#look i opened this twitter thread last night

[depressedsunshiine]

random appreciation post for Chandler's fashion sense

[pinkie-quinns]

(posting some old twitter threads here for posterity's sake)

Chrissy and Eddie breakup. She's a lesbian, apparently. Has finally come to terms with it. It's half a decade of Eddie's life in the dust. He... he doesn't exactly handle it well.

But Steve's there for him, offers Eddie a shoulder to cry on.

They’re drunk when Eddie says no one’s ever been in love with him. Not really. So Steve kisses him.

But Eddie’s straight.

He always has been.

He freaks the fuck out. Bolts. Lets the calls go to voicemail. He’d lost his partner and one of his best friends in the span of a week and it’s not fair and he’s pissed off beyond belief at Steve for doing it. 

But he’s also confused. And he also can’t stop thinking about it. 

He stews on it for weeks. Avoids mutual friends like the plague. The band lets people know he’s alive, apparently. Between losing Chrissy and Steve, he feels like there are chunks of him missing. So he gets drunk. Hooks up with blondes who kiss him all wrong. 

He’s five whiskeys deep and when he finds himself banging at Steve’s door. Steve answers with his hair mussed and his voice sleep-rough. And Eddie tells him he’s really fucking pissed at him. And Steve apologizes again. And it should be enough but it’s just fucking not. 

So Steve apologizes again and again and again, all blubbery and guilt-ridden. It's only making Eddie more angry. And he doesn’t know why. And he’s too drunk for this shit.

So he shoves Steve against the door and kisses him stupid. 

He wakes up in his own bed the next morning and he's sure he dreamt it. (He’s been dreaming it a lot lately.) But his lips are all stubble-scrapped and his mouth is cotton but he remembers how his friend's tongue tasted and he just.. Wants to cry.

Cause he’s not gay. He’s not. Other people are. Most of his friends are. And he’s fine with that! He’s been a good ally.

Well, maybe not to Chrissy. But only cause it broke his goddamn heart. Only cause he loved her so much. Only cause he'd never felt that way about anyone before or anyone since.

Except well— Fuck. Shit fucking fuck.

So he calls her. He’s kind of hoping it’ll ring through but she picks up straight away, lets out a soft little hey. And it breaks his heart all over again to hear her voice. But he takes a breath and says, “I kissed Steve.”

And she pauses. “You kissed Steve?"

And then he says, “Well, he kissed me first. But yeah. I got drunk. Jeez Chris, I got wasted. And then I— yeah, I kissed him.”

And she's quiet for a long time, just soft breathing and static. Then she says, “Thank you for telling me, Eddie.”

And oh. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?

So they talk about it. All of it. And he really listens to her this time. He couldn’t the last time, couldn’t hear over the sound of his heart fuckin’ shattering. Then he’s the one blubbering apologies cause his girl was going through all this shit totally alone and he is now way too familiar with how bad it sucks.

And then they talk about It. The big It. All the stuff her mama drilled into her brain since she was in diapers. All the names that got spat at him between hall shoves. Shit they couldn’t be 'cause then they’d be wrong, shit they couldn’t be 'cause then they’d be right. 

And when they’re done and the conversation turns into How’s the band? and Is Marcel still driving you crazy? Eddie feels ten pounds lighter, almost whole again. Like he was but better, all glued together in gold. Well, almost altogether.

He really needs to talk to Steve. 

He knocks on his door again that night. This time not at 1 AM, this time sober and remarkably dehydrated.

And Steve answers. This time put together, this time hair done and voice in its day pitch (Eddie kinda misses the sleep rasp). And he looks.. fuck. He looks perfect, doesn’t he?

Eddie’s spent all day mulling this conversation over. But standing here now he’s coming up blank. He mutters, “I- I was an asshole.”

Steve opens his mouth but Eddie just trucks on.

“–you were an asshole too, man. But me, uh, probably more?” 

And he ignores the way his stupid traitor eyes start to water, always do when the moment feels too big. “–Sorry about that. Sorry that I freaked, sorry that I was pissed at you for the shit I was just pissed at myself for. Sorry for, uh. Yelling at you. Sorry, um. Yeah. Sorry for kissing you. That definitely wasn’t cool. It’s been uh... a confusing month. Shit. I’m so sorry Steve.”

Steve just leans against the door. Normally he wore everything on his face. Couldn't win Texas Hold 'Em to save his life. Not now though. Now it feels like Steve could have a sleeve full of aces and Eddie wouldn’t know a thing.

But then he says “Eddie” so quiet it sounds like he hadn't even meant to. Like it just slipped onto his tongue.

Eddie can’t do anything but blink, “Yeah?”

“Let me um-” Steve swallows, “Let me get this straight. Where’d you land?”

God, this shit was humiliating, “Not that. Straight. Not straight.”

“Ok. Cool.”

“Yup.”

“And me–” Steve scratches at the back of his neck, “where did you land on me?”

Eddie feels like he’s gonna explode. But he can’t bolt. Not again. Even though every bone in his body wants to. So he plants his feet, coughs, “Well, I pretty much assaulted you, didn’t I?”

Steve rolls his eyes, snarks a laugh. “Sure. Yeah. I’ve been totally gone on you since, I dunno, forever. You were straight. You were basically married to your high school sweetheart. All it took was one of those things no longer being true for me to totally nosedive. But sure, you threw yourself at me.”

This was. It was a lot. 

“Steve–”

Steve waves a hand, stops him. “‘No one’s ever been in love with you. Not really.’ That’s what you said, dude. Meanwhile, shit, cards on the table here? Every relationship I’ve had in the last five years has been a pointless attempt to get over you. So yeah, it was weird to hear, Eddie.” 

Steve won’t look him in the eye. His neck is craned towards the ceiling.

Eddie whistles through his teeth, “Maybe, uh… maybe give me a bit more time?”

“Oh.” Steve finally glances up. His poker face is all gone. He looks like a kicked puppy. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“I’ll probably just need a week or two? I mean, fuck man, that’s a whole other, like Phylum of pornography I’ve been missing out on for the last 25 years. I gotta get myself acquainted before I can, you know–” He reaches out, rubs at Steve’s bicep with a wink, “Get myself Acquainted.”

Steve’s whole body is shaking. Eddie can feel the relief flitting out of him. “Jesus Christ, Munson.”

“Then I’ll take you out, Harrington! Show you the town.”

“Dude, will your dick even work at that point?”

“On the first date?” Eddie gasps, “Lord Harrington, how improper!”

Steve just shrugs, “Rules are different for guys.”

“What? Wait seven years and then hope you land a sexuality crisis?” Then Eddie’s leaning in, closing the space between them. Trying to ignore the pounding in his chest, thinks maybe he's never been so terrified. 

Steve smiles into the kiss. “Yeah, Munson. It's something like that.” 

[marlenesluv]

i was wondering if you could do an america's sweetheart victorias secret angel reader whos 19 x charles. in this universe victoria secret still has their show and it's like peak vs again. its very miss americana and the heartbreak prince. and there's some light cheating because shes still with her boyfriend Arber Xhekaj (if you don't know gf omg hes so fine and his fights are amazing) and she meets Charles at the after party of the show. and like erin heatherton fc plz from like the 2010s

Angel. (CL)

tbh, i love watching the old vs shows, ugh. i rly love this idea. erin heatherton is stunninggggg. i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: charles leclerc x vs model reader

fc: erin heatherton

warnings: light cheating, cussing, fans slut shame (for the plot, also don’t do this or i’ll throw chicken legs at you)

note: cheating is not slay, don’t do it. (i’ll only condone tho if you cheat to be with an f1 driver, jk jk) also, the first post is the night after the after party. but it twists so stick with me.

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

twitter:

Gossip Column @gossipoftoday • 4hr

Big news for our Formula 1 watchers and Victoria Secret enjoyers! Y/N Y/L/N, 19, has been a model for Victoria’s Secret for two years, one of our favorite Angels. She has been dating Arber Xhekaj, Canadian Hockey Player, these past eight months.

The couple has been fairly public, but these past few weeks, we have noticed a decrease in posts by the couple. This might have something to do with last nights show.

Last night, Y/N opened for the show, looking absolutely stunning on the runway. The after party is what we want to discuss though…

Charles Leclerc was seen at the show and the after party. Heavy, and we mean heavy, dancing was shared between Charles and Y/N. Rumors have it, Arber might be interested in another girl, but the party hasn’t broke off their relationship. So imagine our shock when we find this out!

Now, Charles and Y/N would make a hot couple, but are we behind cheating? I’m not too sure about this.

↳ Bellaaa @charfanpage33 • 4hr

Y/N is actually stunning, but I hope her and Arber broke it off because cheating is not hot.

↳ Jacobs Cavern @formula1overu • 3hr

Y/N is definitely hot, but is she gonna cheat on Charles too?? Like, come on. Once a cheater, always a cheater

_______________________________________________

liked by: charles_leclerc, victoriassecret, and 983,025 others

y/n.user: such an amazing show last night, i hope you enjoyed, loves!!

view comments…

vsmodelpicsss: you were stunning, per usual👏👏

user9: i need the water she’s drinking

f1wags: hmmmmm

↳ charfp: HM?????

ferraribabyyy229: is that charles….?? he liked too..soooo

↳ smoothoperatorpageeee: i’m questioning it

y/n.fp: abt to make a thread cuz WTF IS GOING ONN

xanderfppp: she’s literally hoeing around?

↳ y/n.editzz: nah babe. we don’t even know the full story, or if it’s charles🖕

papayafans: y/n would be an amazing wag. i need her in the paddock

yourbsf: YOU LOOKED SO FUCKING AMAZING💓💥🥵

↳ y/n.user: i’m soooo glad you could make it! TY ILY💓

user8: it looks like char’s hair…..

_______________________________________________

liked by: lanacondor and 82,024 others

arberxhekaj_: 🔛🔝

view comments…

user02: nah cuz why wasn’t he at the last vs show..

↳ user3: maybe they broke up?

↳ nhlfan8: just bc he didn’t go to show, doesn’t mean they broke up-

lanacondor: ✨✨

↳ user4: girl. now what is THIS?!?!

y/n.fp: does he have another gf?? did i miss a BOOK??

f1user: all of us are equally confused rt? they unfollowed each other too…

↳ arberxy/n: WHAT

user0: oh hunny….this is so confusing. are y’all pranking us?

f1editpage: y/n is not the cheating type imo. maybe arber cheated….

↳ user5: or they both did

arberfanpage: maybe they’re still together and we’re all wrong?

↳ y/nsfan11: nah, i don’t think so

_______________________________________________

twitter:

Jaime💋 @y/nswifeasf • 3hr

Thread on why I think Y/N Y/L/N and Arber Xhekaj have broken up:

↳ Jaime 💋 @y/nswifeasf • 3hr

Reason #1) Y/N and Arber haven’t posted each other in literally two months. Maybe they want privacy, sure. But I think we can all agree that that is not the reason.

↳ Jaime 💋 @y/nswifeasf • 3hr

Arber hasn’t been attending the Victoria’s Secret shows for the past month-ish. Same with Y/N not attending Arber’s hockey games/practices.

↳ Jaime 💋 @y/nswifeasf • 3hr

They have also both unfollowed each other on all social platforms: Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok. Since then, Arber has followed Lana Condor, and Y/N has followed Charles Leclerc, along with many other Formula 1 drivers, all of them follow her back.

↳ Jaime 💋 @y/nswifeasf • 3hr

I want to end this thread with my personal thoughts on this couple. Personally, I love Y/N, and I don’t believe she would cheat. Arber, I’m not so sure either… I think we should all just wait till they release something about the matter.

*comments have been disabled on this tweet*

_______________________________________________

liked by: charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,231,035 others

y/n.user: this is definitely not how arber and i wanted to do this, but i think it’s what has to be done. yes, arber and i have decided to end things. arber can tell his side, i wont speak for him. but let’s just say that i found myself in a hard spot. charles and i are dating, we have been for the past four weeks. arber and i broke up two months ago, so i did not cheat. as for lana and arber, once again, not my story to tell. please respect mine, charles, and arbers privacy. i’m sorry you had a shit explanation. i appreciate you all for being supportive. ily.

view comments…

charles_leclerc: ❤️❤️

*liked by creator*

papayafanpage: as long as she and charles are happy, i’m happy. fr

user3: you don’t need to apologize! your private life is more important than social media. your guys’ privacy comes first

francisca.cgomes: i love and miss you🩷pierre and i would love to get dinner with you two!

↳ y/n.user: i love and miss you too🩷and yeah, we would love that too! i’ll text you

↳ francisca.cgomes: okay🩷

f1wags: y/n and kika🥲🥹

↳ y/neditsss: the wags have to stick together fr

arberoveru: as long as arber and y/n ended things well, who tf cares abt who they date? i j want them happy

lailahasanovic: i’m sorry you had to post like this :( let’s get together soon, pretty girl!

↳ y/n.user: ty laila<3 and yes i’ll text you!

_______________________________________________

twitter:

Arber Xhekaj @arberxhekaj_ • 2hr

I don’t have much to add to what Y/N posted earlier today. We did break up two months ago, she didn’t cheat. I did, though. Details are not needed, I prefer to keep it at that. She didn’t deserve it, and I regret it deeply. I will always love her as a friend, and it makes me happy that her and Charles are so happy. Please don’t let my drunken mistake alter your feelings on her. I’m so sorry.

*comments have been disabled on this tweet*

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 1,023,783 others

charles_leclerc: how did i get so lucky?❤️

view comments…

user4: god. they make me feel so lonely and they j started dating 🥲

y/n.user: char🥹

↳ charles_leclerc: chérie?

↳ lestappenfanpage3: IM SOBBING 😭 SO CUTE

danielricciardo: someone needs to post me like this😪

↳ maxverstappen1: posting you rn

↳ danielricciardo: thanks max😁🫶

user7: K. IM NOT LONELY AT ALL. K.😫

yourbsf: WOOOO MY PARENTS POSTEDDDD👏

↳ y/n.user: OMFG💀

↳ yourbsf: you’d be a hot mom

↳ y/n.user: thx🤭 you’d be a hot aunt

↳ yourbsf: i knowwww🥶

f1fp: y/n’s bsf def knew from the start

↳ leclercbrosfp: arthur prolly did too LMAO

↳ f1fp: TRUE

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[strawberryspence]

Because I am obsessed with the famous trope here’s another one that kept me up all night.

Steve and Eddie dated right after Vecna in ‘86 and it’s perfect. They date each other and it’s like two puzzles clicking together. But they’re young, foolish and they both have mountains of trauma. And sometimes, the passion and love, just isn’t enough to keep a relationship going.

They have a messy break up that has Eddie packing all his stuff up in ‘88. Eddie goes to LA or New York, either way that’s where he gets discovered. He then goes on to write some very angsty and angry rock/metal music about the break-up that gets him up on the map.

Steve hates it. He hates it with every fibre of his soul because it’s one thing when you and you ex still have the same friends and have to be civil with each other, but it’s a whole other thing when you open the radio and this man you dated, this man you loved and cared for and failed is just out here singing it for the whole world to hear.

And yeah listen, it’s petty and dumb. But Steve writes his own fucking songs, it’s not the direct response to Eddie’s song but it’s close. By that time it’s already ‘90 and Eddie’s made a whole name and career out of their relationship. Steve writes the songs, he sings, and he sends the damn demo to almost fifty different companies. And he gets picked up by one company.

Steve takes the pop star route, and with his looks and his somehow amazing vocals, by ‘94 Steve’s on the charts with Whitney and Mariah. The whole Party has solemnly promised to not get involved with their petty songwriting fighting anymore. They also haven’t spoken in person in almost six years, and the only way they communicate now is through the freaking songs.

There’s not a lot of overlap with the rock and pop community, and no one notices it until ‘05. It’s one fan that makes this one blog post talking about this weird freaky coincidence in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson’s songs. It becomes a whole thing, like someone from Hawkins pulls out the yearbooks and finds out that they could’ve known each other. Their faces are splashed together into every magazine and celebrity entertainment shows.

They don’t say anything about it. No one comments about it for a few years and it infuriates the public even more. The next time Steve comes out with a song, Eddie comes out with another song a few months after and it’s once again a literal conversation about their relationship.

The whole thing continues until ‘11 and by then there’s blog dedicated for all the clues. It’s now a long running thread, and it gets updated when there’s another clue to this massive confusing puzzle. There’s a whole subsection with names of every Party member and how they connect the two artists together. There’s freaking flow charts and pictures and family trees.

It only ends when Eddie finally posts two pictures on Twitter. The first one is taken backstage. All you can see is Steve’s back, but you will know it’s him because of his hair. He’s standing at the side of the stage, and on the stage is Eddie Munson singing. The second one is a picture of Eddie sitting in a couch as Steve looms over him, hands crossed on his chest. Eddie’s signing his own album with a smirk, while Steve glares at him. If you zoom, you can see the sign on the album saying, “To Steve. This album is for you.”

The caption says: “Me and my biggest fan. Circa 2004.”

Steve replies to the original post saying: “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eddie deletes the post and reposts it with: “Me and my wonderful, gorgeous, talented husband. I can’t believe I am married to THE Steve Harrington.”

It’s the first time the term “break the internet” is ever used.

Turns out, they were just writing the songs to spite each other and to add fuel to the fandom fire. (In an interview, Eddie says, “It’s our foreplay.” and Steve doesn’t talk to him for a solid 30 minutes for running his mouth. It only lasts for 30 minutes because Eddie made it up to him by using his mouth for something else.)

[thebestbooksaround]

This is a Buddie fic rec list where "one of them isn't a firefighter" That makes me warm and happy every time I read them <3

Part 1 || Part 2

Exploding Coffee Machines by inkinmyheartandonthepage (@inkinmyheartandonthepage) | 9k | General

Buck couldn’t be blamed for falling in love with his neighbour. He was powerless against the Diaz boys and wanted nothing more than to be swept up in their everything. Buck thought that Eddie felt the same, that their feelings of more than just being platonic best friends was mutual. Buck had been hopeful that Eddie inviting him to his boss’s house to meet his friends and co-workers meant that they were taking a step in the right direction.

A step that now Buck was going to be late for OR Buck gets burned at work and worries that he's blown his shot with Eddie when he runs late to meet his friends.

What is Love For $2000? by fayevian 17k | Mature

On the screen, the camera pans down as they introduce the contestants. Mary, on her 3rd day winning streak, is a dowdy teacher type. Center stage is occupied by a graying man with loopy handwriting named Auggie. And all the way to the right is… Evan. Damn. --- One night when Eddie can't sleep, he discovers the hottest Jeopardy contestant of all time (objectively). With the "help" of his team and his fairly good working knowledge of Twitter, they devise a plan to get Evan (from Jeopardy) to slide into Eddie's DMs. It works surprisingly well.

i like you so much (it's kinda gross) by brewrosemilk, stardustbuddie (@gayhoediaz) (@wh0re-behavi0r) | 10k | Explicit

Buck Buckley (@/firefighterbuck): @/eddiediaz I’ll never be able to tug your hair now, huh?

Eddie Diaz (@/eddiediaz): @/firefighterbuck It’s against the rules, anyway. You don’t look like a fighter, though. What situation would we be in that would make you want to tug my hair?

(Or: Eddie is an MMA fighter and Buck thirsts on twitter.)

you make the world taste better by farfromthstars (@buckactuallys) | 11k | Teen

They follow the room numbers down the hallway until the last door on the right. It’s slightly ajar, and when Eddie knocks politely, it opens further.

“Hey,” a cheerful, male voice says. “You guys are early!”

When Eddie spots the source of the voice, he nearly swallows his tongue.

The man is tall, with broad shoulders and huge arms, a sunny smile on his face that looks so genuine Eddie can’t help but smile back. There’s a splash of pink over his one eye, his hair is just the slightest bit curly, and his eyes are startlingly blue. He’s also about 80% legs, and leaning on a cane to walk.

Belatedly, Eddie remembers that he should say something too, not just stare at this guy approaching them.

“Uh,” he starts eloquently. “Sorry. This one was getting impatient at home ~ Newly arrived to LA, Eddie decides to take his son to parent/child cooking classes. The instructor is so much more than he expected

stupid people. by brewrosemilk (@gayhoediaz) | 160k | Explicit

New in Los Angeles, and having recently admitted to himself that he's gay, Eddie figures that hiring a sex worker might be a good way to keep his private life cut off from his job and his son. A way to keep things from becoming too complicated.

It works. For a while.

your dreary mondays by hammersmiths (@henswilsons) | 33k | Teen

“Wait, you need a sitter?” Chimney says. Eddie nods. “Maddie’s brother got back in town a few nights ago, he’s looking for work.”

Eddie frowns. He doesn’t know much about this mysterious brother of Maddie’s – doesn’t even really know much about Maddie, either, aside from being Chimney’s girlfriend – but he’s pretty sure every time he’s been brought up in conversation it’s not been particularly inspiring. “Is this the brother who flunked out of college because he spent all his tuition on a motorcycle?”

Chimney colours a little. “Um. No?”

or, Buck babysits Christopher and Eddie is—fine about it, actually.

one single thread of gold (tied me to you) by heartbeatdiaz (@heartbeatdiaz) | 4k | Teen

Eddie doesn't know much about Chris' science teacher, except that he's his son favorite and apparently knows everything there's to know. ( Those were Christopher's words. )

So when he enters the classroom, expecting an old man dressed nicely but a little old-fashioned as the science teacher, his whole life crashes to a halt.

"Evan?" The man who's leaning against the desk, looking at some papers, suddenly startles and looks up at Eddie with wide blue eyes.

"Holy shit," It's what the man says after spending at least a minute opening and closing his mouth. or; Eddie met Evan when he was a bartender in Peru and Eddie was on vacation with his cousins. They had a one night stand and Eddie woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a disappointed heart. Just for the same guy to end up being Chris' teacher years after.

always glad you came by foxwatson (@eddiediazes) | 5k | Teen

Buck is the incredibly kind but incredibly straight bartender at Eddie's local gay bar. Eddie is trying very, very hard not to be pathetically in love with him, and is failing miserably.

“Hey, you’re back,” Buck had said, greeting him with that sun-bright grin, and Eddie had yet again been reminded why he’d started questioning his sexuality.

“Well, I get one night off a week. And tonight I could really use the drink.”

Buck’s brow had furrowed, and he got Eddie his favorite beer without even asking again what it was. “You need to talk about it? Assuming I read you right and you’re the kind of guy who talks to a bartender instead of a therapist.”

Eddie had winced theatrically. “Ouch. That obvious, huh?”

“Hey, man, you’re the one that told me you started coming here on your coworker’s advice. Feels like something you’d get from a therapist, if you had one.”

see the stars with my morning eyes by trippedandfell (@trippedandfell) | 3k | Teen

“So,” Buck announces, sitting down between Hen and Chimney at the concessions stand. “I think Eddie’s trying to get me to sleep with him and his fiancée.”

or: Eddie calls Lucy his partner. Buck extrapolates.

walking on sunshine by fallingthorns (@fallingthorns) | 5k | Teen

“Shut up,” Buck grumbles at the dog. “It’s not a crush.”

Buck walks out of the room, out the backdoor, and into the yard, trying to ignore his large and judgmental dog following behind him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Buck tells him as he gets the hose out to start watering his plants. “Keep it to yourself.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Buck startles and drops the hose, doing a quick 180-degree turn and coming face-to-face with Eddie. He’s clearly standing on something, elbows folded over the top of the fence and chin resting on them as he looks at Buck. His expression looks almost fond and it kind of makes Buck want to both preen and die of embarrassment. -- Or, the one where Buck owns a doggy daycare, has a large dog with an attitude, and is hopelessly in love with his new neighbor.

Under Any Roof by moncuries (@moncuries) | 10k | Teen

Eddie Diaz does not need a noisy neighbor on top of all the shit he's trying to work out.

But he does make really good mac and cheese. -- “You know,” And Buck is meeting his eyes now. They’re uncannily blue. Like Kool-Aid or popsicles. “If you want, I could show you what I get up to up there?”

What? WHAT? Eddie feels heat spread from the tips of his ears to his toes. No way had he just gotten propositioned before sunrise in the decrepit hallway of their apartment building. “Um. No.” He backs up until his calves brush the door to 101. “Thank you, really. But no.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows by stayeven (@demieddie) | 7k | Mature

When Eddie resigns himself to buying sex toys in person—despite the popularity of online ordering now—he expects to be embarrassed and overwhelmed. What he doesn't expect is to leave with a crush on the employee with captivating blue eyes.

and we can stay all day by trippedandfell (@trippedandfell) | 3k | Teen

“So let me get this straight,” Hen says, once she’s stopped laughing at him. “Your nerd crush-

“-Evan Buckley,” Eddie miserably interjects.

“Your nerd crush,” Hen repeats, waggling her eyebrows. At the kitchen table beside her, Chimney is grinning like Christmas just came early. “Read your drunk tweet and then sent you animal facts via DM?”

or: Buck's a zoologist. Eddie's pretty sure he's in love.

[leikeliscomet]

Flop and Bubble - I’m Not Stanning RTD2’s Racial Commentary

On Dot and Bubble, experiencing fandom backlash and what this means for the Black Brit (or lack thereof) in the writer’s room.

Part 1 - The Episode

If you’ve already seen my posts, I don’t like this episode. At all. I watched it on Friday night with everyone else not knowing what to expect and live-tweeted away. It wasn’t worth the late night stream. I rewatched it on Saturday and still felt disappointed. Apart from 50 minutes of cringe millennial/Gen Z parody, mid social media commentary, boring aliens and a whole intense, action-filled scene dedicated to Lindy trying to walk in a straight line, Dot and Bubble tried to give us a racism commentary too, which in all honestly felt like someone was taking the piss. Opening up Twitter and Tumblr to see this episode being called the best of the season and ‘the greatest’ episode of nuwho felt like a 73 Yards of my own. Most posts about how ‘groundbreaking’ and ‘important’ this story is make my eyes roll into the back of my head I’ll be honest with you. I don’t wanna copy and paste everything I’ve already said in my original thread (here’s the Tumblr version), but I’ll recap my main issues with it.

The predominantly white casting fails as a racism commentary in a show that’s already predominantly white. White fans who’ve grown up in white areas watching a predominantly white show have no reason to question why that show would be white too. It’s their default. Including that of the writer's room, as there were no Black writers for series 14. White fans who didn’t notice the white casting have no reason to. Why would they when the show has catered to them for most of its run? There is no fundamental difference between Dot and Bubble’s predominantly white cast and the all-white main cast of Series 6 or the episodes of RTD1 where Martha or Mickey were the only Black characters of the episode. But only one of these results in pearl-clutching. The self-flagellation from white fans late to notice felt very strange. Apart from the guilt of not noticing something they had no incentive to notice, nothing productive comes from this guilt. Being upset about having white privilege is an acknowledgement I guess, but what material actions are coming from this? RTD and co. wanted a message about predominantly white representation then didn’t have any Black writers in the room to create that message. There’s no point in gasping at how white the table is and then not offering Black people a place to sit. Dot and Bubble wasn’t a new story either, as it was originally planned for the Moffat era instead. What would the ending look like for the 11th Doctor? No bowties allowed? To say this episode sprinkled in racism last minute doesn’t seem that far-fetched considering it wasn’t originally a part of the script in the first place. How can I credit an ‘intentional’ build-up of microaggressions to the big racism reveal in the last 10 minutes when they were never originally there to begin with? How can this be a good commentary on the Black experience when Black writers were not only missing but the Black main character himself?

RTD Who’s campness is already something I disliked from RTD1, but for the big white supremacy episode out of all to choose from was just in poor taste to me. I already hated the Love and Monsters style episodes of the OG RTD run, but for an episode that represents systemic racism of all things felt like a slap in the face. Not to say racism can’t exist in comedy because it can. Many Black writers including in the shows I recommend later in the thread do this, but they use humour as the Black characters’ coping mechanism for racism. The actions of the racist characters aren’t minimised because of this. Dot and Bubble doesn’t have the range for this that Doctor Who fans think it does. Lindy’s incompetence is a way for Fifteen, Ruby and the audience to look down on her in the sense she’s clapped basically and her racism comes from the fact she’s unintelligent. But in the real world, white supremacy is a lot smarter. White supremacist rhetoric is hidden and cloaked intentionally so it can’t be noticed and this is used as a way of recruiting white people to join in and maintain it. White supremacy is a system constructed for the purpose of oppressing Black people and other people of colour. It’s a bit more than a few silly billies trust me. Even if we do entertain the idea of ‘accidental racism’ the only reason it happens is because of this white supremacist conditioning which tells white people it’s okay. It’s not your fault for being born in this system but it’s absolutely your fault for continuing to maintain it when you have the choice not to. The only sign of intellect Lindy has comes from when she betrays Ricky and gets him killed. This was what Lindy could’ve been. A white woman who weaponises her incompetence and innocence to her own advantage because she knows how it will benefit her in a white supremacist state. An episode with a darker tone exploring racism in a technological dystopia. This is what fans think the episode did but frankly, it didn’t, but they wanted it to because they idolise RTD to the point of creating his writing intentions for him. Lindy didn’t weaponise being incompetent she is incompetent. Her incompetence is attached to her social media obsession and youth and without these things she lacks even more intelligence than she already does. The episode promotes the idea that racism is the product of low intelligence and overreliance on technology. She is a walking talking caricature for the fans to project onto than a real person capable of actual harm. Apart from the ableist connotations that the lower the intelligence the lesser the person morally, it’s an overly basic and mediocre representation of racism. I won’t speak for the Black people who do relate to the representation of Lindy as a racist, but for me personally, the Lindys of my life were never silly in their racism. They knew what they were doing. They knew no matter how harmless their actions were (to them not me that is), they would get away with it. And they did. I didn’t have time to laugh about how silly the racists I’d met were. I was too busy trying to survive. It’s hard to giggle about being smarter than a racist when they hold the power to dehumanise you completely. What use is an intellectual high horse then?

Speaking of projecting onto characters, I don’t care about Ricky September. His main role was to get Lindy to walk in a straight line and find the escape. He provided as much interest to the episode as water adds flavour to white bread. Ricky is raised in the exact same Finetime conditioning as Lindy but he’s an antiracist icon because he likes walking and books I guess. White fans will be disappointed to know that racists can read and exist outside too. He becomes the ideal white man, a white saviour we’re supposed to distance from the rest of Finetime. The episode again reaffirms that racism is about moral character and not a system. The Ricky Midtembers of my life still benefit from racism even if they are just are just ‘nice’ white guys. Ironically, Ncuti Gatwa’s interview about white mediocrity becomes relevant again. Ricky is put on a pedestal for just existing, expecting applause from the audience. My hands are staying still.

What makes the episode’s politic even more flimsy is how it’s missing from the rest of the season. In The Devil’s Chord, Fifteen opened the TARDIS doors in 1963 with an afro and big smile on his face and I was confused. The arrival of the Windrush generation, the Bristol Bus Boycott and the Notting Hill race riots had all taken place by the time Fifteen and Ruby landed. Would this play any key role in this historical British episode featuring a Black man as the Doctor for the first time? Nah! Only a week after D&B he and Ruby were kicking it with British aristocrats in Rogue, a group of people well-known for respecting Black people for sure! The show’s avoidance of addressing Black British experiences almost feels intentional at this point. Black British history is rarely if not never taught in the British education system, let alone the rest of the world. From previous discourses on Rosa, Thin Ice and Human Nature, ignorance about our history is so prominent in the Doctor Who fandom. White British fans can’t accept the idea of racism being British, not exclusively American, on the same level as the US or even worse. And the show passes up the opportunity yet again to debunk this. So far the show’s closest attempts were Human Nature/Family of Blood and Thin Ice, but even then these episodes had limits. We had Mary Seacole in War in the Sontarans but as the title suggests, the Sontarans were the focus of the episode, not her. Whilst some white fans think the futuristic focus is a smart move, it just highlights the lack of depth a Black perspective can provide. When was the racism of Britain’s past actually addressed? How on earth can you claim learning about Britain’s racist past is limited when you don’t even know about it? How can you address race in the future when you can’t even address it today? Racism can only exist in a futuristic world, far away from Earth in a fictional blue-blooded race of the white bourgeoisie because we can’t have this sci-fi-attempting-fantasy show getting too real. Dot and Bubble’s racism needs to exist in its own isolated white echo chamber so that the racism of the Doctor Who fandom’s one can stay intact.

Dot and Bubble is a failure because it reinforces the bias white fans already have. That as long as they aren’t a specific flavour of white person (rich, Christian, cisgender, heterosexual, allosexual, able-bodied, neurotypical and perisex) they can’t be capable of anti Black racism. The episode comforts them in knowing what they already want to be true and need to be true. They don’t have to question or self-reflect their own antiblackness because the episode doesn’t give them any reason to. Why should they? They’re a Ricky not a Lindy, right? The white fans ‘saddened’ by Lindy’s low assumptions about Black men will continue in their hatred of Ryan Sinclair, Danny Pink and Mickey Smith. The white fans disgusted by Lindy’s disgust will keep going on about how ‘off’ they feel about Martha Jones but ‘don’t know why’. The white fans that ‘hate’ Lindy’s hatred of Ruby and Fifteen’s close proximity will keep gagging at the thought of the Doctor having any romantic connection to Martha Jones because she ‘deserved better than that’. The white fans ‘heartbroken’ for the ‘first’ Black doctor will keep erasing the Fugitive Doctor. The white fans that stan the ‘anti-racist’ slugs today will hate the Black people that fight against racism tomorrow. The white fans praising this episode for being ‘groundbreaking’ and ‘inspirational’ and ‘important’ will be racist to Black fans that dare to say that maybe it was a bit shit. And that is exactly what happened.

The fandom’s praise of Fifteen’s compassion, kindness and humanity (of a Time Lord that is)  hinges on him being a ‘good’ Black man for the racists that hate him to the core. If he hadn’t begged and screamed to save Lindy, that praise would’ve been revoked instantly. Fans uncomfortable at his anger towards the Chuldur and the killing of the Goblin King confirm this. Despite the long morally grey history of the Doctor, Fifteen’s darkness is uniquely ‘out of character’ because thanks to bigeneration this isn’t supposed to happen anymore (allegedly). Deep down, this is what the white audience wants. There can never be an alternative to Dot and Bubble’s ending. It’s easier to imagine racism as an inevitable part of the natural order we must experience for the sake of storytelling, the only form of conflict that Black characters and people can ever have than that we could ever, just maybe, say ‘no’ to the white standards put before us. We must beg. We must be nice. We must be compassionate. Even when history and current events have shown us time and time again white supremacy can’t be killed with kindness. Why take the boot off your neck when you can find out how strong and brave you are for handling it instead? Either that or just pretend it doesn’t exist. White incarnations of the Doctor on the other hand have and will continue to be the radical icons of the show because unlike Fifteen, white characters will always be given more agency to explore their actions and behaviours. Punch racists! Free the Ood! Stan the anti-racist slugs and eat the rich! Slay!

When Black people stop chasing after the boat, we don’t get this same radical praise. We pay a price. And the response to Dot and Bubble’s criticism would ironically prove this.

Part 2 ->

[camille-lachenille]

It was a rainy day, when Huan walked out of the Halls of Mandos, soft mud sticking to his paws as he walked toward the woods in the distance. The smells and noises were familiar despite all the time that had passed, and Huan happily sniffed at trees and stones to try catch an interesting trail. The pattering of rain on the dense canopy over him almost covered the twittering of birds but Huan could still catch glimpses of their gossip, and he wagged his tail. It wasn’t much but he had a trail to follow now.

Valinor was unchanged, yet vastly different from what Huan remembered. As he ran across woods and plains, he saw new towns and lush fields where there was only wilderness before. He mourned this loss, but he had a goal to reach so he did not pause except for the briefest rest. Always, he followed the chattering of birds, the whispers of the wind and the thread calling to him.

Huan ran and ran, revelling in the feeling if earth under his paws and wind messing with his fur. He had missed being alive, this abundance of sounds and smells; rustling leaves, foxes calls, thunderstorms and bird songs, deer fleeing in the woods, freshly cooked food, dewy grass in the morning and so much more.

At least, Huan picked up the trail he had been searching for as he followed the birds, this unmistakeable scent that meant friend tough diluted in seawater, kelp and bird, with a hint of sadness. The trail led him to a lone tower at the edge of the world, wrapped in ribbons of mist. Huan ran up to the door and shook his fur from rain and dust before barking happily, his tail wagging faster than ever.

It took some time but, at last, the door opened on a small figure clad in white. Huan immediately flopped down, belly up and tongue lolling out, and looked up at the woman. She stood very still in the doorframe, a hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes very wide, like a rabbit caught. After a long moment she moved, as if in a daze, and presented her open hand to Huan. He sniffled it, revelling in the scent of friend, before licking the woman’s palm. She laughed at that, a small startled giggle, but her stance was now much more relaxed as she knelt beside him.

“So you really are the dog from the tale of Grandmother Lúthien,” she said with wonder in her voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Huan. I am Elwing.”

Huan let out a soft boof and licked Elwing’s hand once more. This time, her laughter was just a little louder, and she sank her hands in his fur to rub his belly. He could not speak in this new life, not that he had much to say that could not be expressed with other means, but in this moment Huan wished he was able to tell Elwing he was her friend forever.

Elwing stood up after a while and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Do come in, you must be famished after your journey,” she invited with a small smile. “Truth be told, I expected you to look much more fearsome, not that I complain about your friendliness. But tales tend to make everyone look grander and more awe inspiring than real…” her voice trailed off and there was a feeling of sadness surrounding Elwing. Huan carefully nudged her shoulder with his nose and, when Elwing turned to look at him, licked her face playfully. Her shriek was one he knew well, part surprise, part laughter. Lúthien had reacted the exact same way he had done this trick to her. Tyelkormo would only laugh and muss the fur on his nose, but that was even longer ago.

Elwing’s tower was a nice place to live in. Isolated enough that it was surrounded by wilderness and the inside large enough to accommodate Huan’s size without too many broken vases and chairs. At night he slept on the hearth rug and he would often be joined by Elwing when sleep eluded her. She would tell him tales of her life, in Beleriand and here in Valinor, and what memories she had of her father and brothers, tough only rarely for it made her cry.

“I am glad to have you here with me, my friend,” Elwing whispered in his neck one night. Huan nuzzled her hair in answer as she fell asleep curled against him. I will always be at your side, friend.

[baby-alien11]

Online haters (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

This idea came to me while I was at the gym suddenly thinking on the words that my classmates on elementary and intermedia school used to say to me (I was a victim of bullying and the school didn't do a thing, fortunately I switched schools in my last year of intermedia school), and I used that awful experience as inspiration

The next chapter will be posted on my birthday (is in may, I'm a taurus)

taglist: @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @aonungsgirlfriend @ethanlandryluver

something feels off about this relationship

maybe this is for publicity

yeah, besides she isn't THAT pretty

she doesn't seem as in it as Jack does

she looks a little fake, don't get me wrong, she seems nice but...

maybe she is with him for fame

she's a nepo baby, you know how they are

That were some of the replies you saw on a tweet that appeared in your timeline during the night when you openned Twitter due to not be able to sleep, a part of you wanted to report the tweet for spam but the other wanted to keep reading the rest of the replies

That was the part that won

Reply after reply was more hurtful than the other, seeing people doubting your relationship with Jack and posting "proofs" just increased your sadness

The caption that made you burst into tears was a whole thread called "proofs that Y/N and Jack's relationship is fake"

Since you entered the world of social media at the age of thirteen, you knew that the hate comments were a daily thing, you saw it when you spend summers in the Riverdale set on how most of the cast commented having them or the way Melissa recieved them after Scream 5, but you didn't know how it felt

Until now...

Deciding that you've seen enough of that, you turn your phone off to get to sleep but you still couldn't because anytime you closed your eyes, the only thing you saw was all that tweets again and again

During the whole night you only played with baby dragon Jake while looking at your celling, noticing it was a new day when the door of your room was openned by your father

"Good morning, tornado", Skeet greeted entering the room to open the curtains, "You woke up early?"

"I couldn't sleep", you sighed sitting in your bed

"What? Why?", Skeet answered sitting in your bed, "What happened?"

Without saying a word, you took your phone to open Twitter and show him the tweets that you saved, for the next minutes you saw how your father's face scrunched in anger for the words on the screen

"How did you find these?", Skeet interrogate you returning the phone to you

"Last night after videocalling Jack, I couldn't sleep and I went into Instagram and then Twitter, and after scrolling for a while, they appeared in my timeline"

"You know, the people who write this kind of stuff, are jealous and they don't know what to do with their lives, so they just spread hate everywhere, and we don't listen to them or take them seriously, understood?"

"Yes dad, but I sill feel awful, why the sudden hate? All my life I've been your little shadow and I haven't done anything controversial or bad"

"I know, but people like to hate on people who are gainning relevance, and you kid, are on the way to become one of the best VFX make up artist in the industry"

"You think?"

"In the five classes that you already had, I can see awards in your future"

Feeling emotional, you hug your dad at what he responded in the same way tightening the hug

"Hey, today is my flight to go to the convention, but I don't want to leave you alone after this"

"My passport expired last week, mom lives in London, and Jakob and Naiia are travelling"

"Kid, let me find a solution, just get up from bed and go get some breakfast, listen to your old man"

Laughing for his last comment, you were about to get out of your bed your phone started to sound at the notifications of a few messages making you smile because you knew who was sending them

my champ

BABYYYYYYY

WAKE UP

IT'S A NEW BEAUTIFUL DAY

my beautiful girl

good morning love

are you already on the set??

my champ

since five in the morning

I can't believe it's snowing in the middle of april

I wish you were here

my beautiful girl

I wish I was there with you too

That's what I get for not checking my passport

my champ

hey, are you feeling well?

your texts feel a little off

For a moment you consider to tell him about the tweets but you didn't want to distract him from the filming of his new movie

my beautiful girl

yeah, it's just that I didn't slept too much

I had a little insomnia

my champ

you should sleep a little after getting breakfast

to feel better

my beautiful girl

definetely I'm going to take that advice

my champ

and if I have free time during that we could facetime

my beautiful girl

yes to everything

my champ

it's a date

Smiling for the conversation, both of you continued chatting until he was called to film

"Kid, pack a suitcase for four days", Skeet announced appearing in your door with his phone on hand

"What? Dad, my passport is expired"

"I already know that, you are going to stay in Anna's house"

"I thought she was with Jack on Canada", you frowned

"I talked to her, she said she needed to come back for work, so you are staying with her until I come back, now get up and pack your things"

Finnally getting up from bed, you change into some of you regular clothes with Jack's favorite pink hoodie on top, to start packing some clothes, personal stuff plus your laptop and the materials to keep practicing your VFX make up on you

Once your suitcase and backpack were ready, both of you went to the car that was waiting to take them to their destinies

Thankfully, Jack's house wasn't so far from yours so after a thirty minute drive, the car stopped in the driveway where Anna was already waiting in the entrance

After getting your luggage and saying goodbye to your dad, you walk towards the house meeting with Anna in the middle

"Hi angel", Anna greeted while hugging you, "Skeet told me you weren't feeling well, want to talk about it?"

"Hi Anna", you responded, "Yeah, I would like to"

When your things were inside Jack's room, you and Anna went to the kitchen where the both of you started to make breakfast

"So, what happenned?", Anna asked while the waffles were being cooked

"Some nasty tweets about me that I found last night", you sighed

Taking your phone out, you entered to Twitter and showed her the tweet with all the responses

"Honey, I don't want to read them because I know that everything they say is false", Anna said causing tears to start pooling in your eyes, "You are one of the most wonderful girls that I've ever known, and I'm glad that you are in mine and Jack's lifes, have you told him about this situation?"

"We talked earlier but I didn't told him, I know he's filming and I don't want to distract him, he's excited about this role"

"You'll have to tell him at some point"

"I know, it's just that I don't want to distract him"

"If you don't tell him, I will", Anna joked serving the waffles

Laughing for that phrase, you help to bring the rest of the things to the table for breakfast

After finishing breakfast and helping to clean the kitchen, you went to Jack's room to unpack some things and have the nap that he suggested early in the morning, including the facetime that both of you agreed to do

"There she is", Jack exclaimed making you smile, "Wait, is that my room?"

"Yeah, dad didn't want to left me alone while he's at the convention because I didn't felt good, so he talked to your mom and here I am"

"Is because you didn't slept all night?"

"Yeah, and I didn't slept for some things that I read", at that point you felt tears starting to fall out of your eyes which you tried to clean, "Some tweets about me, about us"

"Baby..."

"There's no death threats fortunately, but it still feels awful to read those things"

"You are none of the horrible things that people say on the internet, you are the sweetest and most gorgeous girl I've ever met, and I'm happy that we were the only minors during Scream 6", that phrase made you laugh, causing Jack to feel proud for getting a smile from you, "Don't let those type of comments get to you, they don't know how you are, they don't know you how the people who love you does, like I love you"

"I love you too", you smiled

Seeing how your eyes were closing due to the lack of sleep, Jack convinced you to take the nap he suggested, staying in the videocall the whole time, even reading a fairy tale with fun voices causing you to laugh loud, until during the second story you finnaly managed to fall asleep

When Jack noticed that you were asleep, he took a screenshot because he tough you looked cute sleeping while hugging baby dragon Jake, before hanging up to enter Instagram and post something about the theme

yn.ulrich, masonthegooding, misstrinitybliss and 156, 530 more

jackchampion I remember the first time I saw Y/N, it was during the welcome reunion before fimlimg Scream VI, we were the only "kids" in there and we started talking, at that moment I realised that she was chaotic, good soul and heart, the purest vibes that I ever felt, kind, humble, gorgeous, cares about every living being, intelligent, creative and much more adjectives that aren't enough to describe how wonderful she is

Seeing the girl you love crying over nasty tweets about her and about our relationship was heartbreaking, she doesn't deserve any of that, she doesn't bother anyone, she doesn't mess with anyone, nobody should suffer things like this because some of you think things that are completely false

So, pelase, if you are one of the people who posted those tweets or responded to them, delete it, because you are messing with the mental health of someone I love

Comments disabled

[p1nk-b1tes]

tessellate

[ bloodweave smut ]

summary: it's their second night in the elfsong tavern and both gale and astarion can't seem to find rest like the rest of their companions have. gale's hot, astarion's horny, and they can't keep their hands to themselves. warnings: top astarion, bottom gale, anal sex, grinding... words: 3522

inspired by this work of art by s0calledlass on twitter!

click here to read on ao3 or read below:

Astarion can’t rest. 

It’s the second night since he and the rest of his party moved their belongings into the upper floor of the Elfsong Tavern, and the second night in a row that he’s been reduced to tossing and turning and counting the knots in the wood that make up the ceiling just to occupy his brain while the seconds tick by. Restlessness is a cruel curse, especially in a place where he should be experiencing anything but restlessness… 

It’s as if the mattress is too soft. The snow white sheets feel like sandpaper against his skin despite the thread count being the nicest fabric he’s touched in weeks, and the huge room is far too quiet. He and his companions have been sleeping on dirt, day after neverending day, and somehow that had felt more comfortable to him than this – though it wasn’t like the vampire ever remembered what it had felt like to sleep on feathers and thread. 

Not like the others can. 

They sleep in their borrowed beds like they haven’t experienced rest in a tenday, curled up tight and as if they’ve casted Feign Death upon themselves. And apart from the constant drone of voices from drunken patrons down below, the Elfsong itself is still. Almost eerie in comparison to the liveliness of when he’d shared a bottle of Esmeltar Red downstairs with Shadowheart and Gale and laughed with Wyll about past memories of cheekily-induced tavern brawls. 

Having a solid roof over his head feels nice, but he’s already begun to not look forward to having the last lantern extinguished for the night. 

Karlach snores softly from her bed only a short distance away and Astarion hasn’t heard as much as a peep from anyone else in a long while. But there is one other person who can’t seem to find rest within this new atmosphere… 

The wizard whom he’s gradually grown to enjoy sharing his personal space in proximity of – at a healthy distance, of course, but nearness nonetheless. 

Gale. 

He tosses and turns in his bed, fighting with the sheets in an ongoing battle that has recently left them draped in a ball over his hips with limbs splayed in every direction like a seastar and a limp wrist hanging over the side of the mattress into open space. Usually Astarion envies the man for his magic-like ability to fall asleep whenever and wherever he so desires, but tonight he almost feels a relief in knowing he’s not the only one incapable of drifting off. 

The vampire lies on his side with his back to him, listening as the other turns over for the thousandth time and adjusts the sheet once again that he tore from where it was tucked so neatly under the end of the mattress. He listens carefully, mapping out his position and the little shifts he makes in desperation of comfort with his ears alone. Something to do… A little game. 

Gale moves and he must be on his stomach again if the heavy sigh that escapes from his lungs is any indication. 

Part of Astarion wants to look. Just to make sure that he’s right or momentarily give himself something to do, so he maneuvers onto his opposite side and rests his head of silver curls on the inside of his bicep – a makeshift pillow that isn’t so unbearably plush. 

In moments like these he’s thankful for his ability to see in the dark. Mostly because it tends to come in handy, but also because he’s right. Gale is spread flat on his stomach and Astarion watches the slow expansion and contraction of his ribcage as he breathes, struggling to succumb to sleep. Then suddenly he’s watching as the man gives up, cracking a single eye open to squint blindly towards the direction of his bed. 

“I can feel you staring,” he mumbles in a drawn-out string of breathy, word-like sounds that cut through the silence as if he’d rather been yelling. Astarion hums. It’s neither an admission nor a defense, but an acknowledgement of his conscious presence, and Gale sucks in a deep breath through his nose, continuing. “It’s not very polite.” 

There’s a long moment of nothingness, and then – 

“It’s too damn hot in here.” 

This time Astarion manages to respond with actual words, speaking quietly at the same time that he adjusts the weight of his head on the muscle it rests on. “I thought it was alright actually.” 

Their little glimpse of back and forth dies out again and Gale’s singular eye falls victim to the weight of his eyelid, closing, brow lowering with it, flat and lax. Astarion follows the line of his bearded jaw to his neck, down to the soft swells of muscles in his back, eyes trained on the slight sheen of sweat stuck to his skin like a film, reminiscent of that one time he had snuck into the wizard’s tent while they explored the underdark. He had still loathed him then – every part of him, from his agitating voice to his constant inability to keep up while traveling on foot – but there had been a strange pull about him that night that had led his feet across camp to his bed once the fire had died out and the atmosphere had gone quiet. 

Just for a taste of the weave, he’d tried to rationalize, and what a taste he had gotten. 

Now, as his eyes rake across that sheen he’s faced with hazy memories of how his skin had felt under his palms and how his thighs had jiggled when he thrusted into him. How he’d had to bite his lip until it drew blood to stay quiet when Astarion had flipped them over and mounted him… How he’d almost bitten him again. 

Almost… (He’s not that stupid to forget what happened the first time.) 

He’d been on his back then. Maybe it’s good that he’s not now. 

The memories fade from his mind but never completely dissipate from his consciousness. 

Astarion feels his dick twitch. 

More time passes painfully slowly and Astarion diverts his attention to the muffled yelling coming from a drunkard below on the street. He goes on for a while, slurring his words about something and someone and missing a pouch of coin. From what he’s able to gather it’s obvious that someone with a sneaky hand snatched it from the bastard, but he fails to listen any longer when Gale turns over again to his side and presents him with his back. Skin shiny and smooth. And just like that, Astarion feels that strange pull again as he rises from his bed to join the one adjacent to his own. 

His weight dips into the mattress as he finds a space for himself, tangling their legs together and pressing his chest against Gale’s back. His right arm drapes over his ribs to tuck itself under the opposite curve of his sticky chest. At first Gale tenses, reasonably confused at the sudden intrusion, but then the coolness of Astarion’s undead vessel begins to seep into his boiling skin like roots through dirt and he finds himself leaning into it, finally feeling a taste of relief for the first time in hours. 

Astarion knows his body is cold. Cooler than normal. It’s not something he tends to try and dwell on, but Gale had said something about it that night when he’d first entered him. 

“I just didn’t expect you to be so… cool.”

Why exactly he’d carried himself over just for a cuddle isn’t too clear in his head, especially with the images of Gale’s girth swimming in his head and the chub of his dick pressed against the other man’s lower back, but he does his best to welcome it. When Gale pulls at the arm tucked around him and pulls him closer it helps a little bit, and Astarion shifts so that he’s practically wrapped around his back. Enveloping him entirely in that coolness. 

He smells the scent of him where he’s buried his nose into his nape. His chestnut hair tickles his cheek and Gale smells of parchment and sweat and a hint of lingering woodsmoke. 

His dick fattens up a little more and this time Gale is sure to feel it. 

It begins just like that – Gale tugs the vampire closer and Astarion’s body rouses. A push and pull, a battle for what they both want but won’t directly ask for. A taste. Coolness. Relief. Then when he can’t possibly get any closer, Gale locks his legs with Astarion’s long ones and the poor man can help but press their hips flush and grind. 

For all that Gale had been complaining about burning up, he sure doesn’t seem to mind the friction building between them. 

The hand tucked under Gale’s chest migrates to find a nipple, and his palm is quick to knead and grope at the meat of his pec, pushing and pulling at the flesh to encourage his body against his own at the same slow pace that his hips rock forward into his ass. It’s around the same time that Astarion noses his hair out of the way to attach his lips to a sweet spot on his neck and suckle lightly on the skin. Teasing the delicate membranes with the sharp tip of a fang before retreating and finding a different spot. They both know he won’t bite, but the thrill is all the same. 

The low hum that Gale allows to rumble from deep in his throat lights a flickering flame in Astarion’s belly that only really begins to catch when Gale begins to roll his own hips back, meeting the pace that he’s established with a pleasurable pressure against his hard cock that is nothing less than divine. 

“Let me in you,” Astarion breathes, right into his ear, and Gale hums again, so pretty, craning his neck to find the other’s crimson colored irises in the pitch black. “This is not the place–” he begins to say, but Astarion smothers his words with a single press to the edge of his jaw so that he can mouth directly into the open cavern between his lips, “–it was hardly the place before.” 

He can practically see the gears turning in the wizard’s head as he thinks about which it he’s referring to. It could have been that night in the tent so long ago, or the second night in Astarion’s, or the sneaky blowjob in the basement of the Last Light Inn, or even that time he rubbed him to completion next to the fire while the rest of their party finished up preparing dinner… To be fair, there tends to never be the right place, so what makes what’s happening now any different? Gale lets him nose at his cheek while he considers for a moment longer. 

“We’ll have to be silent as a mouse,” he eventually says, and Astarion pulls his body close for a particularly rough grind that makes both of their heads spin. “If I remember correctly, darling, you’re usually the one pressing the shape of your own maw into the back of your hand to stifle your noises.” 

Gale rolls his eyes and sighs, tilting his hips back as far as he can (which isn’t much considering how stiff his back is most of the time, but it’s the idea that counts), and resigns. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“And what did you expect when you started mingling with a vampire?” 

Gale chooses not to answer but Astarion interrupts the silence lingering between them by dipping his fingers into the top hem of his underwear and tugging the article down the front of his hips. What follows suit is a quick shedding of clothing that probably is a little too loud with the rustling of the messed sheets under their backs as they become bare and Astarion gets the wizard onto his back beneath him. 

Suddenly, the room begins to feel even hotter than it had before. 

Gale nearly wakes the entirety of their camp when he yelps at the feeling of a finger prodding lightly at his rim. And he nearly does it again when Astarion later adds a second. By the time he relaxes enough to allow the vampire to work in a third he’s at least prepared for the strange and foreign feeling of the stretch as his rim becomes stuffed with those skillful, long digits. The real test of his self-discipline is the moment that Astarion slips his fingers from his hole to grab at his cock and line the blunt, already leaking head up with it instead. 

He has to attempt the initial push past the tight ring of muscle twice, after learning very quickly that the wizard is disastrously reactive to penetration, and settles on the quick and simple solution of smothering his gaping mouth with his palm. Despite that, he still gasps sharply through his nose when the head of his cock enters him, but a few slow and shallow thrusts are all it takes for him to dig his teeth into his lip and shut up. 

Astarion starts with an agonizingly slow pace, leaning over the other man while propped up on his forearms and allowing little space between them in case someone decides to wake up and pop their head up for a curious peek. He allows him as much time as he needs to get used to the stretch of his girth and the intrusion of his length in his ass, and the vampire pays rapt attention to how his body reacts when he pushes in a little deeper or changes the harsh angle of his hips. When Gale tenses and grabs at his back he knows to wait, and when he starts to breathe again he knows that he can continue (though from what he’s managing to gather rather quickly, bottoming doesn’t appear to be a common occurrence for the other man… if ever). 

Astarion bites back his own noises as he carves out a space for himself inside his body, feeling the warmth of his insides and watching his features twitch and shift in response to every minute movement his body makes. He gives him a little thrust and pulls all the way out just to push back in with the same force, and Gale pries his palm from his lips. 

“Astarion– you gotta – you–...” The vampire shushes him quickly and buries himself a little deeper. “–more.” 

With a single, sudden snap of his hips, Astarion slides in wholly to the hilt, forgetting for a moment the potential for disaster that is Gale’s mouth in turn to giving into his overwhelming need for a brief moment. 

It’s a miracle that all that comes out is air when he throws his head back into the pillow and clutches at the hard planes of his shoulder blades. His blunt nails feel like they’re trying to tear into the skin between his scars and Astarion buries his face into his neck to muffle the sounds that threaten to tear from his throat. 

Deep inside, so deep inside… 

He waits a second to move again for both of their sakes, then raises Gale’s shaking knees up higher to bend at either side of his rib cage. He pushes experimentally on the tops of his shins just to see how far he can get Gale’s legs up by his chest to open him up further, and it’s a blessing that his eyes are closed or he might’ve seen the flush of embarrassment that floods underneath the wizard’s cheeks as he folds him like he would a flexible woman. 

But the slight change in position did open him up more, and Astarion takes advantage of the opportunity to press their bodies together. Warm and so close. 

He gets lost in him quickly – the way that his skin feels against his own, warm and sticky with a new layer of sweat, and the tight flutter of his hole, pulsing and squeezing unrelentingly around his cock. Every pointed punch of his hips and every deliberate grind is better than the last and he’s leaking inside of him, slicking him up from the inside, and providing the ability to explore the deepest parts of him that he can reach. 

He wraps an arm under Gale’s back to hold their bodies flush when the other man begins to squeeze against his sides with his knees, ankles hooking sheepishly around the small of his back every few thrusts to encourage the slide of his hips into his own. He just feels so good, so velvety and hot, and Astarion can’t help himself when his free hand tangles up into those thick, chestnut locks and pulls, forcing his head back to expose that pretty neck. Gale’s cock throbs from where it’s trapped between their bodies. 

It’s a miracle that nobody has woken up yet to yell at them. 

Although they aren’t necessarily making any sort of obvious noise, the sound of their labored breathing gets carried through the air, and the more that the thin sheets get crumpled at their feet will only make for a louder thud when the ball eventually gets kicked to the floorboards. 

Gale huffs into Astarion’s curls at the side of his head, a broken combination of consonants breathed into the silvery strands with every thrust, as if he’s forcing them out of him. Astarion pants similarly into the small pocket of air between Gale’s shoulder and neck. His breath sticks to his skin like warm condensation. His brows are knit together in pleasure, mouth hung ajar as he expertly grinds into the other man, making sure the head of his cock hits all of those spots to make his nerves light up and steal little noises of ah, ah, ah that don’t float far from their bed. 

“Astarion–” Gale chokes out around the feeling of him in his throat, “I’m not going to last much longer.” 

A particularly rough grind has Gale choking on his tongue. 

“Neither am I, just hold on a little longer.” 

Astarion feels it – the feeling in his balls and the building tension in his abdomen as he wanders closer and closer to the edge. He thrusts a little harder, grinds a little rougher, and Gale is quick to drop both of his wide hands to his pale glutes to hold him at bay when their hips begin to slap together. 

A few more pointed thrusts are all it takes for Gale to spurt into the space between their bodies, slicking up both of their abdomens with his cum while Astarion continues to chase his orgasm. 

At first Gale does his best to help him get there – return a little of the favor. He clenches around him in an erratic pulsing pattern, pets at his spine and tangles his fingers into the slight dampness at the back of his head to bury his face in his neck, but then the overstimulation begins to settle in, blooming from his waning euphoria as the entire length of his underside continues to to get rubbed raw by the rippling, hard muscle of Astarion’s belly. 

Over, and over, and over again. 

He winces and a weak, uncomfortable noise bubbles up from his throat. It gets drowned out by the increasing pitch of Astarion’s panting that gets sharper and sharper, more staccato, harsh, and then the pale one is pulling out in a single quick movement to get a hand between their bodies and jerk his dick to completion. 

He finishes in the dark hair that covers Gale’s tummy and leaves a magnificent painting of pearlescent ropes across the plane, sighing in relief when he finally spurts his last drop into his dark pubic hair. 

They look at eachother, wordlessly. The air between them mingles as they share one last breath, and then just like he did that night in the underdark when he’d slipped into Gale’s tent, he’s already working on retrieving his underwear and trousers before the other man can even out the rapid rise and fall of his chest or clean the sticky mess from his skin. Astarion rises from the bed to make his last move of escape and a hand finds itself wrapped around his wrist. 

His brow furrows. 

“Just stay a little longer,” Gale says, voice no louder than a whisper, and for once they notice that the Elfsong has gone quiet in the dead of night. 

“Gale, darling, I cannot be tangled in your bed when the others wake up.” 

He attempts to retreat again but Gale holds onto him. Grip unfaltering.  

“It’s way too hot in here for you to just leave me to suffer.” 

The vampire sighs. The wizard tugs him back to his bed. “Fine,” he says, and begins to crawl back into his space, “but only a little longer…”

[hermitscratch]

clothing swap ethubs?

Send me a pairing + a prompt! || Accepting

C1: Clothing Swap, Etho/Bdubs, 735 words

The world woke Etho slowly.

The windows were open, breezes airing the room with the smell of spring foliage from Bdubs' blossoming garden and wet dirt from last night's rain. Gently flapping curtains let streams of morning sunlight slip between them, twitters of birdsong heralded what would be a beautiful day, and Etho's eyes fluttered in the peaceful limbo between alert and asleep.

He rolled over, and gave serious consideration to staying put. Bdubs was very passionate about the quality of his sleep, and the bed was as luxurious as mid-game resources could make it. On his back, Etho was already sinking into the plush wool and sponge, but an intrusive twinge of soreness pushed him into full wakefulness.

Okay. Potion first, then the bed could eat him.

Etho sat up. Digging himself from the bed's comfortable clutches took Herculean effort, but it was worth it to feel the way his joints and muscles loosened with his first stretch. Arms over his head and back arched, he breathed deep of the nature carried in by the wind.

There was something else, too, a sweet smell from behind the bedroom door that told Etho exactly where he'd find Bdubs.

If he could just find his clothes.

They hadn't been particularly careful with that last night, things chucked left or right to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. Bdubs must have tidied after he woke up- if draping the shed articles in a pile over the bed's footboard could be considered such- but none of it was what Etho had walked in with yesterday.

It beat a nude stroll, though. He helped himself to a pair of boxers from Bdubs' drawers, and picked through the pile for the rest. Etho didn't have the broad shoulders Bdubs did, the white shirt's V-neck sitting lower than it should. The dark jeans were loose on his waist and short on his legs, the artful rips showing more of his thighs than his knees. It felt silly, but he could handle silly for a couple of hours.

Etho crept from the bedroom on bare feet, the sweet smell joined by the sound of sizzling and the promise of breakfast beckoning him closer to the kitchen. It was mouthwatering, enough that he almost didn't notice that he'd found his missing clothes.

Bdubs' back was to him, manning a pan that now held something savory- pork sausage, if Etho had to guess. He was humming something, slow and familiar, swaying on his feet. His sweatpants- or rather, Etho's sweatpants- were rolled up, the ankle elastic folded to hold the fabric around Bdubs' calves. The compression shirt, black and sleeveless, was doing the work of his absent binder, the neck zipper partway undone.

Etho leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, "I was wondering where my clothes went."

Bdubs startled, but recovered quickly. "My floor, my clothes!" He answered smugly, shooting a cheeky grin over his shoulder and brightening even further as he got a look at Etho, "And I knew you'd wear that if you couldn't find yours."

Ah. "Oh no," Etho chuckled softly, pushing off the doorway. Bdubs turned to face him properly, eyes sparkling as they looked Etho up and down, "You mean I played right into your hands?"

"Eeyep," Bdubs drawled, arms threading around Etho's waist. His voice was soft, chin on Etho's chest, looking up at him with something like awe. "Gods, get a look at you. I'm so proud of me."

Etho snorted, and reached around to take the pan off the heat before draping his arms around Bdubs shoulders. "This really does it for you, huh? An old shirt and ripped jeans that don't fit?"

Bdubs pulled away just enough to squint at him, "First of all, whaddaya mean, an old shirt? Cleo made it for me in Season Nine, I'll have you know!"

"Which was like two years ago now, but y'know..." Etho ribbed.

Bdubs scoffed, "Second of all! You look good in anything! I'll be accepting no complaints, criticisms, or depreciations-"

"What about grievances?"

"Nope!"

"Objections?"

"Overruled! Now, the third and most important thing," Bdubs continued, leaning in again to nuzzle the column of Etho's neck, marred in spots with bruising color. The scratch of morning stubble made Etho shiver, and Bdubs smiled, "It doesn't matter what you're wearing. I like that it's mine."

In that, Etho couldn't agree more.

[flyingwargle]

suna is in a good mood.

"look at you, beaming like the sun has finally shone in your favor," komori drawls, nudging him in the locker room. "did one of your shitposts finally become viral on twitter?"

"that happened already," washio reminds him from across the bench. "remember that edit he made with miya?"

"you can have more than one shitpost go viral. well?" komori prompts.

suna pulls his t-shirt off for another. "it's nothing. looking forward to going home, that's all."

"i would too, if it weren't for the giant pile of bills that i ignored over the last month. what, is something special happening?"

"no."

"so elusive. come on, tell me!"

"if you look at the calendar," washio says, "i think you'll know."

"why do you also..." komori trails off as he does what he's told, breaking into a grin and giving suna another nudge. "you're so whipped, lover boy."

he shrugs him off, throwing his shorts into his gym bag and pulling on his jeans. with a last survey of his locker and bench, he zips his gym bag and swings it over his shoulder. "i'll see you guys next week."

"looking forward to the onigiri!" komori calls out after him. suna rolls his eyes, but he doesn't suppress his smile.

once a month for a week, osamu travels from hyogo to shizuoka to spend time with him, taking a break from the chaotic day-to-day restaurant work to experiment with new recipes, do administrative work, and generally unwind. although practice takes up most of suna's time, they relish in whatever domesticity they can afford, even if it's small moments like these once a month.

his apartment is half an hour away by train without any transfers, the building itself only a block away from the station. he texts osamu the entire time, who should be at home, unless he went out to buy groceries. another perk of his location is that it’s close to the supermarket, which makes grocery runs or preparing for board game night at his place convenient.

suna gets off at his stop and makes the short walk home. osamu still hasn't replied to him – is he that engrossed in whatever he's doing to not check his phone? oh, well, it'll be interesting to see what he's up to. suna enters his building, takes the elevator up, and unlocks the front door. "i'm back."

silence. not even the kitchen fan is whirring, which is a constant whenever osamu visits. with a raised eyebrow, he kicks his shoes off, treads down the hallway. "'samu?"

a pot simmers on the stove at low heat. the counters are filled with various bowls and pans, stained but otherwise empty. osamu is at the dining table, uncovered bowl of sushi rice left out, smaller dishes of fillings surrounding him. his head is lowered over the surface, cap pulled low. suna reaches over to lift it, realizes that he's asleep.

he has his phone out in an instant. he snaps a few pictures, smiling at his boyfriend's peaceful expression, the faintest snores rumbling at the back of his throat, his chest rising and falling in a languid rhythm. suna clears the rest of the table, moves a chair to sit beside him, and rests his head to face him.

it’s reminiscent of high school. osamu would nap after eating lunch, and suna would sit beside him, shake him awake when class resumes. once, though, he mirrored him, admired the way his eyes were curved, lips slightly parted, hair falling lightly over his eyes. he had brushed it away, noticed his natural dark hair color beneath the dyed gray, the messy bangs that sweep toward the right to distinguish him from his twin.

now, years later, his hair has returned to his natural color. there are darker shadows beneath his eyes, bangs still messy. suna reaches forward to brush them away. in the past, his touch never lingered; now, his fingers remain threaded through his hair, giving him a full view of his boyfriend’s face. affection floods him, and he leans forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. as he pulls away, osamu begins to stir, and a bleary eye opens at him. “rin?” he slurs.

“hey. didn’t mean to wake ya.”

osamu opens the other eye, slowly moving upright, wincing as he stretches his arms over his head. he looks around, blinks at the pot on the stove, the dishes left over the counters, then at him. “how long was i out for?”

“you were already asleep by the time i came home.”

“oh.” he blinks, realization sinking in a moment later. “oh.”

“you said that already.”

“welcome home.”

suna blinks, caught by surprise. he smiles. “thanks. happy to be home.”

they stand and survey the kitchen. “i was workin’ on a stew for dinner and new fillings for onigiri,” osamu says, gesturing at the dirty dishes, “but i guess i fell asleep while waitin’. hope it’s still salvageable.”

“you can save any food disaster.” suna takes his jacket off and heads for the sink. “i’ll clean, and you do whatever you were doing?”

“what did i do to bag a man who washes dishes?”

“you make me dinner.”

osamu chuckles. “ain’t that the fairest trade ya ever heard of?”

the stew is, fortunately, salvageable, and the dishes are washed and stacked on the dish rack. they sit across from each other, chatting about their days, then make onigiri to eat later. curled on the couch, they watch cooking videos for recipes that osamu wants to try to make. the night ends with a late snack, sleep descending on them in their shared bed, limbs tangled together, blanket thrown over their heads.

it’s a simple life, but it’s a life that suna is more than happy to have.

[formulalfc]

Set Up

Mick x Reader

tw-cheating, crying swearing?

You were sat at home with you two best friends, enjoying a night in as you hadn’t seen them in a while. Ever since you had gone public about your relationship with your boyfriend Mick, you had been spending your time in the paddock with him.

But this weekend while you were in England, which was your home country, Mick had insisted you spend some time with your friends and while you loved going to his races you were more than happy to oblige.    

Your night had been going great, drinking wine and gossiping about anything and everything you guys could think of, some rom-com playing quietly in the background while you chatted.

You had just headed to the kitchen to grab another bottle when you heard a gasp from the living room, you frowned quickly grabbing the bottle before heading back to your girls, inquiring, “everything okay?” As you entered the room.

Both girls looked up at you from where they sat huddled around a phone, sympathetic looks on both their faces before one of them said, “I think you’re going to want to see this honey.”

Now you were really worried, depositing the wine on the coffee table as you took the phone that was being handed to you.

Your heart dropped.

On the screen was a twitter thread of pictures of your boyfriend Mick and some random girl seemingly all over each other in the paddock.

For a minute you just sat there frozen until the reality of what you were looking at crashed down and sobs erupted from you.

Your friends manoeuvred you so you were lead between them as you cried and cried, stroking your hair and whispering sweet words to try and make you feel better.

After a while your sobs had quietened down but your mind was moving faster than any f1 car has ever driven.

Maybe this girl was the reason he’d wanted you to have a night in with your girls instead of being at the paddock.

Maybe this relationship didn’t mean as much to him as he said it did.

Maybe he didn’t even love you. Because if he did how could he go and do that with some other woman.

You heard your front door open and close and you scrunched your eyes shut and shoved your face into a pillow not ready to face the man who had just shattered your heart into pieces.

You felt one of your friends get up, placing themselves in front of you in order to make sure he couldn’t get to you.

Mick’s heart shattered as he saw you curled up on the sofa shaking, he had never seen you look so small and the fact that he was the reason you were in this position made him feel an overwhelming sense of self-hatred.

You hear a voice, “baby…. please, I know how it looks b-but I promise you, I swear on anything it is not what it looks like.”

You scoffed, looking up at Mick, “What it looks like Mick is that you were willing to throw away our relationship, everything we worked for over some girl.”

You were furious, absolutely seething now that you had run out of tears.

“No-no-no-no listen, I was in the garage and one of the staff introduced this girl to me and she asked if she could get a picture with me.” He sighed, “I said yes to the picture cause you know me I can’t say no to people and as I put my arm around her she kissed me. Baby I pushed her off straight away but someone must have got that picture in that moment. I love you so so much, more than anything and I am so sorry that she did that and I’m so sorry I didn’t realise what she was going to do.”

Your shoulders slumped, so tired from the rollercoaster of emotions you had been through in the last hour.

From the way Mick was looking at you, tears spilling down onto his cheeks and his bottom lip shaking like he too was trying to make sure he didn’t sob, you knew he was telling the truth.

Your friends seemed to realise it was okay to leave you two alone now and went and sat in the kitchen as they called an uber.

Mick moved closer to you, slowly reaching for your hands, thumbs stroking over your knuckles as you finally looked up into his eyes.

You let your forehead rest on Micks, whispering to him, “I was so scared Micky, I thought you had fallen out of love with me.”

“I could never, ever fall out of love with you my darling”, he stated, placing a kiss on your forehead before he sat down on the sofa and pulled you into his lap.

Tucking his face into your neck and placing kisses along your collarbone, you sighed finally content in his arms again as you spoke, “I think I’ll come to the race tomorrow.”

[bbiekazu]

OCTOBER BIRDS.

Sometimes, sad memories resurface on the days that are supposed to be the happiest.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha x gn! reader.

cw/genre: I had imagined this in a modern au… Other than that, angsty fluff and comfort for Kazu.

Something I put together tonight for my beloved Kazuha’s birthday ! It was inspired by a fanart I saw on twitter. It ended up being more angsty than I anticipated… Regardless, I hope you enjoy <3

Reblogs and comments appreciated !

‘Snap’

The sound of a camera shutter pulls you out from your momentary daze.

You turn around, smiling at the author of your unsuspecting picture.

He returns the smile, his features rivaling the gentleness of the sunset before you.

“Kazuha,” You chuckle. “Come join me already! Why so many pictures?” You ask him, with a soft laugh.

He closes his eyes for a moment. an enigmatic smile on those lips that whispered the sweetest verses.

In your silence, the white kitten that was resting on your lover’s shoulder until a moment ago, jumps down, running to rest on your lap.

You pet the little one in between his ears, as the feline purrs happily.

This time, Kazuha doesn’t take a picture.

He finally joins you, sitting beside you in the grass.

“Because you’re stunning, dove.” He replies to your lingering question.

His face nuzzles against the crook of your neck, rosy lips that carried the poetry of the wind and the sea, tenderly brushing your skin.

One of your hands reaches up to comb through his hair, stars threaded in silken moon flowing like waves against a clear sand coast.

“Why, thank you, but, you know, I’m not going anywhere, Kazuha.” A kiss to his temple. “You have me right here.”

He lets out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch.

It’s so peaceful here; just you and him, your kitten pawing his legs and the sounds of the late October birds.

Kazuha wishes he could capture this moment forever, to freeze it in time; a photograph that never succumbs to the inevitable passing of light and time.

“I know, I know…” The poet trails off, for once, seemingly at a loss for words. “It’s just… I don’t want this moment to end.”

You halt your movements.

“Kazuha.” You call his name, to him, to the last rays of sun that are hiding behind the distant horizon. “Look at me.”

Your hands cup his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks.

Those gentle autumn eyes draw you in, akin to the fleeting light of a candle on a snowy night. Warm, comforting, beckoning you to put your hands around it as you recall fond memories.

And yet, you can see so much grief and loss in them on instances like this one.

Long lashes flutter closed and open again, a complete constellation, enduring the blaze of a dawning sky.

“Today is your special day, my love.” You tell him, tone gentle. “It’s too beautiful a day to think about sad things, don’t you think?” You offer him a melancholy smile. Your hands find his, fingers slotting between his.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this just now.” Kazuha lets out with a sigh.

“Don’t worry about it, my dear.” You scoot closer to him, arms wrapping around his form. “You’ll always have me here, I told you.”

For a fleeting moment, both your gazes stare at the approaching nightfall, coppery light fading to transitioning shades of blue flecked in silver.

At the point where they both merge, an intrepid shooting star dares to brave the twilight.

“Make a wish, Kazuha.” You whisper.

Your kitten meows, as if seconding your statement, eliciting a chuckle from the poet.

“Alright, done.” Is his reply, his gaze, that merges with the still orange horizon, focused on you.

Your faces are inches apart; the starry infinity reduced to your mingled breaths; every colliding nebula, silent in comparison to your tangled heartbeats.

You close the distance.

“Happy birthday, my beloved.”

Are your last words, before leaning in.

[kazukazuhas]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 💌 ꒱ old friends, lloyd garmadon.┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 💌 ꒱ act one ;; scene three┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

  ୧ ⎯⎯ OBLIVIOUS

୧ ⎯⎯ WARNINGS ;; light hearted teasing ;; implied betrayal / trust issues

  ୧ ⎯⎯ NOTES ;; so, when i made the tweets weeks ago, i realized what the conflict for this story will be. also, weekend whip!! sorry if this is shit too

  ୧ ⎯⎯ PREVIOUS ┊MASTERLIST┊NEXT

  ୧ ⎯⎯ TEXT ;; 11 IMAGES ;; TEXT [CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY]

lloyd sighed, flopped down on the soft, dark coloured blankets of his fairly well-done bed, boredly watching the sky fade into a gentle blue from a deep night colour. the stars barely twinkled in the light blue of the now brighter sun, clouds were yet to drift around. lloyd turned his head to the door to hide from the shiny gold light that managed to slip through the window, he knew he should not have opened the blinds.

he mumbled a small groan, looking to see jay half awake plopping down on his bed in a similar fashion lloyd had done so a few minutes ago. the difference was he almost nearly knocked out immediately, half from his own grogginess and half from yesterday. lloyd needed to remember to thank him for carrying him up to his room last night.

the blond reached a hand to the bed, blind searching for his phone to find something to do while procrastinating getting ready to go out with nya. patrol was always so tiring, considering sometimes they needed to move away from the city to the smallest villages further south.

but, of course they were not alone in protecting the land, so were the elemental masters they met back when they were teenagers, and barely managing to control the full extent of their elements as respective elemental masters. he smiled fondly of his friends.

he locked the phone he managed to find after finally turning to look back to see the mysterious whereabouts of his disappearing phone, the simple thing evaded his hand every time he managed to nearly grab it.

lloyd shook the hand threading through his hair making the blond strands bounce back and forth, humming softly a well loved song amongst their little group- weekend whip, a little inside joke from back years ago when he first joined the little group of younger kid ninjas by accidently busting down the door to his uncle's house while blasting the song on his headphones. as punishment, lloyd got forced into training for a while before kai figured out that this lil' chaos causer was the destined green ninja.

he smiled at the thoughts of his happier days, flipping through the notifications that puddled in since he jumped in the car. the usual tag and article showed up in the pop-up bar, nothing he found much interest in checking out.

mindlessly he opened twitter, and surprisingly all the usernames were his friends. something he'd never usually see on the daily, usually they'd flock together to make their followers confused over their inside jokes but the use of his name further confused him more.

furthermore, seeing the other elemental masters show up as well surprised him beyond his words, what exactly in the name of fsm happened?

. . . what?

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˗ˏˋ ꒰ 💌 ꒱ kazukazuhas copr. 2023 darling┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

[fruitcoops]

Lupin's Run

Happy birthday, Remus! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

In the morning, they called it ‘Lupin’s Run’. Sportscasters across the country showed it for hours, a default part of every segment. Journalists didn’t sleep—their minds flew across keyboards and notebooks with the frenetic energy of a story that wrote itself. Newspapers were heavy with his name. Callbacks to Wisconsin, to his first season, to the quiet years in between. Julian Lupin stayed awake until the early hours listening to his parents’ phones ring off the hook and played magic on loop behind his eyes.

In the morning, Remus Lupin cracked an eye open, turned into his slumbering husband, and went right back to sleep. Post-game dawn called for a few extra hours in bed. He was sore. It was a long night. Maybe in a while, he would lovingly bully Sirius into bringing their coffee up. He stretched, pushing his face deeper into Sirius’ chest and throwing an arm over his torso to trail drowsy fingers over his skin.

“Good morning.”

Remus mumbled his acknowledgement and felt Sirius laugh quietly.

“Sleep well?”

“Gonna sleep better with you.” He nuzzled the soft, warm spot below Sirius’ sternum and peeked up at him. “Don’t you want to cuddle me on my birthday?”

“Oof, dirty play.” A hand threaded through his hair, scratching lightly before coming to rest at the nape of his neck. “You’re all over the news, loup.”

“Wow, that’s never happened before.”

Sirius laugh was louder this time and Remus grinned up at him. The hand in his hair toyed with the ends of his overgrown bedhead while a soft silver gaze watched him with a sweet sort of fondness. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Remus murmured into his ribs.

Th corners of Sirius’ eyes crinkled; he wrapped both arms around him and shuffled down the bed an inch, until they were eye-to-eye and Sirius’ lips brushed his nose in a kiss. “I love watching you skate.”

It was hard to kiss him through their smiles, but they managed.

--

Remus had been a last-ditch effort—a not-so-secret weapon, if you will. Hitting the ground running was tricky on skates and yet he had no other choice. The clock was ticking down. Smitty had already launched himself over the boards with a hope and a prayer that the guys on the bench would catch him so Remus could get out there.

Loops! Sirius had shouted, so loud he almost certainly blew his mic. Go!

The puck came flying out of a mass of bodies. Remus didn’t stick around to watch the hit Sirius intercepted. He caught the puck. Dug his skates in. Went.

It was over in the blink of an eye. Over coffee in bed, Sirius had a fantastic time showing him how quickly his postgame interview had become a meme.

Your goal at the end of the third had millions of people glued to their screens. How did you do that?

Against the bright reds and golds of their locker room, he had looked pale, as if someone shot him full of adrenaline and hard drugs. I have no idea, he had said shakily. They told me to just go. I think I blacked out.

He did remember the goal, in a vague sense. Or rather, the steps leading up to it. It felt like eons in his memory, yet every clip flooding Twitter hardly broke 15 seconds. The jarring zing of his skates finding the ice was the gunshot at a horse race, the familiar rush-shush scrape echoing his shallow breaths. Lightning on skates, they called him. The organization’s proof that he had earned his place through sweat and wildfire passion, not favoritism.

Hufflepuff’s defense was good enough to reliably put them in the playoffs every year. Big guys who knew how to use their size as an advantage and could easily crush Remus given the chance. His job was to take that chance out from under their noses. Big guys had power on their side—they caught up to him at the midline faster than just about anyone else in the league in long, strong strides. But they lacked the tight agility that always made Ravenclaw a tricky opponent, and in those tiny holes in their formation laid Remus’ victory. Tug one loose end, and the yarn unravels to slip through. Hufflepuff was full of dropped stitches.

He darted past the first defenseman so easily it was laughable, then turned and skated backwards as the second dove for him, tapping the puck between his blades. A third tried to take it from his stick and found empty ice as Remus took a hard left toward the goal. They swung back around to meet him as the stragglers caught up—in a brief moment of consciousness, he remembered his silent plea that Logan wouldn’t get a penalty. He was so close. So, so close.

The defense blurred together in blobs of yellow and black in his periphery as he wove loops around them and searched for someone, anyone, to pass to. It seemed the Badgers had learned their lesson; not a single Lion could break through their back wall.

Mine, Remus had thought with dazzling clarity. My puck. My goal. Mine.

Sirius’ flushed, sweaty face. A flash of crimson as he pointed down the ice. Go!

Remus’ exhausted lungs ached and filled his mouth with iron as he sucked in a sharp breath, sprinting straight for the goal. The Badger was looming, but too focused on Talker’s clever crossovers to notice Remus crouching until it was too late. His stick came up just high enough on a turn for Remus to slip beneath in a tight ball, breathless and fever-hot, before straightening and giving a quick twist around the goalie to tap the puck in.

He broke through the surface with a gasp of icy air. The blur in the corners of his vision faded. Noise rushed in, and he barely managed to ground himself before Talker’s full weight hit him like a train. “Did it go in?” he asked wildly, the words breaking in his throat.

“Fuck yes it--!”

That was everything he needed to hear, and where the videos ended. Privately, he was a bit disappointed that they didn’t show the aftermath. The wild excitement of Lions, and the utter confusion—disbelief, even—on the faces of Hufflepuff’s line.

A bit of birthday magic, maybe?

Ha, yeah, I guess so. Sorry, I’m still a little…

Take your time, Loops. I hear there’s a cake for you in the other room.

To be honest, I don’t think I can stand up right now without falling over.

That had made them laugh, like they thought he was joking.

Remus took a sip of coffee and rubbed the edge of the newspaper between his fingertips. “Lupin’s Run,” he read aloud. “Got a nice ring to it.”

Sirius hummed around a bagel. “I’m framing that.”

“Oh, are you?” he laughed.

Dark stubble was rough on his own as Sirius scattered a half-dozen tiny kisses over his cheek. “Right over the mantle, by our Cup rings. Everyone needs to see it.”

“Everyone is seeing it.”

“Then they’ll see it again.”

Sirius’ pride was fierce and his kiss was gentle; a steady hand slipped the mug from Remus’ fingers and set it aside, pulling him close beneath their sheets. It felt so right. The ache in his muscles, the swoop of his stomach, the cool headboard against his temple when he melted under Sirius’ attention. He smelled good, like sleep and sunrise and boy. Like a future Remus could live in forever. He shifted close enough that their sides aligned and let Sirius take him into daylight.

30 years. More than ten thousand mornings. He couldn’t wait for the next one.

[castleofclouds]

ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Nct Dream Alternative Universe OT7.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ pairings ; ot7 × reader (yn)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ disclaimer ; fiction, cursing, 18+ content, kms joke and many more.

Story are by © castleofclouds, do not copy or repost without watermark!

‧₊˚ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹

sumarry : your life was peaceful until your stupid friends start giving you ideas of making thread about ur exes, stirring a whole new problems for you, suddenly one by one of your past start running back to you and opening old books of you and them, how do you act in this situation?

genre : gotta be fluff! texts (sometimes smau) angsty, slowburn, romance, humor, mention of 18+ content.

tag : @bluedbliss, @luvandletter

To All The Boys I've Dated ; Better Run.

“Urghh..”

The liquor got the best of you, who knew a simple cocktail you drank last night would mess you up real bad, you looked past your shoulder, seeing your phone on the drawer next to you, as you open plenty of notification pops up, your head still spinning like crazy, you can't read anything that pops up, even with your eyes squinting, those text still feel a lot of trouble to see with your eyes.

You got up on your feet, washing your face it's weirdly peaceful today, like awfully quiet, your roomate and best friend Karina, supposed to be in her rooms either screaming to waking you up to join classes, yet there's no sign of her in your shared apartment, where could she be? You guys had class together and it's not usual for her to ditch you at this hour.

Changing your pajamas into a much more neat blouse and jeans you looked around seeing your own reflection, you look very tired, there's a dark circles under your eyes, well how can't you not? Yangyang make you drink even though you still had classes the next morning, you want to just strangle him to death the more you think.

As you walk to your campus, you felt eyes behind your shoulder but everytime you turn your head, those staring gone, poof, like some sort of magic powder, what happened today? You felt like a criminal with all of the glaring, but some are different, they somehow pitying you? You? Pitied? What's so awfully about you today? You even take shower today! It's unusual of course, even for you.

Yangyang came out of nowhere, putting his hands on your shoulder like a souvenir, you glared at him, Yangyang seems awfully joyous today, what prank did he had again today? Is it about you?

“Don't touch me, I don't have spare change.” you sulk, your day just started and you can't be bothered about his weird attitude at 9 in the morning.

“Whoa, girl wake up and choose violence today huh? Even though you are a celebrity today? Everyone talking about you,” He explains, pointing at everyone that looking at your direction.

So YOU DO get stared at, but why? There's no specific reason for them to look at you like that.

“Why?” you ask nonetheless.

“You don't remember? Oh babe let me remind you, last night you tweet something don't you? Perhaps about your exes?” The words got out of his mouth, you couldn't believe what you just heard. You do remember you tweeted about it.

But that account only had 4 followers, yangyang, karina, winter and your second.

Well if you didn't include yangyang 5 more stan accounts where he use it for fanboying, the boy had big crush on Ariana Grande, same as you.

“Well yeah? It's just a simple funny dare nothing new what's up?” You said nonchalantly.

“Wow, when karina said you never look at your message box she was right.” He added.

You look at your phone on your hands, you do never look at your message box, you either only use it when texting about movie and nude. Never more. But you did remember your twitter dm box are full with text when you just woke up.

“So you didn't know that the whole campus knew your exes? And your exes actually saw your tweet about them?” Yangyang drop the bomb of information on your weak mind, suddenly a rush of shock wave get into your brain.

OMG, YOU ARE FUCK.

That's all you can think, you hurriedly opened your Twitter and saw a lot of dmed, but you saw seven accounts that you knew a lot, it's your exes accounts. How can they know? You never exposed your account, your tweet never get past 2 likes and two of them from Yangyang stan accounts.

You couldn't open them, you knew if you open it they can see you read their messages.

Instantly you run. Like absolutely went berserk, Yangyang couldn't catch up to you, as you run thinking a simple run could save you from your trouble, you spent a solid 30 minutes running before you finally stopped and rest your tired body under that tree next to the campus track field.

How can your life be much worse than this, you don't have any thought, you questioning whether you should be happy or ask someone to just shoot your head and left you as your body laying limp on the field.

Why them? You cursed yourself for being idiot.

You take a deep breath, it's such a long time ago, your exes wouldn't remember right? But their messages. Fuck.

The only thing you can do now is avoiding, avoiding anybody and any attention, as you ready to walk you found so many familiar faces that would interrogate you if you take any step closer to them so you stopped.

As you looked around, you remembered a lot of memories of your past, you used to be the most loved person on planet, you used to wish to stars, taking pictures of everything that look aesthetically pleasing to your eyes, or just laying on the field while reading and talking for a whole day.

You kinda wanted to hate your exes, but you can't, yet you kinda wish you can, since they are the one who walked away from you leaving you alone with all of this trust issues and broken heart.

Until you found someone its Johnny, the guy that had so many gossip on his head, there's even a saying reason why he had so many hair is because he puts every gossip onto his head causing hair to grew up faster, He found you sitting by yourself, you never looked away so fast.

Oh fuck NO! You quickly get up because if he ever catch you, you done for!

You get up quickly, Johnny start following you as you walk away before taking another leap of marathon. Today is your running day. If you can run from your problems, then so be it, you can't see anybody faces right now! At least not today.

You missed a class, even though you never done it before, such a shame tho today lecturer was your favorite, all because you stupidly agreeing on a bet you made. Karina look at you pity, rubbing your back softly as she cheered you up.

“What's wrong girliee? Is there something wrong?” she asked you worrying, you sigh.

“Why did I even agree to that stupid shit last night, shoulda stop at just drinking now I make my own life miserable..” you want to cry, you couldn't believe how everything happen so fast.

“Aww baby, it's not your fault eh? It's totally normal to speak about your exes besides what's so wrong about thinking of your exes and make a thread about them? most people would do worse than that thank God you didn't sleep with any of your exes?” She assured you, even though you don't how how is that considered assuring to you.

Go home is the only thing you had on mind today, your apartment was close you can just walk there but the amount of running causing stir inside your head, as you walk the crosswalk look very funny, you ended up fainting on the middle of the road.

You could hear Karina voices, and Winter too, they are very worried about you, as you get up you already in a strange place with white walls and curtains.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly change your position to sitting, Winter explains after helping you get up. “You fainted babe, how can you faint in the middle of the road like that? Gosh I'm so worried, Karina cried when she pick up the phone! Yangyang are on his way here,” she talks fast, you could see that both of them had glassy eyes, you caused them to worried. What a terrible friends! You think to yourself.

But, who found you?

“Who found me? I thought the road back to apartment are quite desolated, there's almost nobody past there,” You ask curiously.

“We don't know, the hospital calls us, but they said the guy left a note for you.” as Karina gives you the notes.

“Hey, I paid for your tab so you don't need to, you can paid me back at this address. RCafe, Lilac Street, No 14. Hope you are okay.”

You looked at the notes and feel like your life ended, it's bad enough that you already fainted and some stranger bring you to the hospital, now you owed them money?! Even though you already shorts on one, you could only sigh at the notes you hold.

“Man, if I saw yangyang I would kill him.” you remark, while Yangyang could feels chills all over his body on his ride to the hospital.

—

Masterlist. Next.

A/N :

WHAT DO WE THINK? THE FIRST EPS LET'S GO!! gosh, I'm loving this story too much I've been learning just for this? Are you serious? Man any each way I'm happy with how this turn out ngl, I love the idea of exes, and since I don't see anybody made about exes, I'm gonna make one myself hehehehe, how do we say? Do y'all like it? Hope so, kinda wish I had the life that YN had, not the break up part but the college life, kinda missed it, i'm on the last semester of my campus life soo how life passes 🥺 anyway if anybody would love me to continue please continue suport me with those notes and tweet. Needed it very much! 💓