up, oddly wanting to keep the woman on side. “It is lovely to meet you though, Anaïs.” She smiled in turn at the use of her name, even with Matty’s slight wince, and then dipped her chin at him. “I didn’t realise I’d be stepping on any toes dropping by.”

“Non, you are fine.” She assured him with a slight shake of her head, waving his apology right off, “My flight was delayed. I was worried I’d be keeping them waiting, so you did me a favour.”

Matty physically felt his shoulders sag with sudden relief at the woman’s words, glad to note that he hadn’t fucked much up by stopping in without a warning. Although, he tapped Teddy’s leg softly then to get him moving, “Don’t you wanna go say hello then, monster? I’d best be off now.”

Teddy’s eyes widened at that last bit and Matty was sure he’d never seen anyone move so fast. “No!” The boy exclaimed, wrapping his chubby little arms around Matty’s neck and holding fast.

Matty’s eyes widened just as he adjusted his grip better around the kid, beyond perplexed by the sudden change. “God, little man! Tryna take me out here?” He chuckled as best he could, voice a tad bit strained by the surprisingly strong hold Teddy had on his neck.

“Teds!” Matty heard Squeaks gasp out quickly, before she was already rounding her mother in a hasty beeline to help. “You can’t just-”

She huffed when Teddy only tightened his grip and Matty couldn’t help the other chuckle that slipped out.

“Teddy.”

“It’s fine, honest.” Matty assured her, a hand splayed on the toddler’s back whilst he stared over at Mouse’s oddly harassed expression. “Teddy, mate. I’ve got to head out now, but I reckon I can promise you a visit soon though. If your mum doesn't mind much.”

The pair of them shared a look then, but Teddy didn’t take to the ruse.

Matty pursed his lips to keep his growing grin at bay, knowing it wouldn’t earn him any points with Mouse, and then moved at an angle in an attempt to see the little boy’s face that was still hidden away in the curve of his shoulder.

“Teds, look. We can make a plan, yeah? ‘Cause I proper enjoyed that last little outing we had the other day- you know, the way you went down that slide at the park was crazy! “ Matty peered in closer and smiled at the sight of a blinking eye. “Or maybe you can come ‘round mine. I’ve got lots of guitars there, reckon we could mess about with them and annoy your mum until she goes mad.”

That had Teddy pulling further away, but only by a fraction. Matty noted the way not just Squeaks, but Anaïs too, was watching him now.

“Play ‘tars?”

Teddy’s small voice snapped him out of the apprehensive feeling that had started to coil. He blinked down at the kid, “Yeah, if you want. We can do whatever, yeah? Zoo, the park-” Matty sort of frowned then and glanced back up towards where Squeaks was now crouched before them, “What else do kids like to do?”

His whispered ask was rewarded with a breathy chuckle that lit up the girl's entire face and had her giggling away to herself even as her son squirmed excitedly in Matty’s hold.

“Zoo?” Teddy questioned him with big pleading eyes, “With the ‘guins? And the tigers?”

Matty felt his face pinch, “‘Guins?”

“The cold birdies, Matty! ‘Dem ones.”

Ah.

“Yeah, ‘course the penguins will be there!” Matty nodded resolutely, then turned back to Mouse, “London Zoo has penguins right?”

She snorted unhelpfully but Teddy paid their conversation no mind at all, apparently far too excited with the sudden prospect of an adventure to the Zoo. Looking at his face, Matty knew he’d have to find a way to make it happen.

“Right, we all settled then?” He asked the toddler, raising an eyebrow down at the tyke, suddenly wondering how he’d gone from pleasing a crowd full of fans to bargaining with a four year old. How his mum had ever managed to cope with the likes of him at this age was maddening.

Teddy looked up at him then with eyes squinted from the strength of his smile, he took a long second to deliberate the whole ‘letting go thing’ and then finally released Matty from his chokehold. 

“Cheers, monster.” Matty laughed softly, ruffling the kid’s curls before passing him off over into Mouse’s awaiting arms. 

“Hear, mum! Hear Matty?” Teddy quizzed her immediately, bouncing on her hip as she stood.

“I heard, love.” Squeaks chuckled softly before she turned to flash a smile in Matty’s direction, both apologetic and grateful. “You wanna say thanks to Matty for your present before he goes?”

“Ta!”

A bright laugh burst from Matty at that, but he shook his head and then forced himself back onto his feet, reaching out to tickle the little boy’s leg. “Welcome, mate.” 

And just like that Teddy was squirming to get down and go see his grandmother who appeared to have watched the whole scene play out from the sidelines.

Matty dimmed his grin into a smaller smile and let his eyes linger on the girl beside him, on the love she obviously had for her son and mother both. He wondered briefly what having that much love might feel like.

“I cleared up, by the way.” He mentioned quietly now that he was watching Teddy too, leaning into Squeaks’s side a little. “Figured it was only right, seeing as I’d been the cause and all that.”

She tittered lightly to herself, then pivoted to face him. “I appreciate it, all of it.”

It was obvious she wasn’t just talking about the clean up.

“No worries.” Matty shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling suddenly self-conscious, which wasn’t new but was also not appreciated. “I’d better be off, though, got a long drive and all that.”

Her brows rose ever so slightly before she nodded, as though she’d only just remembered he was meant to be on his way. “Yeah, yeah right. I’ll walk you out.”

Matty smiled, then turned back to the remaining two. “Monster! I’ll be seeing you! Be good and keep practising those chords for me, alright? I’ll be checkin' in.”

Teddy nodded buoyantly from where he had dragged his grandmother over to the sofa to view his gifted guitar, “Bye, Matty. See soon!”

Kid was a right little charmer.

Matty grinned back at him before allowing his eyes to meet Anaïs's own. “It was lovely meeting you, have a Merry Christmas.”

Anaïs granted him with a soft smile, one that Matty had only ever really seen mimicked by his own mum. “It was. Joyeux Noël, Matty.”

He nodded quietly to himself, the French infiltrating his mind. By the time both he and Mouse had made it back out into the hallway, the living room door now closed behind them, Matty allowed himself to voice his sudden thoughts, “You never said you were French.”

Squeaks quirked a brow at him in return, already pulling his coat off the hook and handing it over to him. Matty slowly shucked it on.

“Half.” She informed, watching him now from her place by the bannister, “And there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, Healy.”

It was teasing but Matty knew that truth rather intimately, Mouse was a maze of secrets. Her name, her son, her origin. He wondered over what else she had kept so carefully hidden, but bit his tongue when he thought to ask. Yet, she had said. Matty could deal with a ‘yet’.

“Seems so.” He hummed sarkily, although he was smiling again. He always seemed to be smiling nowadays. Then he went to double check he had everything in his pockets only to realise that his jacket still homed one last gift. “Shit.” He muttered under his breath.

Mouse’s brow dipped, “What?”

A surge of anticipation surged through him at that question, what indeed. What the fuck had he been thinking, more like.

He’d gifted presents to women before, friends, girlfriends, staff at gigs. But this one left him feeling all weird. The type of weird that you often felt getting caught with a girl at school, or mentioning a silly crush to one of your mates on the playground. 

His eyes flickered up to meet hers in the dimly lit hallway, fingers dancing over the envelope he had tucked away. 

“Matty?”

Matty forced up that familiar bravado of his and stepped on closer, plucking the present from the confines of his coat as if he hadn't actually had a second thought about it, and then held it out towards her with a sly grin.

“Realised I couldn’t come bearing just one gift.” He told her, widening his eyes and prodding the envelope closer so that she’d finally get the hint and take it. Her fingers grasped it carefully, like she was wary he’d snatch it back.

Then her warm eyes met his own again, “Matty.”

He didn’t think he would ever get used to the sound of her saying his name. No matter how she said it.

Matty straightened at it though, already knowing she’d try to give it on back before even opening the thing, and waved her on, “Go on, it’s right rude to deny a present, you know?”

That spurred a soft laugh out of her, ever entertained by his absurdity. But before he could cajole her a little more, her face was lighting up with a sudden realisation, “Hang on a sec.” She said to him and then darted back down the hallway, leaving Matty blinking in her wake.

It didn’t take her all that long to return, though the suspense she’d left him with had now jumped to new heights.

“Sorry,” Squeaks smiled sheepishly, the envelope still in her hand, only weighed out now by the small bag she held in the other, “Forgot this.”

Matty was back to blinking again, startled by the fact that she had thought to get him something at all, let alone in return. “Um,” He murmured, rendered dumbstruck, before her light laughter broke him free. “If there’s something dirty in there, I will be telling your mother.”

Her eyes narrowed but her lips curved, “If you can make it to her in time.”

“Ooh sending out threats now, are we?”

That smile of hers was both devious and full of amusement, “Always.” Then she pushed the bag towards his chest, “Go on, open it.”

Matty shook his head, though he still accepted the Christmas patterned bag full of red tissue paper. “I gave you mine first, so I can’t open this ‘til you open yours.” He shook the bag to further accentuate his point.

“That's how it works, is it?” Squeaks commented, eyes creasing in her mirth, but Matty was as stubborn as they came and met her stare head on. “Fine,” She relented with a gentler smile, as though she already knew she wouldn’t win this particular battle, and moved to hold the envelope between them, thumbing the seal. “But this better be something nice, Matty. If it’s stupid I will toss you out.”

He laughed at the fact that they were already standing by the door, “Already are, sweetheart. But nah, you’re alright. Just hoping you’ll like it.” 

Those eyes of hers flickered between his own again, left, right, then like ripping off a plaster she opened the envelope within a blink. As she grasped at the pages tucked within, Matty felt his resolve crumble somewhat, vaguely embarrassed by the many emotions he currently felt warring within him and the fact that he couldn’t wage how Mouse might react.

But all those thoughts and feelings were immediately sidelined when he heard her gasp, this breathy little thing that echoed in the small space between them and had Matty’s mind reeling.

“Matty.”

He reckoned that if he could get away with asking her to only say his name again, exactly like that, he’d record it and give it its own side on their next album. Fuck anyone who’d argue otherwise.

Her expression was one Matty had never witnessed on Mouse before. He’d seen her surprised (that day he’d turned up out of the blue at the studio), seen her happy (messing about with Teddy on Facetime, listening to the boy ramble and rant), he’d seen her awkward and stressed (at that charity event where he’d been all but glued to her side), and he’d also seen her tired (when those late night calls of theirs had ended with bleary eyes and sweet smiles).

Matty swallowed at the heavy feeling he felt corrode his chest.

“I can’t take these, Matty.” She argued, all but pulling him back to the present when she tried to hand the gift back to him.

He swatted her arm away, shaking his head with a tiny smile. “You can take them. What the fuck am I gonna do with 'em otherwise?”

She rolled her eyes but let his hand linger on the back of her own. “It’s way too much. I mean, how did you even manage it, how’d you even know?”

Matty laughed at that, “You’re really asking how I knew? Squeaks, babe, you bring him up almost every time we talk, you sing his songs when you’re cooking on call, and you never fail to mention him on your show. Even Teddy pipes up when he’s playing on the radio!”

Mouse had the nerve to look abashed at that. “It’s still too much.”

“Of course it’s too much. But I am, if anything, extreme.” Matty snipped back, smirking.

“But it’s Billy Joel, Matty! You can’t just buy a girl tickets to go and see Billy Joel!” Squeaks immediately argued back, though Matty noticed the way her eyes shone whenever she looked down at the tickets and how her fingers toyed with the paper ever so carefully.

“You’re right,” He agreed again, surprising her, “Good thing I got you two then.”

She gave him a huffy sigh in retort, one that had him grinning. “Matty.”

“Mouse.”

Her nose scrunched then, at the use of her name or the way he'd parroted, Matty couldn’t tell. “How am I meant to compete with tickets like these?”

Matty rolled his eyes at the stupidity of that question, “You don’t, I didn’t just give you them thinking I’d get something in return, Squeaks. I want you to have them.”

He was met with a drawn out silence then, her stare drifting back and forth between the tickets, himself and then back again. “Thank you.” She finally said, looking up at him with a wonder in her eyes that made Matty question whether she’d ever just been given anything for the sake of it.

“You’re welcome, love.” The smile he wore grew when she looped her arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. 

Hugs were a rare thing with Mouse, Matty had noted, unless you were four and had a mop-full of curls then you’d best not even think about offering her one. Though he had that last bit down tap, they didn't really do that sort of thing past a greeting.

Still, hugging her settled something within him, something he couldn’t quite comprehend but allowed to wander all the same.

She squeezed his middle once before they parted again and Matty did his best to ignore the slight sheen her eyes now held and the way she slyly wiped at her nose. “Really, Matty. It means so much.”

Matty felt his heart stutter at the tender look she wore, then smiled. “Just make sure you send me the odd video, alright? Or at least a pic of you all dressed up.”

She laughed when he winked but he didn’t let it deter him. He wasn’t a constant listener of Old Joe but a classic was a classic, and the man was exactly that.

“Won’t need to.” Squeaks told him firmly and when he raised a brow she grinned hopefully, “You’ll be coming with, won’t you?”

Of all reactions, it was baffling to Matty that he had not expected that.

“Me?” He asked her, needing her to clarify.

“I don’t see no one else standing here.” She snorted, but her grin dampened all too quickly at the expression that must’ve been plastered on his face. “You don’t have to, I know you’re busy and got stuff going. Just thought…”

She finished that with a needless shrug which had Matty reaching out, hand cupping her right cheek, fingers slipping gently into her hair, it was soft. “‘Course I’ll come. Nothing could stop me.”

Her eyes had widened momentarily at the unexpected touch, Matty was quick to notice, but couldn’t bring himself to pull away just yet, especially when her face softened and she leaned ever so slightly into his hold.

–

‘Course I’ll come. Nothing could stop me.

Those words played on a loop in my head for the rest of the day, taking me through into the late evening where I was currently stood in the kitchen making another round of tea. Chamomile for mam, green for me.

The words were a promise I couldn’t quite find myself believing.

Too many people had promised me things; promised to keep my secrets, promised to keep me safe, promised to be there, promised to come. But only a fair few had ever followed through.

Matty was an anomaly though.

In himself, and in everything he said and did.

It always left me thinking, wondering...

It was just as I was stirring the honey into the mug that wasn't mine that I startled at the soft brush I felt beside me.

“I was just coming.” I attempted to say, glancing over at my mum who now stood beside me at the counter, gazing out the tiny kitchen window.

She waved me off with a tender smile, taking over honey duty as she slid her cup closer. “Your mind has been elsewhere today.” She accused me and immediately I felt my hackles rise, ready to jump into defence mode, but she merely casted me a careless look. “You never mentioned this Matty before.”

The change of subject threw me, enough that I frowned and was quiet until she wandered on over to take perch at the table with both our drinks. I blinked, feeling the fight drain out of me, then followed after her.

The chair scraped against the tiles as I pulled it free and I cringed at the silence that followed, hoping it hadn’t stirred Teddy who had not long fallen asleep down the hall.

When the quiet remained, I finally took my seat, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug and pulling it in nearer. “I didn’t think to.” I told her, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. I was quick to drown it in tea.

My mum merely hummed, sipping elegantly at her chamomile. “He seems comfortable here. Teddy likes him too.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Thinking about earlier, the present Matty had gifted me, the one I’d given him in turn.

I could still feel the press of his hand against my cheek. So gentle, I’d almost wanted to break.

“They met about a week ago, an accident really.”

She hummed again, staring off ahead, and so I picked up my mug to keep myself from talking any more.

It had felt wrong, not getting Matty a present, which seemed so strange considering the circumstances. On how we’d only known each other a few short months. But I still couldn’t find it in me to ignore the feeling.

I could recall his face when he’d finally pulled away to peer into the gift bag I’d handed him, he’d been chewing on lip trying to dampen the sincerity of his smile...

Wary and still reeling off of the tender moment we’d just shared, I fidgeted with the envelope I held in my hand. It looked to be black but in the light it shone blue. It felt expensive, though I could see the way it had been fidgeted with, or held, like someone had kept picking it up only to put it down again.

Matty opened the bag with the same fragility I’d shown his envelope, rustling the tissue paper inside without much fanfare.

When he pulled the woolly item out from inside I felt all too stupid. What were his concert tickets to see one of my favourite musicians compared to a simple hat? I fretted.

I fish mouthed for a brief moment when his fingers swiped over the soft material, before my eyes finally darted up to meet his honeyed brown. 

“You got cold, that time we took you to the park. Teddy said it would be good for the next time we go.” I stumbled slightly, it wasn’t the whole truth, no. But I wouldn’t dare mention the hours I’d spent searching for the right one, none of them feeling anything like ‘Matty’ until I’d seen this redcurrant coloured beanie.

He stared down at the gift for a long second, leaving me to wallow in my pitiful gift and the hastily given thought behind it, before he smiled. It was kind and it was genuine and it had the air fleeing from my lungs.

“Well, I’ll wear it and think of you both.” Matty murmured breathily, his voice catching ever so slightly on that last word. I swallowed thickly and without thinking took his hand in mine.

He looked down at the joined pair and smiled, but our quiet moment was then interrupted by rather loud strumming that echoed out.

Shocked, we both jumped a tad at the sound but then laughed, listening to Teddy call for his Mémé to watch him play.

I went to let go and Matty almost let me before he lightly tugged my hand closer, pressing the woolly hat into my palm. “Put it on for me?”

Blinking, I grasped the beanie tighter and watched as his hand fell away. I nodded when I glanced back up at him, his eyes watching me closely, then stepped forward, fumbling to carefully place my envelope in the back pocket of my jeans before fixing the hat over the top of his dark unruly curls.

Having to tiptoe, I let my thumb skim the brim of it, just above the skin of his brow, so that I could fix it a tad. Then peered into his warm eyes once more, “There you go.”

Matty smiled, and oh did I love seeing him smile.

We didn’t speak as he roped me into another hug, arms latching around one another's middles. We didn’t share many of those but somehow they always felt right, and then when he stepped away I felt the faint graze of his lips against my cheek.

His fingers were catching the latch on the front door before I could even react, his smile still there, his eyes now shining with some sort of emotion I couldn’t place.

“Merry Christmas, Squeaks.”

I came back to then, at the feel of my mother’s hand cradling mine atop the kitchen table, my head turned to search her tender stare. “Glowing, ma chérie.” She reminded me and oddly, I felt caught.

“Maman.” I whispered, looking away, but all she did was gently pat the back of my hand before pulling back.

“Petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid.” Was all that she said, throwing me back to days spent when I’d only been a little girl curled up in her lap.

Little by little, the bird makes its nest.

Slowly but surely things will change. I just had to remind myself that change wasn’t always a bad thing.

[mars101]

Haunted To Meet You

☆ PAIRING/S = burglar!hyunjae x spirit!reader

☆ GENRE = angst, absolutely ZERO romance, uhm spooky (not but the setting is ig)

☆ WARNINGS = hyunjae breaks into a manor, and steals, and doesn't get caught. you're already dead, uhm reader gets played kinda?? (sorry..)

☆ WORD COUNT = 1.6k

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★ SYNOPSIS = after a successful break in at the empty manor in the forest, hyunjae not only steals precious valuables but also the heart of a lost spirit

★ RELEASE DATE = 11.01.24 (idc if its a day late from halloween.)

★ AUTHOR’S WELCOME = happy halloween season ! (NOT) who's ready to watch mars disappear for months again??? ok have fun i love yall

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Hyunjae was rich. Not in the conventional way, though, as he robbed people. Rich or poor, it didn't matter to him as long as he could make a profit. And he wasn't the only one in his friend group to hurt innocent people, too. Crypto scams, conning, fraud, cyber crimes, and even flat-out identity theft were an easy way for the friends to live the life they always wanted.

But even if you're in a group of intelligent people, you're still with a group of men. Which is why Hyunjae found himself at the abandoned manor in the woods during late October. A bet caused Hyunjae and Eric to compete on who can bring the most valuable objects out without getting spooked.

“Get ready to watch the footage of you losing later, Hyunjae~” Eric says, pointing a finger in front of the other male’s face as his other hand connects his stolen Meta Ray-Ban glasses to his phone. “Alright boys, you’re watching the winners' pov right now, it’s me, Eric! Ready to—”

“We can all hear you Eric…” A voice comes through an earpiece the two have in to hear the others and the rules for the bet. “Anyways.. you’ve got an hour and a half. No running off, no stealing what the other had already claimed, and yeah. 1,2,3 go-” At the sudden countdown, the two men quickly bolted to the manor’s entrance. Hyunjae deciding to open the front doors by giving it a few hard kicks while Eric uses a random rock to break the fragile windows.

When the door was forced open, it was like a cool gust of air engulfed Hyunjae's body as he took in the sight of the dark and grand interior. “You have a flashlight, right?” Hyunjae asks the man jumping through the window before taking out his own flashlight. Eric doesn’t reply, but instead, he pulls out a flashlight and quickly flashes the bright light in Hyunjae’s eyes. “See you around.. or not!” he grins before running off to a random corridor.

Opposite to Eric’s instincts to explore everything, Hyunjae takes his time to look around the entrance, taking notice of the many paintings that lead to the staircase in the middle of the place. But a few old paintings wasn’t going to satisfy his need to find a more valuable object. This is why he found himself following the wind blowing through the front door (and Eric’s window) heading up the grand staircase.

A creak on each step made Hyunjae more aware of his surroundings, the flashlight in his hands now being moved from side to side quickly than before. The closer he got to the second floor, the more uneased he felt. There was a chill running through his back, the hair on his arms were starting to stick up, and a faint whisper was heard in his ear. Usual factors when walking through an abandoned building but it’s different as Hyunjae has never experienced this, but also, there’s a visible silhouette among the shadows beckoning him down the never-ending hallway.

“Holy shit- Hello??” Hyunjae calls out to the figure as he blinks his eyes open and close again and again, hoping that it's just a figure of his imagination. In response to his hello, Hyunjae watches as the figure walks towards a room in the empty hall. The slightly ajar door starts to slowly creak open as the figure floats past it. “Oh my god, are you kidding me? Why does it have to be me?” he mumbles as the voices in his ear (the guys) get louder.

��follow it!’

‘say hi’

‘this guy thinks he's the main character.. ’

The buzzing of the constant voices coming through makes Hyunjae irritated. To the point where he pulls out the earpiece in frustration and shoves the tiny electronic in his pocket. Grumbles of mumbles leave his mouth as he walks down the hallway. His eyes try not to look into the room the figure went into, but when he walks by the door opens wider, as if it's welcoming him in.

With the sight of the dark curtains draped over the grand windows and numerous white cloths covering furniture, his head is saying not to go in. But his heart is pounding against his chest at the idea of what he’ll find. Hyunjae steps closer to the doorway, his feet having a mind of their own as they lead him into the room.

Once both of his feet are planted inside of the room, he freezes. Instantly, he feels the chill run down his back again. As if a hand was trailing down his spine. His eyes dart around the room, he's too anxious to look behind him so he tries to find comfort in what's in front of him, and he does.

All of the nerves on his body leave him as soon as he takes sight of the pendants and jewels by the window. His shoulders that felt like they had the weight of a hundred men are now as light as a feather as he ignores everything else around him and makes his way torwards the windowsill.

A breathy ‘holy shit’ leaves his mouth as Hyunjae's eyes look over the gems. Some pieces are broken off from each other or cracked. But the value of them are still there. Out of all the pieces, one pendant stands out from the rest. A red oval-cut ruby that shines with the moonlight seeping through the window's curtains.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

Hyunjae looks beside him and jumps as the ghastly figure takes form beside him. The slightly misty air slowly conjures itself into the shape of a person. The figure takes no mind to Hyunjae's reaction as their fingers ghost over the pendant's gem.

“When I was alive, it was a gift from my father.. He said it's as beautiful as the heart inside of me.” The figure whispers out into the atmosphere. With the sign of no malicious intent from the ghost, Hyunjae comes closer to the windowsill, his hands hovering over the many jewels and stopping above the ghost's ‘heart’.

“So you're dead.? Why are you still here? In this.. dark and scary manor..” Hyunjae asks, his eyes never leaving the ‘heart’.

“I'm trapped.”

“Trapped?”

Hyunjae finally takes one look at the ghost and notices the sad look that fills the apparition's eyes. “Trapped in the manor?”

“Not only that.. But my soul's in there.” The ghost softly points a finger to the pendant. Hyunjae's finger gets cold as the spirit's own finger gets closer. “All of the other pendants are broken because everyone else was able to escape. I'm the only one left..”

“Ohh..” His hands pick up the pendant, playing with it in his hand. “So, how would you be able to escape?”

“The other's dissappeared when their pendant was either cracked or broken. So maybe if!-”

“I would have to break this?” The spirit nods at Hyunjae's words. “Me? Break this beautiful, expensive jewel..?” His hand pockets the pendant before moving to grab all of the other broken gems on the windowsill.

“If I break it the full value would be lost, wouldn't it? I'd definitely win a million with a Jewel like this.”

“What?!-”

“Hyunjae!! Put the ear piece on!! Times up-” Eric yells out from the bottom floor, interrupting the ghost.

The male taps a finger on his ear to tease the ghost, “Sounds like I've got to go. Maybe next time.” All fear that Hyunjae felt when he stepped in was lost as he realized how harmless the manor’s spirit was. The usual confidence that he has fills the man's body as he walks out the room backwards, winking at the spirit fading away in anger.

As he walks back down the stairs, hands grab and pull at the bag on his arm but he doesn't care. “Eric!” Hyunjae hops off the last two steps, he quickly reaches the younger male who's holding three of the big paintings.

Eric does a little spin with the paintings on him, “Like my finds? You look like you're missing a few things”

Hyunjae taps on his bag, the movement of the jewels making a rattling sound, before his hands start to ruffle Eric’s hair, “All in this bag, let's go and see what the guys think.” He leads the way out of the manor, despite the october weather the outside is warm compared to the building.

“Dude- I'm so disappointed.. I didn't see any spirits at all.”

“I did. It was very, disappointing though..”

☆★☆ AUTHOR’S GOODBYE = IDC IF IT SUCKS I HAVE NO YIME NO FREE TIME I HAVE TOO MUCH AP LITERATURE WORK TOO MUCH HTML WORK TOO MUCH STATS WORK TOO MUCH STUFF TO DO AHHHHHHHHHH I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT I HAVE NO TIME AND I TOLD SOMEONE I THINK THEYRE ATTRACTIVE YESTERDAY AND IM STILL LEFT WITH NO ANSWER WTFFFFFFFFFFFFD AHHHHHHHHHQHSHJAJAJABDHAJAHA GET OUT GET OUT GET OUTTTTTTT

☆★☆ TAGLIST = @sanasour, @boomhoon, @loonaluvz, @deoboyznet

[walkswithmyfather]

Jonah 1:1-3 (NLT). [1] “The Lord gave this message to Jonah son of Amittai: [2] “Get up and go to the great city of Nineveh. Announce my judgment against it because I have seen how wicked its people are.” [3] But Jonah got up and went in the opposite direction to get away from the Lord. He went down to the port of Joppa, where he found a ship leaving for Tarshish. He bought a ticket and went on board, hoping to escape from the Lord by sailing to Tarshish.

Jonah 2:1-4 (NLT). [1] “Then Jonah prayed to the Lord his God from inside the fish. [2] He said, “I cried out to the Lord in my great trouble, and he answered me. I called to you from the land of the dead, and Lord, you heard me! [3] You threw me into the ocean depths, and I sank down to the heart of the sea. The mighty waters engulfed me; I was buried beneath your wild and stormy waves. [4] Then I said, ‘O Lord, you have driven me from your presence. Yet I will look once more toward your holy Temple.’”

“Saying Yes (When We Want to Say No)” By In Touch Mysteries:

“We don't have to worry about what happens if we obey God—He will take care of us.”

“In a fish’s belly, Jonah recommitted himself to the Lord’s purpose. But the popular Bible story about the consequences of disobedience doesn’t end with Jonah obeying God. The book actually concludes with him acknowledging why he didn’t want the job—and with the Lord chastising him for his selfish reasons.

Jonah was afraid that the Ninevites—who were a threat to the Jews—might actually repent, and God wouldn’t destroy them. Jonah admitted he wanted to see them wiped out: “Therefore in anticipation of [their salvation] I fled to Tarshish” (Jonah 4:2).

Believers resist doing God’s will for many reasons. Sometimes we say no because we dislike the probable outcome of obedience. Like Jonah, we also can lose sight of spiritually important things and focus on our own desires. But if the Lord calls us to act, He will take care of the end results. Our job is to obey.

What form of selfishness might be keeping you from obeying the Lord? Maybe you are too angry with your spouse to work on your marriage or too hurt to welcome back a repentant child. But we’re not to be ruled by feelings, no matter how strong they are. The heavenly Father calls us to obey Him. The final results may surprise you, particularly how blessed you will be for having followed Him.”

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 5: Do Not Disturb

WC: 5199 | R: Explicit | CH: 5/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

CW: Mention of eating disorder

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4

*EDDIE*

Steve was avoiding him. 

Not that they’d seen that much more of each other before now. Since day one they had been on opposite schedules, so it was natural that they wouldn’t, but for the week between the laundromat incident, and Eddie’s latest hook up, Steve had come home for his lunch break every single day. 

It wasn’t long, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes together, both awake for once. Eddie would just be waking up and starting to get ready for work, and Steve would sit at their little table and have his sandwich and fruit. 

Steve was making an effort to be around, to get to know him, to be his friend. The whole thing was so sweet, adorably domestic, and comfortable—apart from the absolutely raging sexual tension on Eddie’s side that he prayed the other man wasn’t picking up on. 

The more he saw of the real Steve, the more Eddie grew to like him, but ever since the debacle that was his night with Evan… he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his roommate. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. 

Eddie had seen Steve. 

Steve just didn’t know it. 

Eddie’s crush—yes crush, he had to admit to it now, he was too far gone to keep denying it—was rapidly growing out of hand, and when Steve suddenly stopped coming home for his breaks… Eddie got a little desperate. He found himself waking at dawn every morning just to watch through barely cracked eyelids while Steve got out of bed, stretched, and got ready for his day. 

Eddie never moved, never said a word, just watched.

What was he turning into?

Who fucking does that?

It was creepy, honestly. He was being a creep. 

But he couldn’t seem to stop.

The worst part of it all was that he didn't really know why Steve was avoiding him. 

At first he tried to convince himself he didn’t care. He’d been happy enough that they were becoming friends, but after all, he was the one desperate to quell his stupid crush and distance would do just that. 

But he did care. Which was the crux of the fucking problem. He cared so fucking much it was driving him insane.

It didn’t matter that they’d never be more than friends, that Steve was straight and Eddie had no chance with him, he still hadn’t so much as looked at another guy in days. Let alone thought about picking one up to bring home. He couldn't. He’d felt sick after sleeping with Evan, so clearly fucking with other people wasn’t the way to get over this and get Steve out of his system. 

Eddie didn’t know what to do anymore, but he had to figure it out soon or he’d lose his mind. 

He got absolutely hammered about it on one memorable night. The second the bar closed he sat himself down with a bottle and didn’t get back up until it was gone. 

It hadn’t helped.

He wound up drunkenly wandering the streets of town in the middle of the night mumbling to himself about how unfair it all was, and god dammit if he was really going to fall for someone did it have to be Steve fucking Harrington? He’d laughed at himself, cried a little, and just barely managed to sneak in and make it to his bed before Steve woke up. 

The liquor had done nothing to dampen the flames of this thing that was burning a hole in his chest that got bigger by the day, and it had only served to give him one of the worst hangovers he’d had in recent memory.

He could run.

Out of sight, out of mind, and all that.

He could just leave. There was nothing keeping him here, and Steve would probably be happy to have the room to himself anyway. Chrissy would be upset, sure, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken off on her. She’d understand. The bartending gig was only for the summer anyway. Temporary, like everything else in his life. A job was a job, even if he did really like the place and his boss was a pretty cool guy. He’d find another one. He always did. 

He thought it over all through his shift on Thursday night. Maybe he’d call Wayne, see if the old man was up for an extended visit from him. He could hide out there for a while, lick his wounds, figure out what the fuck he was doing with his life. 

It was as good a plan as any.

Mind made up, he went straight back to the motel after closing, figured he’d get a few hours of shut eye and as soon as Steve was gone for the day he’d pack up and get an early start on the road. 

If he was lucky no one would even see him leave and he could avoid answering questions.

He didn’t notice that the hang tag had been swapped until his hand was literally on the doorknob, and stood frozen, his heart beating wildly until the sound of voices inside the room coming closer startled him back to life. He bolted down the hall and around the corner, in no mood to see whatever pretty girl had finally managed to get Steve’s attention.

Except he must be a masochist because he actually did need to see.

Eddie stayed low, peering around the corner, making sure to keep out of sight as he waited for someone to emerge.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and a man he didn’t recognize stepped out, followed closely behind by Steve himself. 

Eddie let out a quiet breath, relief flooding him for reasons he couldn’t admit—not a date then. Steve must have been hanging out with a friend from work or something and didn’t want to be interrupted. That had to be it.

Still watching, he saw the unknown man slip something into Steve's hand, both of them speaking low. Eddie strained to hear but couldn’t make it out. 

Not that it mattered. 

He didn’t even know why he was still watching them really, but was it his imagination or did it seem like the two men were standing… awfully close to each other? There was definitely a tension of some kind in the air too. Maybe they’d been fighting? 

Then, and this was the moment Eddie realized he must be fucking dreaming, because the guy leaned in and kissed Steve. 

On the mouth. 

And Steve—kissed back. 

Granted It was short and sweet, but still very much not something a guy, especially a straight guy, would do with a friend.

Eddie reached down and pinched his own thigh—hard—nearly yelping out loud in pain when he did.   

Not a dream then.

He pulled his head back around the corner and slid down the wall, sinking slowly to the floor. His vision swam and he felt the blood drain from his face—suddenly he couldn’t get a deep breath, as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the world. 

What the fuck was happening right now?

He knew what he saw, but it didn’t make any sense. 

It couldn’t… 

He wasn’t… 

Steve couldn’t be like him! It was one of the irrefutable facts of the universe: the sky was blue, water was wet, and Steve Harrington was straight. 

Except, apparently, he wasn’t. 

Steve was also probably going to come looking for him any minute and Eddie did not want to be caught sitting here having a panic attack when he did. It would be obvious that he’d been spying and that was one more thing than he could deal with right now.

Eddie pushed to his feet and rushed down the steps, running for the line of chairs set up around the pool. He sat down in the same spot he’d found Steve in twice before, taking deep even breaths, staring out at the pool watching the surface of the water ripple with the breeze as he willed himself to calm down.

What did it matter anyway? Nothing had changed. So Steve wasn’t as straight as Eddie thought—so what? He was still off limits. There was a reason Eddie didn’t date. Even if Steve was interested, and let’s be honest, he definitely wasn’t, Eddie could never be with him. 

Steve Harrington was dangerous. 

Eddie pulse still raced as the sound of footsteps came up behind him. He stilled, It was much too late to pretend to be asleep, in seconds Steve was beside him, then rounding the front of the chair, and Eddie had no choice but to finally look up.

“Um, hey,” Steve said.

He looked nervous—sounded worse. Eddie didn’t know what his own face was doing, too busy trying to hold back tears that were suddenly threatening to spill from his eyes. 

Hey? 

That’s all he had to say for himself? Hey?

The first whisper of anger sang through Eddie’s mind and even as he knew it was ridiculous, and unfair, he latched onto it like a lifeline. Better to be irrationally angry than to let himself feel the hurt that was clawing its way up his throat. 

Steve lied—had kept this from him, even after Eddie had been so open about his own sexuality. And okay, sure, maybe he hadn’t exactly been the friendliest guy at first, he couldn't blame Steve for not coming out to him in the beginning, but then they’d talked and obviously Eddie was safe.

Steve could have told him if he’d wanted to, was the point, but clearly he hadn’t wanted to—and now Eddie felt like an idiot. 

He was pissed off, and he had no right to be, and it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

He got up from the lounge chair, fists clenched and fighting the urge to wrap his arms around himself he walked right past Steve without a word, making it halfway to the steps before the first tear rolled down his cheek. 

Steve didn’t follow, or at least not right away. 

Eddie kicked his shoes off and climbed into bed fully clothed, throwing the blanket up over his head. A few minutes later he heard the door to their room open, could almost feel Steve staring at the lump that was him hiding under the covers like a baby. He heard the creaking of springs that told him Steve had laid down in his own bed too. 

When the creaking of springs told him Steve had laid down too, Eddie finally risked a look, moving the blanket just enough to see with one eye. In the dark he saw Steve stare at the ceiling for a long while—his eyes eventually falling shut, breath evening out into sleep.

Eddie stayed wide awake, watching the rise and fall of Steve's chest for what felt like hours before giving in and getting up. The sun was almost up anyway, he needed to get out of there.

As quietly as he could, he grabbed his keys and wallet off the dresser and snuck out the front door. 

He always felt better when he was moving so he got in the van and drove—no destination in mind, just Metallica blasting from his speakers loud enough to shake the windows, but even that wasn’t enough to completely drown out his thoughts. 

What was his plan here anyway?

Just last night he’d been dead set on packing his shit and getting out of Dodge. In light of his little discovery about Steve he’d forgotten, but wasn’t that all the more reason to go?

He wasn’t sure now. He didn’t know how to feel. Even before, he hadn’t really wanted to go, if he was honest, he just thought he had to.

And now he’d taken off without any of his stuff. He couldn’t go back to get it now, not if there was a chance he’d have to face Steve again. Maybe Chrissy could ship it all to him? 

Coincidentally, just as he was thinking about her he spotted Chrissy walking across a parking lot. He thought she was a mirage, it was so fucking early, but she did always like her morning workouts. He slammed on his brakes, pulled into the strip mall, and parked a few spaces down from the door she’d gone into. 

And then sat in the car panicking for ten minutes.

She was his best friend and he was freaking out. He should just go in there and talk to her. 

And say what exactly?

That he was attracted to Steve and he was mad about it? That he’d thought his biggest problem was developing a crush on his straight friend but then it turned out that he was actually not so straight? 

Yeah, Eddie, just out the guy because that would be a super cool thing to do. 

Could he tell her that it was actually so much worse, because he was catching feelings for the guy, and now it was potentially an option?! Except it wasn’t–it wasn’t really an option because Steve definitely slept with that hot guy last night, and probably wanted nothing to do with Eddie, and Eddie didn’t really do feelings anyway but he was pretty sure that if push came to shove he would break all his rules for Steve Harrington.

No. 

He couldn’t say any of that. 

A sudden movement caught his eye and Eddie looked up to see Chrissy speed-walking towards him, looking confused… and a little concerned. 

Shit. 

He started the van again and threw it in gear, peeling out before she could get too close. 

As much as he would have loved to keep driving around aimlessly, gas wasn’t free. He stopped when he found a diner that felt reasonably far enough from the motel that he could safely assume no one he knew would come waltzing in. 

He sat at the counter for a few hours, mind wandering as he ate, slowly polishing off two plates of eggs and an entire pot of coffee, trying not to think about how much better it was when Steve made it for him.

He imagined what things might be like had he given Steve a chance sooner, if he hadn’t been such an asshole when they’d both arrived in town. Maybe Steve wouldn’t have felt the need to hide from him. Maybe he would have liked Eddie back. Maybe they could have spent all these nights together in one bed instead of two.

But that was fantasy, not reality.

Even if things had played out that way, nothing good ever stayed good. 

He’d watched his parents' relationship fall apart right in front of him as a kid. His dad said he loved his mom, but then good old Al was hardly ever home, staying out till three in the morning nearly every night, uncaring that he was leaving her behind at home to raise a young boy all by herself with a broken heart. He cheated on her, constantly, until finally she had enough and left.

Leaving little Eddie behind.

Al had never really wanted to be a father, so he’d quickly dumped Eddie off on Wayne’s doorstep—the only decent thing that man had ever done for his son.

He’d seen it again with Chrissy. She’d come to him bawling her eyes out, screaming and crying about how she couldn’t do it anymore, how awful Jason was to her, and yet refused to leave him for the longest time. Eddie didn’t understand it. She said it was because she loved him, making it sound like something she couldn't help but do, like it was a curse.

Eddie had been forced to watch helplessly as Chrissy nearly wasted away under the weight of Jason’s so-called love. She tried so hard to turn herself into the person he wanted, a person he wouldnt hurl mental abuse at like it was some kind of fucking game. Eddie stood by her and did what he could, tried to show her that she was worth loving all on her own—exactly the way she was. He promised her over and over again that he would be there for her no matter what, even when he was terrified watching her slowly kill herself. 

The more he saw the more it became clear to Eddie that love was a trap, not the precious gift that books and movies try and make it out to be.

Love was bullshit, a trick at best, and he wanted no part of it.

Afternoon arrived and Eddie had a decision to make. 

He was due in at the bar soon, and honestly, he was in no condition to work after not sleeping all night but at least it was something to do—a distraction. 

He walked in the door of Tide’s right on time for his shift, and wanted to turn right back around.

What was he thinking? He couldn’t stand here and serve beer and pretend everything was fine. 

Oh well, he was here now. 

He headed around the back to clock in and almost tripped over his boss who was crouched down refilling one of the syrups for the soda machine.

“Shit, sorry. Hey Danny.” Eddie said, sounding exhausted even to himself. 

“Dan, Eddie. How many times do I gotta tell you—call me Dan. Every time you say Danny I think my son is lurking around here somewhere.”

“Sorry, bossman, just slipped out.”

Dan finally looked up at that, letting out a low whistle. “Christ kid, you look like shit. You sick or something?” With a groan he pushed himself up off the floor, wiping his hands on a spare rag before shoving it in his back pocket.

“Or something,” Eddie conceded, tilting his head.

His boss gave him a long considering look. “Listen, why don’t you take the night off. I can find someone to cover, it’s no big deal. You just worry about whatever it is you got going on.”

Eddie could have cried he was so relieved. Dan really was one of the good ones. “Thanks man, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, kid. See you tomorrow?” 

For a second Eddie hesitated. He didn’t even know where he might be come tomorrow—if he was staying or if he was running. 

“Yeah, Dan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said eventually, unsure if it was a lie. 

Eddie didn’t go far, somehow winding up by the beach, suddenly possessed by the desire to stare out at the ocean. He’d been in this place for weeks and had yet to set foot on the sand or in the water. He wasn’t exactly a relaxing on the beach kinda guy, but even he could admit the view was beautiful. 

He parked down the very end of the street, closest to the place where big rocks jutted out into the water and there were less people around. He got out, leaving his shoes behind and rolling his pants up to his ankles. It was too hot to sit in the van, and if this was his last night here he might as well get the full experience.

Though it was late in the day the sand was still hot under his bare feet, making the saltwater feel that much colder on his toes once he reached the shoreline. It was calming, the sound of the waves crashing lightly around him and he felt his whole body relax as he watched the shallow waves rush in and out.

He stood ankle deep in the cool water for a long time, staring out into the vastness of the ocean and thought he might get it now, why some people liked this so much. Being faced with something so huge and endless, it made you feel small—and somehow it made your problems and worries seem smaller too.

Eddie made his way back to the van just as the sun was beginning to set, climbing up to sit on top of it like he used to do all the time when he first bought it, back when he was still just a stupid kid. He gazed up at the sky, admiring with a new appreciation as it shifted from blues and whites into fiery shades of orange and pink. 

Three sharp knocks on the side of the van snapped him from his reverie, and the last voice he expected to hear called out, “hey, can we talk?”

Eddie spun around so fast he almost fell off the roof, breath catching in his throat as he locked eyes with Steve. 

He looked terrible. 

Though, that wasn’t saying much because even on his worst day Steve Harrington was breathtaking to look at. There was something about his eyes though, a tightness there. He looked… hurt. 

Eddie ignored a brief flash of guilt, letting all that anger from the night before flare to life again.

And he knew, oh he knew it wasn’t fair but he thought back to what it had felt like to see Steve kiss someone else, what it’d felt like to learn Steve liked men but clearly didn’t like him. Seeing that look in Steve's eyes, as though Eddie had done something to him last night and not the other way around, it set his blood boiling. 

“Talk about what?” Eddie snapped.

Steve’s eyes darkened and Eddie couldn’t help but smirk. 

Good, he’s pissed off too. 

Because anger Eddie understood. He could work with that. Fighting—arguing, was second nature, it was all the other shit going on in his head that he couldn’t reckon with. 

“For starters you can tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

No, he could not—he could barely explain it to himself.

Eddie shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s bullshit, Eddie. Just admit it. You were so pissed off that you left! God forbid you're the one being kept from your bed for an hour. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it when you were doing it to me.”

“That’s not…” Steve had it all wrong. Eddie practically growled his frustration, sliding down the side of the van and landing hard on his feet right in front of the other man. “I don’t fucking care about that.” 

“Well what is it then, Eddie?” Steve began, throwing his arms out wide. “Because all this?  You running away this morning, calling out of work, and getting all up in my face right now? It’s not convincing me that you’re not angry.”

“I saw you last night.” Eddie blurted out.

Steve frowned. “What do you mean, you saw me?” 

“I was just getting back for the night and I saw—I saw him leaving.” 

It was, possibly, the shittiest way to go about telling Steve that he knew that he was queer now, but in his defense he was running on fumes and possibly misplaced anger, so tact wasn’t his strong suit at the moment.

“Okay…” Steve trailed off, looking confused. “So?”

It threw Eddie so off guard he almost stumbled. He didn’t know what reaction he’d expected, exactly, but that was not it. 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Steve crinkled his brow. “What, that I had a date?”

“No!” Eddie huffed, wondering if Steve was playing dumb on purpose to force him to say it—just to embarrass him further. “That you’re into guys! Why didn't you tell me you aren’t straight?”

“I—” Steve blinked at him, looking even more lost than before. “Eddie, I don't understand. I thought you knew?”

Eddie wanted to scream… so he did.

“How would I know that?!” 

“Because I came out to the girls years ago!” Steve shouted back. “I assumed Chrissy would have told you!”

Eddie raked a hand over his face. 

Jesus Christ. 

“She would never out someone like that. Unless you explicitly told her she could tell me, she’d assume it was your secret to tell.”

“Oh,” Steve breathed, mouth hanging open as though that possibility had never occurred to him. “So, you’re mad because I'm bi and I didn't tell you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Eddie trailed off, his pulse beginning to race as he thought back on every interaction he’d had with Steve since they both arrived at the motel. 

All those lingering stares, the coffee, the ‘you make me nervous, Eddie’, inviting him to lunch…

If Steve was bi, and if he thought Eddie knew this whole time—it painted things in a very different light.

Oh.

Eddie swallowed hard.

“And that’s the—only reason?” Steve said.

No.

“Yes.” Eddie said, voice shaking.

Steve took a single step closer, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes, unblinking as he studied his face. Eddie had said yes, hadn’t given himself away, but he suddenly felt so exposed. Like somehow Steve knew, like he was seeing right through him. He fought the urge to squirm.

Very slowly, giving him plenty of time to move away, Steve raised his hand and cupped Eddie’s cheek. 

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath. It felt like he’d been touched by a live wire, his entire body lighting up with it. When he didn’t pull away, Steve leaned in, still moving painfully slow, as if he knew that one wrong move might spook him.

Their lips brushed and Eddie's eyes fell shut of their own accord. A cry bubbled up in his throat. Inside he was at war with himself—his brain screaming at him to pull away, or better yet, push Steve away and tell him this was a mistake. That whatever he thought he’d seen on Eddie’s face was wrong. 

But his body knew what he really wanted. 

Eddie tugged on the front of Steve's shirt, pulling him even closer as their mouths slotted together like perfectly carved puzzle pieces. Steve’s hand moved from Eddie’s cheek to his hair, fingertips scratching lightly at his scalp. Eddie groaned into Steve's mouth at the feel of it and received a deep moan in return, a sound that was better suited to a bedroom than out here on the street. It sent all the blood in Eddie’s body rushing south and he knew he had to stop before he lost even more of himself to this.

He forced himself to break this kiss and step back. Steve tried to follow but Eddie threw a hand up, fingers splayed on the other man's chest to stop him.

“Stop, Steve. You don’t want this…”Eddie panted, still trying to catch his breath from their kiss. “I don’t want this.”

I want this so much it scares me.

Steve didn’t push forward again but he stood still holding Eddie’s gaze, defiant. “Don’t tell me what I want.”

“What about your pretty boy from last night?” 

He had to make Steve see, this was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment on both their parts.

Steve started to reach for him again but stopped mid motion. “I don’t care about him, I care about you.” 

Eddie shook his head. He didn’t believe that, he couldn't believe that. People like to say shit like that but they don’t mean it—and why the fuck would Steve still care about him after everything he’d done?

“You don’t believe me?” Steve asked. 

He sounded almost wounded and it made Eddie’s chest tighten painfully. Still, he shook his head again, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Do you know what I did this morning when I woke up and you were gone?” Steve gently placed his hand on top of Eddie’s where it still  rested on his chest. “I panicked. I checked the drawers and closet to make sure your stuff was still there because I was terrified you’d left for good while I was sleeping. I waited around for hours to see if you came back. I even stopped at the bar to see if you were at work. I had to find you—because I was worried, and because I–I had to tell you how I feel.”

Eddie pulled his hand back abruptly, cradling it to his body like he’d been burned. He wasn’t strong enough to stand here and listen to this. Couldn’t look into Steve’s earnest face and continue to deny what they were both so obviously feeling. 

“Well, I'm sorry you wasted so much of your time on me.”  

He quickly turned on his heel and walked back onto the beach, but not before he saw Steve's face fall, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

Steve didn’t follow, and when Eddie finally looked back, he was gone.

He sat on the sand until well after it got dark, and couldn’t stop thinking about what it had felt like to finally kiss Steve, wondering what else he might have said if only Eddie had let him. 

I had to tell you how I feel.

Steve's words echoed in his head, taunting him with what ifs, but Eddie had completely shut him down—and why? 

Because he was a coward. 

Because he knew that if he ever felt that way about someone it would destroy him beyond recognition and he’d never be the same. 

Because it would be far too easy to fall in love with Steve Harrington.

He feared love and the power it held over people, always had, but in the quiet moments, in the middle of the night when he was all alone, he could admit that he still yearned for it, if only a little. 

He’d seen love go bad too many times, but then, he’d seen it do wonderful things too. Even as they danced around each other he recognized it in Chrissy and Robin. They would die before ever hurting each other, and when the day finally came that they got their shit together, it would be a beautiful thing. 

Maybe when it was with the right person, it didn’t have to be so scary. 

And maybe, if he was brave, he could have a beautiful thing too.

It was late when Eddie pulled his van back into the parking lot of the Buckingham. His legs shaking with nerves as he climbed the stairs that would lead him back home, to the room he shared with Steve. 

He had no plan, no speech prepared. He didn’t even know if Steve would be awake, or if he’d even be there at all. Eddie wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see him again.

The lights were off when he entered the room, the sound of Steve's breath, deep and rhythmic, filling the air as Eddie sat down on the edge of Steve's bed and gently stroked a hand through his hair. 

Steve’s face was pinched even in sleep, as if the hurt Eddie inflicted on him in the day had followed him into his dreams. He hated himself for it and made a silent promise that if Steve gave him the chance, he would do his best to make up for all the pain he’d caused. 

In time, Steve stirred under the movement of his fingertips and gradually blinked himself awake. 

“Eddie?” 

Eddie moved his hand from Steve’s hair to his face, lightly stroking over his cheek. Steve let out a soft sound of surprise but leaned into the touch without hesitation. 

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, and I'm so sorry.”

Chapter 6

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world💜

Taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark @estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester @kacatshi @warlordess @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @garden-of-gay @meela86 @gregre369

[flipperbrain-awakes]

The Warleggan Ball by flipperbrain-awakes

Ross leans against a wall in the large room and contemplates the tumbler of brandy in his hand. George does not skimp, this amber liquid is quite good. Ross is well acquainted with fine brandy, risking much himself to import the best available through less than legal means. He scans the room, it is between dances and most of the guests are clustered together in groups, engaged in flattery and idle conversation. He had quarreled with his wife an hour ago, he knew his surly attitude and lack of attention had angered Demelza, and he could certainly understand why. Yet at that moment he was incapable of bending, of admitting he was wrong. And rather than making it up with her, he continued playing cards. His grief and outrage over the disgusting treatment of his friend Jim Carter, which ultimately led to his untimely death, had rendered him powerless to rise above his mood. But by God, Demelza is the last person to deserve the sharp-edge of his ire, and now he feels incredibly ashamed at his behavior. 

He watches his wife chatting merrily with several solicitous gentlemen across the ballroom, without a doubt she has many would-be suitors were her husband not standing in the way. She glances at him, her eyes still flashing with annoyance and hurt, she is ravishing and haughty and so very tempting. Demelza is wearing a new gown, its fabric selected particularly for this occasion. It is the color of Spring and covered with delicate leaves and stems. Her décolletage is framed with the tiniest diaphanous ruffle which projects the opposite of demure, rather than disguising, it accentuates her bust and she is fully aware of its effect. 

Ross has had enough drink this night, he sets his glass aside and walks over to speak quietly with the leader of the small orchestra assembled in the southern corner of the room, a few coins are discreetly handed over. While likely the poorest of manners to divert the musical program toward his personal goals, he cares not and strides determinedly toward Demelza. She sees him coming and her brows gather in anticipation of protest but Ross does not give her an opportunity to refuse. He takes her by the hand and leads her to the center of the dance floor. Demelza initially resists his embrace, she is still put-out and a little embarrassed by their earlier exchange… but then she turns her head and looks into his eyes and her anger melts away, he can be damnable at times but his feelings for her are written on his face. 

Ross takes her in his arms as the music strikes up and begins to dance a dance that he has only seen once before, he holds his beautiful wife, his hand sitting familiarly at her waist, and leads her in The Walse. The steps are not truly known to him but he believes he can manage a fair representation, he has some skill at dancing though rarely used. The onlookers at the time he first witnessed this exercise were scandalized by the closeness of its participants, and from the expressions on many a face, they are once again. He grins inwardly at this but Demelza’s visage, her fine features gazing up at him, he is nearly overcome with desire. She is his complete focus, the only thing in this world that truly matters. That he could act an idiot and lose sight of that, well, he is an imperfect man.

They are a vision to behold on the ballroom floor, Ross expertly guiding in his version of this dance, Demelza following his lead like a woman who has been trained in this since girlhood. Their bodies move together instinctually as one, gracefully drifting and turning and whirling together. All eyes are upon them, but theirs are only for each other.

[45cementry-gates]

This Starving Heart

# 3. Accidents - I

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“How did you get hit?”

“Hmm?”

“During practice…how did you get hit?”

Ishan tried to keep his tone even and unbothered. 

The opposite of what he was feeling inside. 

Shubhman had buried himself in his blanket roll and was scrolling through his phone while half asleep. 

Something was….  off about him. 

Ishan couldn't recall anything specific which made him think that, but he could pinpoint some moments where he just knew. 

For example, right now, the sudden panic in his sleepy eyes at a simple question. 

“I…”

Apparently There was no snarky or sarcastic reply waiting to pop out.

Ishan paused the running episode on his tab and turned to fully Face his roommate. 

Something is off. 

“I got distracted.”

And then he buries his head inside the blanket roll before Ishan can form a Retort. 

So Ishan just snorts and turns back to his tab and resumes the episode. 

Ten minutes later He realizes he's losing the plot because he can't focus. 

Not when his mind keeps repeating and rewinding every single interaction he's had with Shubman in the past 24 hours. 

He's been like this since the morning, he realizes. 

Closed off, dazed, jittery, ‘distracted’...as the guy called it. 

But… .why? 

The pending episode doesn't hold his attention again that night. 

When he finally puts his tab away and closes his eyes, he dreams of silly smiles and flighty eyes. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The Next day, after their morning practice ends, they all head straight to the dining hall for breakfast. 

Except Shubhman , who insists on taking a shower first and runs back to their room. 

They all finish their breakfast and he grabs a plate before heading to his room. 

His roommate hasn't contributed to raising his blood pressure in the past 24 hours, and Ishan feels like that's a feat he should personally reward him for. 

Except when he reaches his room and opens the door-

Shubhman is there. 

Shubhman is covered in glistening drops of water, wearing nothing but a loosely tied towel around his waist and blow-drying his hair.

Ishan allows himself two full seconds to just stare at his naked back. 

Then he fully enters the room and the door shuts itself behind him.

Shubhman visibly flinches and turns. 

“Your hair and makeup maintenance was taking too much time, so I got your breakfast.”

But his eyes never drift towards the plate. Instead he looks at Ishan, then at the floor, then again at Ishan, then at the wall towards his right. 

After a minute of awkwardly making his eyes dance around, he simply says,

“Um… can you…can you get out please?”

. . . .

Ishan probably would have thrown the plate at him if not for the ‘please’ added in the end. 

“Excuse me… What?”

He keeps the plate on the bed before his initial instinct to hurl it takes over. 

“I'm changing…so, get out!”

He's Louder this time, but it just sounds whiny to Ishan.

He grits his teeth.

“I…brought. You. YOUR BREAKFAST! and you're telling me to get out!?”

He probably shouldn't shout like this, but at the moment, he can't be bothered to give a damn.

“I didn't mean it like that! 

Ugh… I'm changing…why can't you just get out for two minutes!?”

“Why should I get out!? 

You change clothes everyday, what's the big deal anyway?”

“I Want some PRIVACY FOR GOD'S SAKE! 

GET OUT ALREADY!”

Shubhman almost screams the Last part. 

Privacy? What privacy? They change clothes in front of each other all the time. 

Ishan has no idea why it's suddenly a big deal. 

But before he can convey what he feels (mixed with some profanities), the loosely tied knot of the towel around Shubhman's waist comes undone. 

He squeaks and tries to grab the falling corners with one hand while trying not to drop the blow dryer he was holding in his other hand. 

The sight of his roommate awkwardly trying to hold the blow dryer while trying to hold the towel together is……hilarious. 

So hilarious that it instantly makes him forget how pissed he was two seconds ago. 

Shubhman has turned a hilarious shade of red and is desperately trying to tie the towel back together while balancing the dryer. 

Ishan can't help but give into the laugh that's building up in his throat. 

His Roommate is trying to glare at him but it fails as his face and ears are flushed while he's hunched over trying to keep himself covered. 

He finally stops and takes pity on the poor guy who looks close to tears after being laughed at.

He walks towards him and Shubhman starts backing away. 

An odd, thrilling sensation runs through him when he sees the usually smug guy completely embarrassed and backed into a corner for once. 

That just tempts him into bullying the guy even more. 

His chain of thoughts might have shown themselves in his expressions as Shubhman panics. 

“Wait... Ishan? Ju- just Wait a second…I- .…….. ISHAN... STOP!?”

Ishan doesn't stop. 

He takes slow steps and doesn't stop until there's barely a foot's distance between them.

He takes the dryer first, turns off the switch and places it on their bedside table. 

Then, He grabs the towel. 

“Let go, Shubhman.”

He doesn't.

Instead, he holds on tighter, screws his eyes shut and shakes his head in a ‘no’. 

Ishan gives the towel a tug once more and then uses his full strength to simply snatch it.

Shubhman flinches and almost curls into himself while trying to grab it again. 

“Stay still for a second, Idiot.”

Ishan holds both ends, brings them together and ties them into a proper knot which won't fall open in two minutes. 

He looks up and just….stares. 

Lowered lashes shyly look at him and instantly turn away. There's a light flush on his cheeks that goes all the way down to his neck. 

His ears are bright red. 

What a pretty sight. 

Ishan steps back. 

“Finish your breakfast quickly and come downstairs.”

He turns around and walks out. 

“Oh and- "

He takes one last look at the flustered guy,

“learn how to tie a knot please. You don't want this to happen in the dressing room.”

The way his face reddens kind of boosts Ishan's mood for the rest of the day. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Gods I took Wayy too much time to post this... Will try to update regularly from now on.

(key word - try)

Also, the timeline is a bit off (because I'm dumb) but this is just ishan's pov in between the week that shubhi mellows out. It will continue for the next few chapters now.

Please gimme feedback /comments they serve as duel for writing. ฅ'ω'ฅ

Tagging : @hum-suffer @bimesskaira @ishuess @fortunatelycrazyyouth @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @athena-swords @happypopcornprincess @deeee60 @melancholicmonody @hanaahaa @roseromeroredranger @books-butterbeer @imjellyjenny

Also Do tell me if y'all want me to add or remove you from the taglist ❣️

[landwriter]

67 and/or 38!

alright the last one of these I tried to answer is currently an 8K WIP so here goes nothing [ins. ralph wiggum ha ha I'm in danger gif]

We've got Hands by Barns Courtney on deck, a fun little rock anthem about meeting a cutie at a show and then losing their number and trying to find them. Going looking in the streets even!

This would be a fun missed connections AU - both humans or else a Dream who is taking mingling with humanity a LITTLE too seriously, a little like a bender, and a Hob who organizes shows, sometimes does security for them. It'd be a little love letter to a very specific brand of twee indie romcom films. i will not name a setting or a time period because that was the thing that ruined me last time!!

So one night, at a show - not one of his - Hob sees Dream, it's a fuckin' coup de foudre. The thunderbolt. Love at first sight. Dream is wearing a leather jacket, black lipstick, and a determined sort of expression that suggests he is a) utterly shittered and b) here looking for a fight.

Hob gets it. He does. He used to go looking for fights all the time. He watches from across the crowd as Dream finds his. When he takes a punch grinning, like a fucking lunatic, not even defending himself, Hob shoulders his way across and intervenes to try and make peace. Dream has, of course, chosen the most unlikable possible person to get into it with, and when certain Objectionable Comments are made, well, it's a bad look, he knows, but Hob decks the guy anyway before his buddies throw him out. And then Hob is left to deal with Dream, who is kicked out too, for starting it, except kicking him out actually means taking him home, because Dream is too drunk to get back to his, and also refuses to tell Hob where he lives.

Dream is flirting with Hob the entire way back, and saying things like "You need not have come to my defense," and sort of feeling up the arm Hob has offered to steady him with, and just. Just staring a lot at him, with very blue eyes. Hob resolutely deposits him on his sofa with a glass of water and a quilt he actually knit himself, and then goes alone to his room. After a second thought, he locks the door. He does not trust his resolve, not with this man.

Sometime in the morning - morning for decent people who weren't up until 4 AM, not yet morning for Hob - he wakes up and sees Dream standing in his room, like the world's hottest hungover sleep paralysis demon. "What the fuck," says Hob, muzzily, "I locked that."

"Why," asks the world's hottest hungover sleep paralysis demon, "Are you afraid of me?"

Hob, more awake, remembering last night, says, "No. But you were very drunk. And very persistent."

"I'm not drunk right now."

"Clearly still very persistent," says Hob, not only more awake at this point, but also considerably more in love with this stranger.

"I feel like shit." He says it while looking at Hob and sounding tremendously regretful. Hob honest-to-god blushes. Later, he thinks. In the actual morning. After a good breakfast.

He lifts up the covers. "Well, come on then," he says. "We can still snuggle."

Dream crawls in, and Hob nuzzles his face a bit into his hair. Dream sighs happily and settles himself into Hob's arms, presses his bony back into Hob's warm and naked chest. All the tension melts out of him. Hob wonders what sort of breakfast his stranger would like. Starts mentally planning something, and then dozes back off to sleep. When he wakes up at his morning - noon - the space next to him is empty and the bed is cold. But there's a phone number on his hand, and a smiley face.

Only Hob drools, when he sleeps, and the last three numbers are hopelessly smeared. He panics, a little. Starts dialing numbers, looking in the phonebook, asking around at shows with his stranger's description. It's the opposite of trying to find a goth in a haystack. That would be so, so much easier than this.

Dream, for his part, had to leave for work, but it's fine. He's sure this man will call him. He knows where he lives, of course, but Matthew insists he has already acted 'sufficiently fucking unhinged' and 'cannot show up on some guy's stoop, he lives in Greenpoint dude, you will get the cops called on you'. So Dream tries to wait. He thinks, over and over, of this man who threw an easy punch in defense of his honour and then looked, bizarrely, bashful about it, who threw the same arm around him and used it to tug him closer and huff softly into the back of his neck the next morning, and Dream knows it's not exactly the normal speed of things, but he's in love. He's in love, and his happy confidence that he was going to be phoned the same afternoon - or, maybe he was busy, the next day then - or on the weekend, surely? - or - has vanished.

It's not his stoop. That's what he tells himself when, on the fifth day of not hearing anything, he finds himself picking up oranges and putting them back down again at the bodega a block from the mystery man's apartment, staring at the door as if sheer willpower might summon him. He starts getting flowers for his sisters at a Greenpoint florist. At his lowest moment, he does an entire load of laundry at a laundromat three blocks away, and spends the whole time staring out the plate glass windows furiously people-watching. Maybe he doesn't even live there. But it had seemed like a home. It had - felt like one. More than Dream's own apartment ever has.

Hob is giving up hope as the week wears on. New York is huge. Brooklyn is huge. What if he was just a tourist? What if he lives in Delaware? He didn't look like someone who lives in Delaware. He's even fallen behind on his fucking errands because he's been going to every show he can find, shows that he thinks would be his stranger's scene, staring at crowds looking for black hair, black lipstick, blue eyes.

And after nearly a week of these mortifying shenanigans, he finally sees him again - at the bodega of all places - and Dream looks, frankly, furious, until Hob holds up the back of his hand, the faded incomplete phone number (he morosely started avoiding washing the spot after fearing it might be all he would have as a memento), and Dream realizes that Hob had wanted to phone him, he had.

Hob hands him the sharpie he always keeps in his pocket, says, "Here. For next time. Something that lasts longer."

And Dream, of course, takes it from him, wearing the same wondering small smile he had when Hob invited him to come cuddle, and then he's staring at Hob again, except this time he's not drunk, he's not drunk, but they are in Hob's local bodega, which Dream apparently either does not know or care to consider, because suddenly strong hands are wrapping around the back of his neck and he's being kissed, sweetly and hungrily, and Hob is making a piteous noise of happiness into his mouth, and Dream is slotting a thigh between his legs, mother of Christ, right in front of the sandwich counter. Hob pulls himself away and breathlessly asks, "Can I take you home? Again?" and Dream smiles and takes his hand, the one with the faded blue scrawl Hob can finally wash off, and pulls him out the door.

They're half way down the block before Hob remembers he forgot to buy the gnocchi. He makes them go back for it, because he's pretty sure they'll be hungry in a couple hours. And he still owes his stranger a good meal.

[esseegg]

Hobie Brown x Reader [a trying duet - Ch. 1]

Fic summary: Hobie has lost his voice, both literally and figuratively. He's a few weeks into the whole "mute Spider-Punk" gig, and he's still trying to figure out what that means — silence to someone so loud, that is. As he wrestles with his identity, you offer a new set of eyes on things he thought he knew so well. Together, the two of you relearn many things: voice, meaning, and the duet between two hearts.

Ch. 1 synopsis: You meet London's spider, his taste, and his improv sign language.

Notes: gender neutral Reader, slow burn vibes, if coffee shop AUs started in 1970s music shops instead, transcripts included for Hobie's writing, POV change

London’s spider had a habit of losing himself in the moment. Concerts, battles, Molotov cocktails — you name it, he’s done it. Silence was a stranger, though. He never liked flirting with it too long. When he did, well… he wandered.

Hobie was a few hours deep into his trek along the city’s urban web. Long gone was the center, in which blaring advertisements and one too many armrests on benches watched over the streets’ people. Now, he was walking the threads that were old brick and mortar paths along the perimeter. Old-fashioned lamps of shops now closed stared at him, dull and clouded, as he passed. Bridges loomed over the block, reeking of an Industrial Revolution rust that had him wrinkling his nose from the first breath in. Silence was punctuated by the slap of his boots. Every now and again, he had to shake off copies of yesterday’s rain-soaked newspaper. The ink of pigs’ names often stuck under his soles. Usually, that’d amuse him a tad, but right now, he was…

Why was he out here again?

His hands sat heavy in the pockets of his leather vest. In his right, he started to fidget with his favorite guitar pick. He was thinking, thinking — till his thumb caught a chip in the plastic. With a slight frown, he stopped.

That’s right.

He was looking for a new guitar. Huffing under his breath, he turned on his heel to retrace his steps (or lose track of them too). Right as his boot met brick, though, a series of twangs danced with his silence. He paused, ears chasing after the tune. (If off-tune tuning could be called a tune, that is.)

Plucks at an ascending G(?) string led him further down the block. Past the lamps and bridges, he spotted a shop window alight with humble gold. In the center of the off-color window frame, just behind a cash register that looked too big for the counter it sat on, there was a figure. Both their back and the guitar’s faced Hobie, a blend of simple black and acoustic brown. He might’ve thought the sight a photograph — till you turned a tuning peg the wrong way. His chest puffed with a breath of laughter. And with that, he went inside.

The shop’s muddy-looking hanging bell gave a funny tink! when the door swung. You peeked over your shoulder, cocking an eyebrow when the man’s wicks grazed the bell.

Damn. Talk about tall.

“Afternoon.” Setting the guitar against the counter, you faced your first and only visitor so far this week. (On Saturday, no less.) “You here to browse, or you got something in mind?”

The man cocked a brow at you in return. You couldn’t tell if it was to mock your expression or to judge your lack of the “customer service” tone.

Either way, his gaze shifted to the wall of secondhand guitars that were hung up with neither rhyme nor reason. Some had sticker residue staining the body or neck, while others ached a dullness from worn off polish. Opposite of that wall, there was a visual cacophony of other instruments: yellowed drums, scratched-up saxophones, a minus-10-or-so-keys piano, and God knew what else. To tie it all together, there were a few lonely racks at the shop’s center full of cassette tapes and vinyl records.

It was the racks that drew the man a little further into the shop. He picked up a record, noting the vibrant spray paint and smudged fingerprints that replaced the original cover. You saw his shoulders twitch with what was maybe a chuckle. With a twirl of his fingers, he turned the vandalized cover towards you and tapped at it with his finger.

“Oh, that?” You chuckled, loud enough for both of you. “Yeah, a couple of kids came in and sold it to us last week. Said their grandpa didn’t want it anymore since they redid the cover and all.”

His lips twitched with a smirk. Holding a hand out, he gestured to arbitrary heights, ranging from his knees to his chest.

“How old?” you inquired. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ten, twelve. Why? You looking to support some local artists?”

That got another slight jolt out of his shoulders. With a low rumble in his throat, he slid the record across the counter.

“Good choice.” With a face just short of a smile, you started to ring up the record for him.

While you were punching the grimy, dust-ridden buttons of the cash register (and putting up a damn good fight, mind you), the man eyed the guitar that you had left half-tuned. All of a sudden, you heard a thwip and the acoustic bang of wood on wood. Your eyes shot up, locking on the instrument that he now now cradled in his hands.

“Was that…” you paused, squinting at the guitar for damage (or any new damage, rather), “you?”

He replied with a crooked bow of his head. You might’ve thought it an apology, if not for the way his lips curved up at the corner. Smugness had a new subtlety, apparently.

“Alright… Well, you looking to buy that too? I was just working on the strings. Might need to replace them, though. They sound kind of shit, as far as I can tell.”

While you rambled, a lazy thumb plucked at each string, letting dissonance ring out in layers. At the top of the neck, callused fingers toyed with the pegs with a confidence that you only managed to fake for the sake of your job. Eventually, G sounded like G. It was warm, mellow, like the golden light that first drew him in. With a flick of his wrist, the shop resonated with a deep, soulful chord.

“Huh.” A tinge of heat rushed up to your cheeks. “Good job.”

With another nod of his head and a smirk to boot, he handed the instrument right back to you. While wood blocked your vision, you heard another thwip and the click of a pen. By the time you had set the guitar behind you, the man had finished his message. He flicked the pad of sticky notes, letting it spin and slide your way.

StrINgs ARe fIne, yOU jUst SUck aT yoUr joB

[ Strings are fine, you just suck at your job ]

Wow. Real nitpicker, wasn’t he?

Face blank, you sent the man a look. Hands in his pockets, he shrugged with that same old crook of his lips.

“Am I wrong?” he seemed to say.

To that, you just rolled your eyes. With a light smack of your fist, the cash register jumped with a chime.

“Two pounds for the record,” you retorted.

Reaching up, the man tapped at one of several pins on his vest. It was the British flag, handmade with layers of wrinkled duct tape and permanent marker that stood out against the vest's black leather. Once he secured your attention, he gestured to you with a raise of his brow.

“What?”

Another tap on the pin, followed by a gesture to his throat this time. Running down his Adam’s apple was a scar. It looked a few weeks old, a ravine stitched shut some time ago. Within a few seconds, your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Are you… talking about my lack of an accent?” It was your turn to tilt your head around, lips puckered with a hint of reluctance. “Yeah, I guess I’m not from around here. I moved to London a little less than a month ago.”

You caught a faint hum of intrigue. Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the man finally gave you the two pounds and then some.

“What about you? You lived here your whole life, or..?”

You handed him his change. Casually, he dropped that change in the tip jar. (First tip since you started this job.) Once the record was back in his hands, he nodded.

“How is it? I haven’t really gotten much time to live the… ‘London experience,’ as some people advertised it to me.”

At your air quotes, which might’ve bordered on sarcasm, the man shook with a breath of laughter. With a low, thoughtful hum, he did a so-so gesture with his hand. Bouncing a fist off his palm, he jabbed a thumb off to the side.

“Is that… a way of saying ‘it’s better to skip town?’” you tried to translate.

His brow twitched with surprise. A second later, he gave a huff of affirmation, along with yet another one of those funny nods of his. (You swore the slight weight in them meant something.) Taking back the sticky notes, he scratched out a new message for you.

tHe PEopLE AIn’t BaD, jUsT ThE WaY tHInGS RuN

[ The people ain’t bad, just the way things run ]

“Hm. That’s a shame,” you sighed, averting your eyes. “Can’t say I haven’t heard that before.” Either that, or vice versa in some places. Between the memories, you heard the scritch-scratching of another note.

STicK To tHE OUtSkIRts. mIGht NOt lOOK liKE iT, bUt THeRe’S PLeNtY Of goOD ARoUnD hERe

[ Stick to the outskirts. Might not look like it, but there’s plenty of good around here ]

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

The man hummed — neither affirmed nor denied. Setting the pen down, he made his way towards the door.

“Is that a no on the guitar, then?” you called after him. Acoustic didn’t look quite right on him, but he sure as hell had a good handle on it.

The hanging bell sang its dinky, little tune. Wicks brushing against it for an encore, the man surveyed the wall of loved and abandoned guitars. The electrics were far and few in between, but… Nonetheless, the man raised a hand. Pinching the air, he mimed the action of turning a tuning peg. Then, he pointed at his ear. You squinted and cocked your head, almost like you were looking for another clue somewhere in the air.

“Are you… talking about my tuning?”

All you got was a grin in return. “Fix your tuning. Then, we’ll talk,” your mind translated.

With a playful salute, the man strolled out of the shop. As he left your sight, a petty pout settled over your face.

Nit-picky bastard…

He was many of your firsts in that moment. First customer of the week. First tip in this city. First word from someone honest. First critic of your “music expert” facade.

Picking up the pounds he had left, you went to stash them in the cash register. Right as you smacked the drawer open, you paused at the sight of your fingers. Pink, splotchy and bright, had stained them at some point. The pounds were pink too, sticky from the smear of spray paint. A hum stirred in your throat, soft and curious.

Wonder where that came from…

With a shrug, you tossed the coins in the drawer and bumped it shut. Either way, the nitpicker was probably stained pink too.

Thank you for reading! Likes, Comments & Reblogs are much appreciated <3

(P.S. If interested in a taglist, please let me know :) Not exactly a regular updates kind of person, but I'm hopeful for multiple chapters)

[kagoutiss]

Actually I'm not done talking about your Ganondorf yet, he's so blorbo/pos, this man wants power but has to put up with so much shit that he makes everyone else put up with his shit too. 10/10 also I would like to kiss him please

FIRST OF ALL THANK YOU AGAIN AAA, SECOND OF ALL you’re so right about this that i ended up…writing many paragraphs of character analysis about him in this regard because this activated something in my brain. like about him inflicting shit on other people because of the shit that’s inflicted on him, and how much i’ve thought about that. i have so many feelings about his shitty personality, i think a fundamental part of why i love him is that he is…literally an asshole and he’s kind of impulsive and often terrible to people for no reason and he’s probably genuinely unbearable to be around even if you are close to him, but i think he is that way by virtue of the COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE REALITY that he lives in?? like.

ok so. i feel like OoT ganondorf is AS unpredictable & unreasonable & unpleasant as the circumstances that he lives with. we’re talking about someone who was not only born into the role of king of a nation that’s been generationally abused by Hyrule since the start of a centuries-long war predating OoT, but he’s also become accustomed to fighting against the Sheikah of that time period, who notably still had an immense technological advantage, and apparently inherit divine knowledge from the gods, and are capable of making evidence of their crimes against humanity just sort of…DISAPPEAR from the sight of most average people??? and also they. fucking invented time travel apparently

one of my favorite bits of really underrated OoT lore is how the Composer Brothers (who you can speak to as ghosts in the Kakariko Graveyard) were hired at some point by the royal family to study the powers of the royal bloodline, and they invented the Sun’s Song, which accelerates time, turns night to day, etc. a form of time travel, in essence. and. canonically. the Composer Brothers committed suicide when they found out ganondorf was going to try to steal their completed research. maybe to prevent him from torturing the the information out of them even if they destroyed it? which is a completely fucking batshit piece of lore that i still cannot believe exists

but imo it also gives a bit more context as to how desperate ganondorf probably was at the heel end of the civil war, or whenever this happened. he was literally having to contend with people who can fucking time travel, and to some extent, alter reality at will, superficially or otherwise. i’m not at all surprised that he has a tendency to 1) hold grudges forever and remember everything that’s ever been done to him, and 2) obsess over stealing the full Triforce, the one chance that any regular mortal has at changing their reality in a fundamental way. i think it’s probably difficult to make real personal connections when you’ve always been constantly at risk of losing anything & everything that you care about, in a way that may or may not affect whether those things had ever existed in the first place

i also feel like he PREFERS to be demonized/label himself really hyperbolic things like the King of All Evil and stuff because it’s…the opposite of what Hyrule does. Hyrule makes itself out to be this Supremely Benevolent Institution That Is Chosen By The Gods And Can Do No Wrong, while simultaneously disappearing its naysayers underground and torturing them and killing them and committing genocide against any territories that refuse to be absorbed under the Hyrulean banner. i don’t think Ganondorf cares whether his actions are necessarily good or evil, but i think that to him, the most abhorrent thing in existence is a thing that claims to be good when it isn’t.

so. he presumably spent his entire early life having to fend off the ever-looming bootheel of Hyrule’s royal family, while their army and their secret police were actively destroying the Gerudo and then gaslighting them all about it on an Existential Level. like. yeah no i think him having immense issues and…projecting the lack of control that he feels onto people around him, and being fully defined by his ambitions to take the triforce, and wanting people to despise him/see him as fundamentally evil, and him being sort of incapable of forming genuine connections with people, is…kinda par for the course with that agdkahkfjagajfhs

[writerownstory]

“May I have this dance, Princess?”

The whisper in her ear sends a shiver down her spine. She knows that voice anywhere. She refrains from whipping around to face him like she truly wants to, keeping her composure relaxed as she turns to meet his knowing smirk and the twinkle in his hazel eyes.

Luke knows she hates it when he calls her that—when anyone calls her that. But she’s still inclined to take his outstretched hand in her own, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

Julie’s entire life, but more specifically her relationship with Luke is a choreographed dance — constantly toeing the line between loving him unashamedly when no one is looking and keeping up appearances like everyone expects.

To her father’s knowledge, that’s all her interactions with Luke were. Societal mandated niceties and mutual respect and nothing more. Because if it were to go any further, Julie is positive her father and the king of the tiny country both Luke and Julie have called home for most of their lives, would absolutely lose it and likely banish Luke from coming within 100 feet of the palace or Julie herself. Luke is the least suitable partner for the country’s future queen, according to her father. He’ll never be good enough.

Which is why the best they can do, is accept a dance or two from one another—or at least as many as they can without seeming suspicious—and the rest of their time together is spent behind closed doors, in between Julie’s various commitments as princess, all in hushed voices and hurried kisses or stolen glances from across the room.

But here, even in a random supply closet off the ballroom with Luke pressing soft kisses down her neck, Julie can live in this tiny bubble of bliss for the rest of her life. Where they write songs, and talk about their dreams that don’t involve laws and crowns and pleasing other people, and the only two people who matter are each other.

Yeah, that’s totally feasible. She’ll just… never go out on dates. Or let anyone publicly court her or get married. She’ll just spend the rest of her life dodging her father’s watchful gaze and anybody in the capital city with eyes, and her security detail, and she’ll pay off Carlos when he inevitably finds out what’s going on and—

Julie doesn’t realize the door is open until she hears a harsh voice shout, “¡Aléjate de la princesa!”

Before either of them can truly react, Luke is pulled away from her and manhandled into handcuffs like a common criminal.

“No, Luke! Let him go!!” she shouts, moving to follow him. Her demand goes unheard, as her security hustles Luke out into the hallway, only to shove him against the wall opposite the closet to search him.

“Stop it!” Julie rushes out of the closet, brushing past the guards reaching for her. “He wasn’t hurting me!!”

Luke winces as the guard holding him pulls him away from the wall just enough to shove him against it once more. Despite being rather physically fit himself, he doesn’t see a point in fighting against it. It’ll only make everything worse.

“You idiots, stop it! God, you’re hurting him!” Julie’s voice becomes more and more frantic and Luke can clock the the anger turning to panic in her tone. “Let him go!”

If she doesn’t calm down, she’ll have a full blown panic attack and Luke knows it, but what can he do with his hands cuffed behind his back and his chest pressed against the wall?

“¿Qué está pasando?” Another voice joins the mix. Crap.

“Papí, call them off, please. It’s a misunderstanding,” Julie says in Spanish, though Luke knows enough by now to translate. “He wasn’t hurting me, he would never.” She’s using all her energy to keep her voice from shaking, but if Ray knew her as well as he thought he did, he would hear it.

Without another word, the guards grab Luke, turning him face to face with King Raymond Molina who currently looks the least bit understanding. “Luke,” he says, taking in the sight of Luke in handcuffs. “I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter.”

With a glance at Julie who looks close to tears, but gives the tiniest nod, he looks back at his girlfriend’s father and says with every bit of truth in his being, “I’m sorry for disregarding orders, your highness. But I love your daughter. And by the grace of whatever higher being there is, she loves me too. As long as she’ll have me, I’ll be here. I won’t be sorry for that.”

“¿Qué está pasando? Julie?” A woman with hair and eyes mirroring Julie’s steps into the hallway, wrapping an arm around her daughter immediately. “Luke? Why are you in handcuffs?”

Luke opens his mouth to respond to the queen. “I—“

“He was attacking our daughter, Rose,” Ray tells her.

This sets Julie off again, all of her anger rushing to the surface. “He was not! Mamí, he wasn’t—“

“Shhh, mija, I know,” Rose gently calms her before turning to Luke once more. “Release him.”

“But Rose—“ Ray begins to protest.

“He loves her, Ray. That’s not a crime,” Rose says, glaring daggers at her husband before her expression hardens as she faces the guards once more. “Release him now.”

The guards quickly unlock the cuffs around his wrists, and Luke isn’t ashamed to rub the skin on his wrists.

If this were any other situation, Julie would’ve kept her composure until no one was around, but since she’s already lost her cool once tonight, she doesn’t care anymore. She throws herself into Luke’s chest.

Luke’s arms immediately wrap around her on instinct. “It’s okay, Jules. I’m okay. Just breathe.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Luke,” Ray speaks up after a beat.

“No!!” Julie shouts, her grip on Luke tightening. “I’ll never see you again,” she says into his chest. “He won’t allow it.”

“Hey,” he says, cradling her cheek in his hand to catch her attention. Her beautiful brown eyes shine up at him and it truly isn’t fair but if there’s one thing Luke doesn’t do, it’s make promises he can’t keep. “You won’t lose me. I promise.”

She takes hold of his wrist that’s pressed against her cheek, turning her head to give the softest kiss Luke’s ever received in his entire life. It threatens to turn his legs into mush. “Promise.”

Luke presses a kiss to her forehead as a silent goodbye and leaves the palace that night without a fight. He immediately heads back to the apartment he shares with Reggie and Alex to begin plotting his way around this. Because if it’s the last thing he does, he’ll be with Julie Molina.

~

Very sad to make Ray the bad guy but unfortunately someone has to be. Also my Spanish is very rusty so I may have relied on a translator. Pls don’t sue me. Part 2 here!

“¡Aléjate de la princesa!” = Step away from the princess

¿Qué está pasando? = What’s happening?

[quietwings-fics]

took a little journey to the unknown

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Genfic (Amara & Lucifer) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Young Lucifer (Supernatural), Aunt Amara (Supernatural), Family Bonding, Curiosity Wordcount: 2,073 Summary:

Lucifer finds Amara fascinating. Even if Michael and God say he should stay away, he can't help dogging her heels, eager to learn more.

Michael gave Lucifer very clear instructions. “Don’t leave your nest,” and, “I’ll only be gone for a little while, so wait for me,” and, “Why don’t you take a nap, Lucifer?” Lucifer had listened and nodded and then, peered over the edge of the nest he and Michael shared to watch his brother go. He waited until Michael was out of sight before tumbling his way free. He spread his wings, which still felt too big for the rest of him — especially compared to Michael, who had told Lucifer how he had been created fully-formed where Lucifer was meant to grow. Lucifer still didn’t understand why their Father made him this way, and Michael, in turn, didn’t understand why Lucifer felt the need to ask so many questions.

He couldn’t help himself. Michael got more frustrated by Lucifer’s questions than God did and rarely had the answers he wanted, but whenever he did ask their Dad, He’d talk on and on and on until Lucifer was squirming and needed to stretch his wings before he went crazy. That was usually the point at which Dad would sigh, pass Lucifer over to Michael, and tell Michael to answer the questions that endlessly flowed out of Lucifer, starting the whole process over again.

At a certain point, Lucifer had decided it would be better for him to go looking for answers on his own. He was big enough. Michael had taught him to fly through clumsy and sometimes harrowing lessons, ones that had Lucifer losing his way in clouds of space dust and often getting carried back to their nest by his older brother when he got too tired.

He would be back before Michael even noticed he was gone. He flapped his wings, lifting himself into the air with none of the grace his brother had left with but stubbornly persisting anyway.

There were so many things to see out there. The universe around them was always in flux. Lucifer thought the only constants might be him, Michael, God, and Her.

Technically, Lucifer wasn’t supposed to talk to Her.

If their Father really wanted him to stop, than He would have done it already. Therefore, He obviously didn’t care whether Lucifer spent time with Her. Maybe He even wanted him to. That made sense to Lucifer. Michael loved him, and Dad loved him, so how could She not?

Lucifer glided, wobbly, focusing all of his effort on keep himself from turning too far one way or the other. There were sometimes waves of energy that he could ride to ease the strain of flying. His favorite were the solar flares of newborn suns, so hot that they made his feathers tingle and reminded him of Michael, sending him off with a burst so powerful it nearly always knocked him off-course but was worth it every time. There were others, even more powerful, reaching from far corners of the universe to carry him further than any other.

Lucifer couldn’t feel Her presence, exactly. She was more like an absence, the opposite of what he was, what God was. He slowed to feel the edges of that void, skimming his wingtip where She had walked through and done Her work. A shiver ran up his wing, and he tilted dangerously, falling right into the void where She had been devouring creation. It didn’t hurt, but it froze him to his core, making it harder for him to fly and escape. He beat his wings faster, but his long flight to locate Her had already tired him out.

Panicking, he cried out, “Michael!” Louder a second time, “Michael!!”

He felt the palm of a hand cup his struggling form the same way he might capture a meteor in his own. He collapsed into it, exhausted, and he was carried out of the coldest part of the Darkness. The hand cradling him was still cold, but not as overwhelming and it wouldn't let him fall.

“So it was you making all that noise,” he heard, and he straightened up to face Her. He scooted around in Her palm until he was comfortable, his wings folded against his back. She lifted a finger and poked the spot between his wings, making him squawk in surprise. “My brother’s new creation.”

“Lucifer,” he told Her. He liked his name. He wanted Her to use it, the way Michael did, or Dad, when he wasn’t calling Lucifer and Michael ‘son’ interchangeably. She tilted Her head as She carried him further away from the roiling Darkness.

“Lucifer,” She relented. “Where’s the other one? The bigger one who’s always watching you.” She poked at his wing again. It was a little too rough, and Lucifer winced, pulling away from Her. Her second touch was more gentle, and pleasant shivers rolled down his wing as She pet it.

“Michael’s busy,” Lucifer said. “God gave him some very important work to do.” He stretched his wing out a little for Her to touch even more. It felt very nice. Different than Michael or Dad. They were warm, just like Lucifer, but She was new! And Lucifer loved experiencing new things.

“Like what?” This was another part he liked about Her. Very rarely was Lucifer the one who got to answer questions. He frowned as he failed to come up with a good one.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “They’ll let me help when I’m bigger.” He purred softly as She ran a finger or two over one wing and then the other.

“You’re already half the size of your brother,” She said. Lucifer puffed up proudly, his wings fluttering.

“I am?”

“You used to be so small, I was afraid I might crush you by accident. And my brother would never have let that go,” She rolled Her eyes at that last part. Lucifer laughed.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he’d calmed down. Amara tapped his head gently, and he still swayed in her palm from the strength of it. He shook his head to clear away any dizziness.

“Making room,” She answered. “Cleaning up my brother’s toys.” Lucifer nodded.

“Michael makes me clean up my own messes,” he told her, and she hummed to let him know She was listening. Lucifer could feel the vibration in his grace. “But then,” he continued, like it was a secret, “he always cleans up when I’m done anyway.”

“If you’re anything like my brother, you don’t do a very good job of it on your own,” She said. Lucifer huffed. A soft touch on his wings soothed him again. She gazed down at him for a moment, and Her expression melted into one of affection. “You do take after him. Such a bright little angel.”

“You think so?” Lucifer head swam at even the thought. Maybe that was why his Father had made him so small, why he needed to grow. He wanted Lucifer to be like Him.

Something twinged in Lucifer’s grace. Why not Michael, too? Lucifer didn’t want to become something that Michael wasn't.

“You should fly home, little light,” She told him. “I have more work to do, and-“

“I want to see!” he interrupted, nearly tripping over his words in his haste. She paused.

“I’m not God, Lucifer,” She said, and Her indulgence of his curiosity thinned to a stern warning. “The things I do are anathema to you.” She placed one finger below his chin, fixing his eyes to Hers. “I am Hunger and Destruction and Darkness. You were not made for these things.” Lucifer swallowed. It was hard to look at Her, the same way it was to look at God. Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to hold Her gaze.

“I want to see,” he insisted. “It’s important. I want to know.” Curiosity bubbled inside him. He had always arrived to find her in the aftermath of her work, and that left him unsatisfied.

Besides, if he understood Her, then maybe She would let him help Her. Wouldn’t God be impressed by his initiative then? Michael would be so surprised that he could handle this, and he’d tell their Father to let Lucifer help with their work right away, too. He could be everyone’s favorite forever.

“Alright,” She said, “but be still and quiet. I need to focus.” Lucifer spread his wings. He flew himself up to Her shoulder to perch where their lines of sight would be the same. He held on tight. She gestured across an expanse that Lucifer hadn’t visited in a long time, and that God hadn’t mentioned in even longer. Lucifer and Michael usually only played where His work was long finished, so that they wouldn’t get in the way. Lucifer huddled down against Her shoulder as it began to get cold again. He shook, but the Darkness didn’t scare him as much when he knew She was in control of it. With wide eyes, he watched Her unmake planets and snuff out stars. He felt familiar waves of power washing over him. He folded his wings up tightly so that he wouldn’t be caught. That was where the rest of the waves he had been gliding on came from. He’d flown on the last gasps of dying stars, and he hadn’t even known it.

Lucifer was not sure if he could call what She did beautiful, not in the way he found creation beautiful. There was something about it that kept him enthralled, though. The Darkness devoured everything in its path, leaving only emptiness behind where Lucifer knew eventually God would come and make more things, and then, when He was done, the Darkness would come again. Over and over, always.

Lucifer peeked over at Her face. She wore the same delight his Father did when He was working. Lucifer felt himself smile to match it, barely restraining his wings from spreading with joy before another wave of energy threatened to bowl him over.

“Are you still there?” She asked. Lucifer wavered in place but held on.

“Yes.”

“What do you think?” Lucifer looked out at the void beyond them, once full of odds and ends. He stared very hard into it.

“Do you do this with everything Dad makes?” Lucifer asked. She nodded. “Are you going to do it to me one day?”

“Yes,” She said, not hesitating for even a moment. Lucifer pulled his wings in tightly.

“Would you be sad?” She lifted Her hand and extended a finger again, letting Lucifer decide to reach his wing up to let Her stroke it.

“Yes.” Lucifer leaned over into Her, his wing still stretched out for Her to pet. “You wouldn’t be gone. You would be with me.” He nuzzled up against Her cheek. “And eventually, you would become something new.”

“What was I before this, then?” She laughed.

“I don’t know what my brother made you out of. That’s his job, not mine.” Lucifer shut his eyes and imagined being a planet, or a black hole, or a star. Stars didn’t have older brothers, he decided, so he was happier being an angel.

His eyes snapped open. Michael.

“I have to go! Michael’s going to notice I’m missing!” He really wanted to stay until She was done, but if he did, Michael was going to watch him so closely that he wouldn’t be able to get away again. He sighed. One day, he’d convince Michael to come with him.

“Wait,” She said. She plucked Lucifer from Her shoulder into her palm again. He balanced himself, wings spread. “Wait… and now, fly!” Lucifer swooped out of Her palm, beating his wings once, twice, before he felt the reason She’d made him pause: a huge wave of energy rolling away from the Darkness. Lucifer whooped as it carried him away, easing the ache of exertion as he relaxed into its flow. He looked back once to see that She was watching him leave, and he grinned.

By the time Michael got back to their nest, Lucifer was fast asleep and curled up under his tired wings. He only stirred enough to feel Michael lay down beside him and tug him in to cuddle.

Michael shivered. He ran his hands down Lucifer’s wings. Lucifer hadn’t even noticed he was still cold. He held his breath, but all Michael did was warm him back up, wrapping him in soft feathers and holding him close.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[very-grownup]

Book 34, 2024

That's right, it's time for another edition of CHRIST WHY DID YOU TRANSLATE IT AS CHESS THERE IS SO MUCH REFERENCE TO CHESS PIECES AND WHEN YOU SAY 'CHESS PIECE' THE AVERAGE WESTERNER IS GOING TO THINK OF THE PAWN AND THE ROOK AND THE LITTLE HORSEY I mean I read Volume 5 of "The Husky and His White Cat Shizun".

God, I don't even know where I'm at in my relationship with Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou, because I'm not a committed to hate-reading an entire series kind of guy, and committing to eleven of these fuckers involves dropping some serious bucks. But here I am typing:

This volume was great because there was hardly any Mo Ran and Chu Wanning pining compared to the sad masturbation on opposite sides of the wall that was volume 4.

I loved this part of the book in a genre about dudes and their romantic feelings and boners where I hardly had to deal with their romantic feelings and boners!

Progress is being made on the Mo Ran and Chu Wanning front in this volume, for what it's worth, but most of it is beneath or after meaty chunks of mystery and plot and A GIANT RITUAL HUMAN SACRIFICE MIND CONTROL ARRAY WITH GO PIECES USED TO OPEN A PORTAL TO HELL AND A GIANT HOME DEPOT SKELETON WITH A CORPSE WHERE IT'S HEART SHOULD BE COMES OUT OF IT AND FUCKS SHIT UP AND THERE'S A CURSE WHERE A GUY'S SKIN IS CONSTANTLY BEING SLICED OPEN AND HEALED AND FILLED WITH AGONIZING PAIN AT NIGHT FOREVER WITH NO END IN SIGHT god it's rad.

AS PART OF A WEDDING.

THERE'S GIANT SPIRIT WOLVES.

Shit gets real at the wedding for Nangong Si (mysteriously disappeared/died in the original timeline) and Song Qiutong (Mo Ran's wife in the original timeline and a special race of being who can exponentially level up your cultivation if you fuck her), partially because Mo Ran is determined to sabotage it due to how Song Qiutong behaved as his wife in, again, the original timeline.

A thing that is frustrating about Mo Ran, now that he's stopped being the protagonist most in need of being thrown off a mountain, is that Mo Ran is now actively working towards being a better person and grasping at redemption for all the /murdering and raping and subjugating the entirety of the cultivation world/ and he's not willing to extend that grace to characters like Song Qiutong, a woman whose main fault seems to be jealousy and fear of being replaced by the man protecting her if she loses his sexual interest. Which seems kind of fair, considering she's a walking cultivation reservoir via dick insertion who was literally sold at a black market auction.

Mo Ran needs to work more on himself before deciding who's irredeemable, is what I'm saying. The hypocrisy with Song Qiutong sticks in my throat and reading a serialized novel in bits and pieces means I don't know if there's going to be further character or plot developments to grapple with that or if this is just a way Mo Ran is going to suck for the rest of the novel.

The wedding meddling leads to secrets being revealed, some of them decades old, and a huge chunk of the cultivation world having everything turned on its head in the ensuing chaos and the whole thing with the giant home depot skeleton. There's some weird gender stuff mixed in, bring your own feelings to the table on that, but everything with the Rufeng Sect and the wedding and Mo Ran's struggle to balance solving problems with not wanting to reveal all the forbidden knowledge he shouldn't have due to the crimes of his previous life make for meaty, juicy reading, like a really good burger.

And then there's pickles on the burger.

The pickles symbolize Mo Ran's dick.

Important clarifying information: I don't like pickles.

I've been told I should read "Legend of the Condor Heroes".

So I guess I continue my weird semi-antagonistic but thoroughly invested relationship with this series.

God the bit with the giant skeleton was cool.