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rockrosethistle · 1 month ago

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Explaining All The Hatchetfield Lore:

(disclaimer: all lot of this is based on context clues and expositional monologues, so it is my best guess and could be wrong. But I'm pretty sure it's right.)

We start in the 1820's, on an island in Lake Michigan. Now, there's three main families you need to know about here, and those are Muckwabs, the Metzgers, and the Waylons. Remember those because they're important.

So around 1824, Willabella Muckwab discovers the eldritch entities known as the Lords in Black (LiB). She becomes a devoted follower of them, and writes a book out of children's blood, which details their history, how to summon them, spells, prophecies, etc. This book is called the Abominable Tome, but it is most often referred to as the Black Book.

Well maybe the town doesn't like the fact that their children are disappearing, or maybe they discover the book, we don't know exactly what happened. But Willabella Muckwab is tried as a witch and hung. This doesn't kill off the Muckwab family, however, because Willabella had a daughter. That will be important later.

So basically, Willabella is hung by the Metzger family (remember them?) who are often referred to as the Hatchetmen. She is buried in the woods, the black book is lost, but her soul lives on, because of her connection to the Lords in Black. Well this isn't good, so the Hatchetmen begin killing anyone else who shows signs of having magic, burying them around the woods so they can grow into trees, their magic trapping Willabella in a 'web.' All of these magic tree-people form a forest, which is called the Witchwood. The Witchwood has special properties, because of all the magic. It affects the soil and the way things grow, but most importantly, it traps Willabella, who's is known as The Witch in The Web.

Jump ahead to 1827, it's been a couple years since Willabella's death, and that island is now known as the town of Hatchetfield. That's when the the Waylons show up (remember them?) Well, the Agatha and Mathias Waylon find the Black Book, rediscovering the Lords In Black. And isn't this just a super cool religion? Let's get everyone else involved! The Waylon's form a cult, called the Church of The Starry Children, who worship the LiB. They have a ton of people on board, and with the LiB, they offer sacrifices get rich and stay forever young. The Waylon family also sets up 5 Dark Altars around town, which coincides to the 5 Lords in Black. These altars are the Old School House, Waylon hall, the Old Mill, the Hatchetfield Gazette, and the Starlight Theater. All of these are places where somebody could summon the Lords in Black, with very little knowledge or power.

So the Church of The Starry Children has been doing very well for quite a while. In 1945, they begin the Honey Queen festival, a tradition where they elect one woman per year to sacrifice to the Lord in Black, Nibblenephim. They're very good at hiding in plain sight. However, they can't stay hidden forever. In 1975, they are meeting in Waylon Hall, when they are ambushed by the Metzgers, also known as the Hatchetmen. The Hatchetmen massacre the Starry Children, and once again, the Black Book is lost.

I hope you're enjoying this lore because it's only just getting interesting. That was all pretty straight foreword, and people generally don't argue about it. So for a recap, we have Willabella who wrote basically an evil bible for the Lords in Black, and who was murdered by the Hatchetmen. Then you have the Church of the Starry children, who worshipped the Lords in Black, also murdered by the Hatchetmen. Those are our three families. What if I told you that after all this happened, three other characters were up to some wacky hijinks? This is where things get muddy.

Now introducing our three new parties of interest: Willabella's daughter, the PEIP organization, and a mysterious woman only known as Miss Holloway. Here's what's up with those guys.

Miss Holloway was a pop star, rising to fame in the 1980's. We don't know a lot about her backstory, but it is assumed that she witnessed a tragedy, because she sought the help of the Lords in Black. They made her a deal that would allow her to have the power to help those in need, but in return, she would have to give up what she cherished most. (We don't know if those were the exact terms of the deal, but it seems to be the standard deal when it comes to the Lords in Black, so we go with that.) So Miss Holloway takes the deal. She gives up the ability to be remembered: no one knows who she is, and anytime she tries to tell anybody her story, it is immediately erased from their memory. In return, the Lords in Black make her the keeper of the Black Book, as well as magic such as hypnosis, and the ability to regenerate her body. She is able to die, but she always comes back. There is only one thing that can kill her, and that is a dagger known as the Black Blade, which she used to kill a man who made a similar deal, named Wilbur Cross.

But who is Wilbur Cross? To explain that, we have to explain Paranormal, Extraterrestrial, Inter-dimensional Phenomena, or the government agency known as PEIP. Wilbur Cross was an army Colonel, and very high-ranking in PEIP. In 2005, PEIP constructed an inter-dimensional portal to a place outside of time and space known as the Black and White. They didn't know that the B&W was home to the Lords in Black. On October 5, 2005, they sent Wilbur Cross through that portal, where he encountered the Lords in Black and pledged his allegiance to them. He was also gifted powers and immortality, but to serve the Lords in Black, which meant that he used it for evil. He stepped back out of the portal, appearing to the remaking PEIP agents, before disappearing to Hatchetfield, where he murdered Sheriff Douglas Keane.

Remember Willabella's daughter? Well, she had a daughter, who had a daughter, etc. The family tree continued until October 5, 2005, when a couple of things happened simultaneously. The portal was opened to the Black and White at the same time Hannah Foster, the descendant of Willabella Muckwab, was born. This caused a few events to occur, most notably that the timeline was shattered. Until that point, there was only one universe, but on that day, when Hannah was born and Wilbur stepped through the portal, infinite universes were created, branching off from that moment.

As a descendant of Willabella Muckwab, Hannah (as well as her older sister, Lex) was born with powers, also known as "the Gift." Her powers gave her a close connection to the Black and White, and even more so to Webby, who is not a Lord in Black, but is their sister. Webby is a spider-like goddess who embodies light and love, the antithesis of the Lords in Black. She is in a constant feud with them to gain control of the many realities, and to protect Hannah from her brothers and their minions, such as Wilbur Cross.

Now, Hannah's powers were stronger than anybody else's. She is clearly the strongest out of all the other children with a touch of the gift, and has been able to speak with Webby since she was young. I believe that this is a result of her being born at the moment that the divide between reality and The Black And White was weakest. Hannah is basically a cosmic trump card. Whoever controls Hannah controls the universe, so Webby and the Lords in Black are in a constant battle over her. The LiB want her dead, and Webby wants her alive, so that could mean that her power could be the thing to reconnect all the realities.

In present day, we have a couple of things playing out at once. Everybody's still in a competition over Hannah, with Lex determined to protect her. Miss Holloway uses her powers to help children, alongside Duke Keane, who she is falling in love with, and whose father was murdered by Wilbur Cross. Wilbur Cross does Wiggly's bidding. Some members or the Church of the Starry Children live on, those descended from or related to (by blood or marriage) the original members, and still indulge in the LiB's power and riches. Waylon Hall is cursed so that nothing may truly die there. As the Witchwood is cut down, little by little, its hold on Willabella weakens. And the Black Altars still remain, where anyone with the Black Book may summon the Lords in Black. In realities where Miss Holloway is murdered, the Black Book is kept safe by Solomon Lauter, mayor of Hatchetfield. Also, the Lords in a lack seem to have favourite humans to torture across multiple realities. The Spankoffski family is often a target of T'noy Karaxis, as an example.

So yup, that's where we're at. That's the baseline understanding of events that we as a fandom all seem to have, yet don't write down because that a lot of writing. Good thing I like writing!

Oh, and there's one thing I missed. We hate Clivesdale. Fuck Clivesdale.

#starkid #hatchetfield #team starkid #tgwdlm #lords in black #black friday #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #rant #long text #analysis #lore #webby hatchetfield #nmt #nightmare time 2 #nightmare time

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retiredteabag · 7 months ago

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An uninformed narrative

last part - pt. 2 - next part

Synopsis: You had lived in Stardew Valley for a year before you met the hunter from the adventures guild, Sukuna Itadori. It did not take long for him to catch your attention but you couldn't help feeling as if his affection resided anywhere but you.

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

This is a Sukuna stardew valley au, heavily inspired by @tearzintheclub's similar series with butcher!sukuna, I highly recommend reading their work, they are super kind and were a big motivation for me to make this!

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Damn it...damn it...damn-

After all the work you had put into your farm, into your skill set, into your friendships, the Dunning-Kruger effect had bitten you where it hurt. And you couldn't help but feel it was all your fault.

The pit in your stomach was sinking. How could you have let this happen? You had been so careful, you had even worn the armor you recently acquired from the guild. Was all this effort for nothing?

There were many thoughts swirling in your head as you frantically attempted to fend off the ghosts attacking you. You were encircled. Yes, the number was weening but so was your health, you knew you didn't have long. And the strongest feeling brewing in your heart was the shame that you had overestimating yourself.

The sword in your hand shook and your knees throbbed as you fell to the stone floor deep within the mines. Your vision was fading and even as you knew there was nothing left for you to win, you swung at the ghost coming your way, missing in your haste, and slump to the ground. Unmoving.

At least nobody would find you here...see you like this.....

-- several hours prior --

Life continued on as usual after joining the adventurers guild. The Stardew Valley Fair had just passed and after collecting your most prized items, you had won. Your heart had been full that night, not for your accomplishments, but for how loved you felt after a day of festivities with your friends.

You had sat and eaten with Penny and Leah, discussing life in the valley. You and Leah both had come to the Valley after living the city life but Penny had been born in Stardew, and that evening she had confessed her hope to one day travel away from town. The three of you decided that one day, you would adventure together.

Penny had cried.

Your heart was warm, watching Yuuji, Jas, and Vincent play in the apple-bobbing bucket and participate in slingshot games. Yuuji bounced up and down when he spotted you and his teacher, begging the two of you to come and play with them.

Life had felt whole.

Despite the labor that went into caring for your crops and animals, you had never felt so fulfilled.

Having just cracked level 50 in the mines that weekend, you grew excited when a day would come when you would have the chance to explore more of the depths.

It was not simply for personal gain, either. Though it was nice to have useful ore and pretty gemstones, you couldn't help but love feeling useful to your friends in town. Hunting the monsters below the surface was never too much work when it meant seeing their grateful faces.

Not too long after the town fair the forecast called for rain. Those days were designated for the awaiting mineshaft as you had little to do around the farm.

Back then, you had never thought it would cause this.

Night had fallen when you were found. It was dark, and relentlessly pouring rain, you could hear its aggressive pitter-patter on the ceiling of the cave.

You squeezed your eyes and tried to move but your body cried out against the stretch. You drew your hands down to the earth you were strewn upon. Your fingers traced the dirt below you.

Dirt?

Your eyes shot open. Heart beating as if you had never lost consciousness. Your vision and skull were pulsing painfully with the beats of your heart. You flung your head around dramatically.

You were within the face of the cave, you could just make out the Mountain Lake through the rain...

Your palm finds your forehead, and some kind of inhuman noise escapes you. Your brain was just starting to question how you moved up 55 levels when you opened your eyes again and saw him.

A man is squatting by your side, he looks... furious... to say the least.

Not expecting to see anything but a ghost in the case of your survival, you gasp. Shifting away from his all-too-close glower.

"Stay still you moron." He's gripping your shoulder with a hand, pulling you closer, you hadn't seen or felt it before, but he's got his other hand on your shin.

"Wha-what- how-who- I just-" Nicely said. Very eloquent.

He seems to scowl even more, despite not thinking it possible.

"Are you out of your mind?" His eyes glow red in the dark of the cavern. Though he has brought himself close to the ground in examining you, he is still a looming presence. "How can a damn farmer not have any food on them?"

"I just- I was" It was then that you realize who the man before you is. You had met him this past week, in the adventurers guild. The embarrassment you felt increased ten fold. "I had some...but-"

"What? You used it all and didn't think to head back? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He released his grip on your left calf and a fiery pain shoots up your leg. You gasp.

"No-!" You shake with the feeling.

"Sure looks like you are." The man shoulders his backpack to his front and starts searching for something.

Gratitude is the last thing on your mind. You're already ashamed enough but this man... this Sukuna was it? He was being unnecessarily rude.

He finally brings out a wad of cheese wrapped in parchment, and hands it to you.

"Eat. Your runnin' on fumes right now."

You huff but don't try to hide your desperation. Accepting the cheese and scarfing it down. Once it's settled in your stomach you feel much more alive. The pain in your calf is still very real but at least you have enough energy to make it home.

You push down at the ground, attempting to lift yourself but the weight on your leg causes a dramatic whimper to escape your throat. The pain was blinding. You'd have to see Harvey about this...

"What are ya doing?!" The tattooed man shoves your shoulders once more to keep you from rising.

"I'm trying- I need to get back..." You shake off his grip.

He laughs at you. But there's no smile on his face. It's cruel. "You really must be an idiot." Your brows furrow. "You aint walkin' on that leg." He points, and when you make no reply, he tugs up at the hem of your pants.

It's strange. He is the biggest, burliest man you've ever encountered, to countryman or city man alike, he is... quite large. He has a rough voice too, and a brutal look. Yet the touch he leaves on your ankle as he relives its weight, sliding the pantleg up, is as clement as a kitten.

This gentle juxtaposition throws you and it takes a moment for you to realize his intention to show you the blackened bruise that covers your left leg, ankle to shin. All air leaves you.

"You were fully out by the time I got down there. You're lucky most beasts here aint hungry for human flesh." He tucks your pant leg into your sock, softly settling your leg onto the ground once more.

You stare at his bent form. "Well...I'm- Thank you, you didn't have to get me, but I appreciate it." He's making an incredulous face, insulted. "And-" You speak up, "for the cheese as well, I feel much better."

He scoffs- "Oh, I didn't have to? And I suppose I'm to just leave ya to die? Gimmie a break."

He's stood to his full height just then, as he makes his way to peer out of the cave entrance you roll your eyes. Mentally retracting your thanks.

"Picked a great day to be here. Real nice choice of weather." He's taking off his backpack, then his jacket.

"Well..." You huff, "I guess you can come down here whenever you please but I'm busy with the farm when it's not raining, so actually today was ideal weather." You cross your arms, annoyed. Then work yourself up to try and stand once more.

"Oh yea?" He shuffles in his bag again, "Well I'd imagine if you were so busy with farm work you wouldn't come down here without some food to sustain your travel." He looks at your wobbling form now, and hisses between his teeth, dropping his bag.

"What the hell is wrong with you??!" His voice is frightening, and your eyes shake as you watch him stomp your way. "Couldn't wait one second, huh?"

"I need to get home, it's almost midnight..." You were starting to get fed up with his attitude. He's rolling his eyes and scoffing as if you've done something wrong.

But then he does something strange. He's grunts, squatting right beside you, but he's turned now, his broad back in your face.

"What... are you doing?" You squint at him.

"Thought you needed to get home." He turns to look at you, "Are you suddenly getting patient now?"

"What? No! I can do it myself!" As you say it you become more sure of yourself. There is no way you are letting this pompous prick carry you all the way to the farmhouse.

This time he sounds as if his laugh might be a bit more genuine. "Don't-make-me-laugh." His voice is mean and he turns to face you. "You're dumber than I thought if you're gonna try and walk home on that," he points to your leg, "in this." He directs his finger to the cave entrance, illuding to the downpour outside.

You grit your teeth. Almost wanting to swing at him. "Fine. Carry me then. Since I'm clearly incapable." Some part of your presumes he'll leave you here to fend for yourself. But he just frowns.

Disbelief covers his brows. "S'what I was trying to do from the start." His voice is low, and he turns once more, one arm pulls your own over his right shoulder, the other cradles your wounded leg.

"I'm gonna pull. Don't hoist yourself."

It's annoying. How prominent his lats and lower traps are. He lifts you, his right hand locked on your forearm, holding it to his chest. Now that he has risen, he uses his other arm to swing your left leg across his hip, allowing you to find a comfortable position as his new backpack.

There was a strain in your body as he had lifted you, but still, you're shocked by how effortless he made it look.

Too afraid to make a noise for fear of something stupid like "wow" coming out, you hold tight in silence as he bends down to grab his jacket. As he swings it across your form, the zipper hits your temple.

"Ow!" You grumble in his ear and he chuckles.

Bastard.

He bends once more to grab his bag and with it in hand, starts off through the mountains.

You never asked for his jacket. And you wouldn't have either. But you do feel a little bad that he is getting soaked while your clothes remain almost perfectly dry.

You swing your elbow onto his shoulder and bring your hand to the top of his head to block the rain.

"Enough of that." He swats away your hovering hand, "M' not made of sugar."

"Could've fooled me." You mumble

He reaches up to you with an open hand, finds your head with precision, and promptly flicks your skull with a firm finger.

"Ow!" You whine, tearing his hand from your forehead and tugging his ear like a grandma.

It's silent for a while as he treks past the carpenter's house, and into the path behind the bus station. "I'm just down here." You point. Trying to avoid the awkward silence.

"I know where the farm is." He motions your hand away once more.

Okay. You grit your teeth. Why can he not just be friendly like everyone else in this town?

When you begin to see the lights of your house, your heart starts to pulse. Are you supposed to invite him in? Is he going to lay you in bed? Your mind spins.

Before stomping up your porch steps, he grabs a large stick that your dog undoubtably has been carrying around and leans it against your door. "You good to be dropped off here? Or d'ya need me to tuck you in too?"

Little. Brat.

"I think I'll fair just fine like this." You force out. An attempt at cordiality.

"Alright then." He reaches around, gripping the small of your back, and gently lowers you to a stack of logs you keep for winter. Not allowing you to swing down and fall.

A small part of you wants to thank him. Was he an annoying git? Yes. But he didn't need to go to all the trouble to carry you home. Even so, his irritating remarks still float in your recent memory, so instead of a 'thank you', you say,

"The town is that way!" Pointing to the path he had walked past. His back had turned from you and continued south.

He turns around only for a moment.

"I'm well aware. I've lived here a'lot longer than you." He turns once more, making his way down to the forest.

"That's the way to the CIdersap Forest though?" You shout after him over the roars of the wind.

"Really?" He yells over the storm, not turning back, but moving slowly, "Didn't know."

"Well...." You lean on the stick he brought you to stand, "Where are you headed, it's nearly morning!"

The man turns one last time a grimace on his face. "I live in the Cidersap Forest."

His words permeated your brain now that he's gone from your vision. How could that be? That's where Marnie, Leah, and Jin lived. Could it be that there was a place you hadn't encountered in your year at the Village? Maybe so, seeing as you had only met the Hunter this past week.

The events of the night weighed on your shoulders as you limped into your house, gently closing the door. Your dog was wagging its tail, laying in bed, waiting for you.

It wasn't until you were about to flop on your bed that you realized: he had left you his jacket.

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ghstyles · 1 month ago

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Firsts | FWFW extra

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WC: 5.2k

Summary: Harry and Y/N discuss the time they lost. They touch on ‘firsts’ they experienced, and Harry is upset he wasn’t there

Based on this ask

FWFW Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The evening had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the way it often did these days. Three months into their reconciliation, Harry and Y/N had developed routines that felt at once new and achingly familiar. It was as though they were remembering rather than creating them.

Tonight found them in the library of their London home, a fire crackling in the hearth to ward off the November chill. Harry lounged on one end of the oversized leather sofa, his long legs stretched out before him, a half-empty glass of whiskey balanced on his knee. Y/N sat at the opposite end, her feet tucked beneath her, nursing a glass of red wine.

They'd been trading stories for the past hour, filling in the blanks of the decade they'd spent apart. It had started innocently enough with Harry recounting an early tour disaster involving a broken guitar string and an overzealous fan, Y/N sharing anecdotes about the various odd jobs she'd worked to support her family after her father's death.

As the night wore on and the drinks lowered their usual guards, the conversation had turned more personal, more vulnerable.

"Do you remember that summer when we were sixteen?" Y/N asked, swirling the remaining wine in her glass. "When your family rented the house by the lake?"

Harry's expression softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Course I do. That was the summer I taught you to swim properly."

Y/N laughed, the sound warm with memory. "You were such a show-off, diving off those rocks."

"Only because I wanted to impress you," Harry admitted, his gaze fond as it rested on her face. "Did it work?"

"Maybe a little," Y/N conceded with a smile. "Though I was more impressed when you stood up to those boys who were bothering me at the village festival."

Harry's expression darkened slightly at the memory. "Wankers," he muttered, taking a sip of his whiskey. "I wanted to do more than just tell them off."

"My hero," Y/N teased gently, reaching across to squeeze his ankle where it rested near her hip. "Even then."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the occasional pop and crackle of the fire. Harry seemed lost in thought, his thumb absently tracing the rim of his glass.

"I thought about you," he said suddenly, his voice quieter than before. "After that summer. After my mother made sure we never returned to that house."

Y/N's heart squeezed at the admission. "I thought about you too," she confessed. "I kept expecting to see you the next summer, and the next. I didn't understand why you never came back."

Harry's jaw tightened, the familiar tension that always appeared when his mother was mentioned. "She knew I liked you. Said you were...a distraction. That I needed to focus on my future, not waste time with 'some village girl.'"

The bitterness in his voice was palpable, even after all these years.

"It wasn't just that summer, you know," Harry continued after a moment, his gaze fixed on the fire rather than her face. "I thought about you during all the big moments. My first major award, the first time I played Wembley...even stupid things, like the first time I got properly drunk or when I got my first tattoo."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, imagining a younger Harry carrying thoughts of her through the milestones of his extraordinary life.

"I wondered if you were watching," he admitted softly. "If you ever saw me on TV or in a magazine and thought about that summer too."

"I did," Y/N assured him, setting her wine glass on the coffee table so she could move closer to him on the sofa. "I saw everything. Your first album, that ridiculous haircut you had in 2014..."

Harry laughed, the sound breaking some of the tension that had built between them. "Hey, that hair was iconic," he protested, reaching out to tug gently on a strand of her own hair. "But seriously...you kept track of me?"

Y/N nodded, settling against his side as his arm came around her shoulders. "How could I not? You were everywhere. And then suddenly you were this massive star, and I was just..."

"Just what?" Harry prompted when she trailed off.

Y/N shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Just the girl who used to know you. Before."

Harry's arm tightened around her, pulling her more firmly against him. "You were never 'just' anything to me," he said firmly. "Even when I was being a total prick to you during those first months of our arrangement."

Y/N smiled against his shoulder, recognizing the apology wrapped in his words. "You had your moments," she acknowledged lightly.

They settled into another comfortable silence, Harry's fingers idly playing with the ends of her hair. The fire had died down slightly, casting the room in a soft, golden glow that made everything feel slightly dreamlike.

"What about your first?" Harry asked suddenly, the question seeming to surprise even him as it left his mouth.

Y/N lifted her head from his shoulder, brow furrowed in confusion. "My first what?"

A faint flush colored Harry's cheeks, visible even in the dim light. "Your first time," he clarified, his voice carefully neutral despite the intensity that had appeared in his eyes. "You never told me about that."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change in topic. "Oh," she said, sitting up slightly. "Um, it was nothing special, really. I was nineteen, at university. His name was David and he was in my English literature course."

Something flickered across Harry's face. A tightening around his eyes, a slight clench of his jaw.

"Was he..." Harry began, then seemed to reconsider his words. "Were you together long?"

Y/N shook her head, increasingly aware of the tension radiating from Harry's body beside her. "A few months. He transferred to another university the following term."

Harry nodded, his expression still carefully controlled. "And after him?"

Y/N studied his face, beginning to understand the direction of his thoughts. "There were a few others," she admitted quietly. "Nothing serious. No one that lasted."

Harry's gaze dropped to his glass, his thumb resuming its restless circuit around the rim. "Right," he said, his voice slightly rougher than before. "Course there were."

Recognizing the hurt beneath his attempt at nonchalance, Y/N reached out to take the glass from his hand, setting it beside her wine on the coffee table before turning back to face him fully.

"Harry," she said gently, waiting until he looked at her. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture she'd come to recognize as a sign of discomfort or frustration.

"It's stupid," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"Tell me anyway," Y/N encouraged, placing a hand on his knee.

Harry was quiet for a long moment, his internal struggle visible in the furrow of his brow. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reluctant.

"I just...I hate that I missed it," he admitted. "That someone else was your first. That I wasn't there."

The raw honesty in his voice made Y/N's heart ache. She moved closer, taking his hand in both of hers.

"Harry..."

"I know it's ridiculous," he continued, the words coming faster now. "I know it doesn't matter. I've been with other people too obviously. But sometimes I think about all those years we lost, all the firsts we could have had together, and it just..."

He trailed off, shaking his head as though frustrated by his inability to articulate the feeling.

"It hurts," Y/N finished for him softly.

Harry nodded, finally meeting her gaze. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "It fucking hurts."

Y/N shifted to straddle his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, bringing their faces level. She cradled his face in her hands, thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice firm despite its softness. "Those people, David, the others, they weren't you. They were just...placeholders. Attempts to find something that felt half as real as what I felt with you during that one summer when we were sixteen."

Harry's hands came to rest on her waist, his grip tightening slightly at her words.

"Every relationship I had failed because none of them were you," Y/N continued, her gaze steady on his. "None of them made me feel the way you did, the way you do. They were first in chronology only, Harry. They were never first in my heart."

A flash of vulnerability crossed Harry's face, so raw and honest that it nearly took Y/N's breath away.

"Really?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. "Really," she confirmed. "And as for all that lost time..."

She pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze directly. "We have now," she reminded him. "We have tomorrow, and next week, and next year. We have all the time in the world to make new firsts together."

The tension in Harry's body began to ease, his hands sliding around to the small of her back, drawing her closer against him.

"What kind of firsts did you have in mind?" he asked, a hint of his usual playfulness returning to his voice.

Y/N smiled, relieved to see the darkness lifting from his expression. "Well, we've never been to Paris together," she suggested. "Or gone skiing. Or ran a marathon."

Harry's lips curved into a smile, his thumbs tracing small circles at the base of her spine. "Those all sound good," he agreed. "What about more immediate firsts?"

His meaning was clear in the sudden heat of his gaze, the slight shift of his body beneath hers. Y/N felt an answering warmth bloom low in her belly.

"I'm listening," she murmured, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Harry's smile turned wicked, his hands moving to cup her hips more firmly. "We've never made love in this library," he pointed out, his voice dropping to a register that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "Seems like an oversight."

Y/N pretended to consider this, though her racing pulse betrayed her affected nonchalance. "The sofa is rather comfortable," she acknowledged.

"And the door locks," Harry added, his thumbs now slipping beneath the hem of her sweater to find the warm skin beneath.

Y/N leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "And I've never had sex in front of a fireplace before."

A low groan escaped Harry's throat, his hands tightening on her waist. "Now that," he said, his voice rough with desire, "is a first I'd very much like to remedy."

Without warning, he stood, lifting Y/N with him as though she weighed nothing. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her the short distance to the plush rug in front of the hearth.

He laid her down with unexpected gentleness, the firelight casting golden highlights across her skin as he helped her out of her sweater. His own shirt followed, revealing the familiar landscape of tattoos across his chest and arms.

As Harry settled over her, his weight supported on his forearms, Y/N reached up to trace the line of his jaw with her fingertips.

"I love you," she told him softly, the words still new enough to send a thrill through her when she said them. "Past, present, and future. All of it. Every version of you."

Something fierce and tender flashed in Harry's eyes as he bent to capture her lips in a kiss that spoke of possession, protection, and profound love.

"You're mine now," he murmured against her mouth, his hand sliding down to grip her thigh, hitching it higher against his hip. "And I'm yours. And I plan to make up for every second of those ten years we lost."

Y/N arched beneath him as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Starting now?" she gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

Harry lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as they met hers. "Starting now," he confirmed, his voice a low growl that promised delicious things to come. "And I'm going to take my fucking time about it."

As his mouth descended to her collarbone, then lower still, Y/N surrendered to the exquisite sensation of being thoroughly, completely loved by the man who had always held her heart, even during the years they'd spent apart.

Lost time could never be reclaimed, but new memories could be created—first upon first, moment upon moment, building a future together that would render the past nothing more than prologue to their real story.

And as Harry's talented mouth and hands drew gasps and then cries from her lips, Y/N knew with absolute certainty that their best firsts were still ahead of them.

---

Later, much later, they lay tangled together on the rug, a throw blanket hastily pulled from the sofa draped across their cooling bodies. The fire had burned down to embers, casting the room in a soft, red glow that made Harry's skin look like burnished gold where it pressed against hers.

His head rested on her chest, her fingers lazily combing through his tousled hair as their breathing gradually slowed to normal.

"That was definitely a first," Y/N murmured, amusement coloring her voice. "I don't think I've ever...quite like that..."

Harry chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Told you I'd make it memorable," he said, pressing a kiss to the curve of her breast.

"Mmm, mission accomplished," Y/N assured him, stretching languidly beneath him. "Though I may never look at this library the same way again."

Harry propped himself up on one elbow, his expression smug as he surveyed the evidence of their passion. Clothing scattered across the rug, the cushions from the sofa knocked to the floor, and Y/N's wine glass miraculously still upright but entirely forgotten.

"Good," he said with satisfaction. "That was the plan."

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress her smile. "You're ridiculous."

"You love it," Harry countered, bending to steal another kiss.

"I do," Y/N agreed when they parted, her tone more serious. "I love all of you”

Something vulnerable flickered in Harry's eyes, a glimpse of the insecurity that had sparked their earlier conversation.

"Even though I wasn't your first?" he asked, his attempt at a light tone not quite masking the genuine question beneath.

Y/N reached up to cup his face, making sure he was looking directly at her when she replied. "You're my last," she told him firmly. "That's what matters."

The tension in Harry's expression eased, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Your last," he repeated, as though testing the weight of the words. "I like the sound of that."

Y/N smiled back, her thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip. "Besides," she added with deliberate lightness, "we have plenty of firsts still ahead of us."

"Like what?" Harry asked, settling back down beside her, his arm draped possessively across her waist.

Y/N pretended to consider, her fingers trailing along the tattoos on his forearm. "Well, there's our first Christmas together, properly together, I mean."

Harry nodded, his expression warming at the thought. "I've already got your gift," he admitted. "Been planning it for weeks."

“Harry...it's March,” Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "No hints?"

"Not a chance," Harry replied with a grin. "You'll just have to wait."

Y/N made a face at him, then continued her list. "There's our first anniversary, of this, I mean. Us being real."

"Three months down," Harry noted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Lifetime to go."

The casual certainty with which he spoke of their future sent a warm glow spreading through Y/N's chest.

"Our first vacation together," she continued softly. "Our first home that we choose together, rather than just me moving into yours."

Harry's eyes brightened at that. "We could start looking," he suggested, his enthusiasm evident. "Something that's ours from the beginning."

Y/N smiled, touched by his eagerness. "I'd like that," she told him.

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the occasional pop from the dying fire. Harry's hand had begun a slow, absent-minded caress along her side, from ribs to hip and back again.

"You know," he said after a while, his voice thoughtful, "when I think about it now, maybe it's better this way."

Y/N turned her head to look at him, curious. "What do you mean?"

Harry shifted slightly, propping himself up again so he could see her face properly. "If we'd been each other's firsts back then, if we'd never lost those years, we might not appreciate what we have now as much."

Y/N considered this, surprised by the insight. "That's...actually quite profound," she acknowledged.

Harry's lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile. "Don't sound so shocked," he chided gently. "I do occasionally have deep thoughts."

Y/N laughed, stretching up to kiss the underside of his jaw. "I know you do," she assured him. "And you might be right. Maybe we needed those years apart to become the people who could make this work."

Harry nodded, his expression turning serious again. "I know I did," he admitted. "I was a mess after my first album took off. Arrogant, selfish...I wouldn't have been good for you then."

"And I was too lost after my father died," Y/N confessed quietly. "Too focused on taking care of my family to have anything left for anyone else."

Harry's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining on the blanket between them. "So maybe the timing is perfect," he suggested. "Maybe now is exactly when we were meant to find our way back to each other."

Y/N squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of rightness settle over her. "I think you might be right," she agreed softly. "Though I still wish..."

"What?" Harry prompted when she trailed off.

Y/N sighed, a wistful smile touching her lips. "I still wish I could have seen you perform for the first time," she admitted. "Your very first show. I bet you were terrified."

Harry laughed, the sound rich with memory. "Absolutely bricking it," he confirmed. "My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the microphone."

"I wish I'd been there," Y/N said, her tone tinged with regret.

Harry studied her face for a moment, then sat up abruptly, the blanket pooling around his waist. "Wait here," he instructed, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before standing.

Y/N watched in bemusement as he crossed the room naked, disappearing through the library door. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, then the distant sound of a drawer opening and closing.

A few minutes later he returned, a small black device in his hand. As he settled back beside her on the rug, Y/N recognized it as a portable hard drive.

"What's this?" she asked, sitting up and pulling the blanket around her shoulders.

Harry held up the drive, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "I have videos," he explained. "From the early days. My mum filmed a lot of it, and then the label had people documenting everything once we started getting attention."

Y/N's eyes widened in understanding. "Including your first performance?"

Harry nodded, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Including that," he confirmed. "And a lot of other firsts. First TV appearance, first award show, first stadium concert..."

He held out the drive to her, his expression suddenly vulnerable despite his earlier confidence. "I want you to see them," he told her quietly. "All of them. If you want to."

Y/N took the drive, cradling it in her palm as though it were infinitely precious—which, in many ways, it was. A record of all the moments she'd missed, offered now as a gift to bridge the gap of those lost years.

"Harry," she breathed, looking up at him with eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. "I don't know what to say."

He shrugged, though the casualness of the gesture was belied by the intensity in his gaze. "Say you'll watch them with me," he suggested. "Tomorrow night, maybe. We can order in, make a proper evening of it."

Y/N nodded, too moved to speak for a moment. When she found her voice again, it was thick with emotion. "I'd love that," she told him. "Thank you."

Harry's smile was soft, almost shy. "I want to share it all with you," he said simply. "Even the parts you couldn't be there for."

Y/N leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips that conveyed all the love and gratitude she couldn't quite put into words. When they parted, she brushed her thumb along his cheekbone, marveling at the man before her. So different from the boy she'd known, yet somehow still the same in all the ways that mattered.

"I love you," she told him, the words feeling both familiar and new each time she said them. "

Harry's arms came around her, pulling her against his chest as he lay back on the rug, bringing her with him. "And I love all of you," he murmured against her hair. "Yesterday, today, and every tomorrow we have coming."

As they lay together in the dying firelight, the hard drive safely set aside on the coffee table, Y/N felt the last lingering shadows of their time apart begin to recede. They couldn't reclaim the past, but they could share it with each other. It wasn't perfect. It was better than that.

It was real.

Harry's expression had just begun to settle into contentment when Y/N shifted against him, propping herself up slightly to look at his face. Something in her eyes, a mixture of shyness and mischief, caught his attention immediately.

"What?" he asked, his lips curving into a curious smile. "You've got that look."

"What look?" Y/N countered, feigning innocence despite the telltale flush creeping up her cheeks.

Harry reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her skin. "The one that says you're about to either tell me something important or completely upend my world," he explained, his tone light but his eyes attentive. "Possibly both."

Y/N bit her lower lip, hesitating for a moment before she spoke.

"I was just thinking," she began, her fingers tracing abstract patterns on his chest, following the lines of his tattoos, "if it makes you feel any better about all those firsts we missed..."

She paused, meeting his gaze with a softness that made his breath catch.

"That day in the woods, right before you left for good. Remember that?"

A shadow of recognition passed over Harry's face, followed by something warmer, more intimate.

"Course I do," he said quietly, his hand coming up to cover hers where it rested against his heart. "Last day of summer. I snuck away from that ridiculous garden party my mum made me attend."

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing at her lips at the accuracy of his memory. "You wore that blue button-up shirt your mother insisted on, but you'd rolled the sleeves up and undone the top buttons the minute you were out of her sight."

Harry chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly beneath her palm. "Bloody thing was choking me," he recalled. "And it was so hot that day."

"It was," Y/N agreed, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she traveled back to that August afternoon. "We went to that clearing by the old oak tree. The one with the rope swing."

"Where you always refused to go higher than the second knot," Harry teased gently, his thumb stroking across her knuckles.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her smile remained. "Some of us had a healthy respect for gravity, Harold."

His laugh was genuine this time, warming her from the inside out.

"We stayed out there for hours," she continued, her voice softening. "Just talking about nothing and everything. You told me your mum was making you go to some posh boarding school in the fall."

Harry's expression sobered slightly at the memory. "I didn't want to go," he admitted. "I begged her to let me stay at the local school, but she wouldn't hear of it."

"You were so angry," Y/N remembered. "I'd never seen you like that before."

Harry's jaw tightened briefly. "It wasn't just about the school," he confessed. "She'd told me that morning we wouldn't be coming back the next summer. That she'd found a 'more suitable' vacation spot in the South of France."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly. "You never told me that part."

"Didn't want to ruin our last day," Harry said with a small shrug that didn't quite disguise the old hurt. "Thought if I didn't say it out loud, maybe it wouldn't be real."

Y/N's heart ached for the sixteen-year-old boy he'd been, forced into a life he hadn't chosen, separated from the things, and people, that mattered to him.

"You looked so beautiful," Harry murmured, reaching up to cup her cheek. "The sun was setting behind you, turning your hair to gold, and I just...I couldn't help myself."

"You kissed me," Y/N whispered, turning her face slightly to press her lips against his palm. "Right there by the stream, with the crickets starting to sing and the fireflies just beginning to come out."

Harry's thumb brushed across her bottom lip, his eyes tracking the movement. "Best decision I ever made," he said softly.

Y/N met his gaze steadily, her heart racing as she prepared to share the piece of herself she'd kept tucked away all these years.

"It was my first," she told him quietly. "My first kiss, Harry."

For a moment, Harry went completely still, his eyes widening fractionally as her words registered.

"What?" he breathed, searching her face as though looking for confirmation that he'd heard her correctly.

Y/N nodded, a shy smile curving her lips. "You were my first kiss," she repeated. "I'd never kissed anyone before that moment."

A complex mix of emotions flickered across Harry's face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, sitting up slightly, bringing them even closer together. "I would have—I don't know, made it more special or something."

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head at his concern. "It was already perfect," she assured him, reaching up to smooth the furrow from his brow. "You were perfect."

Harry caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm that made her breath catch.

"I had no idea," he said, his voice tinged with wonder. "I thought—I assumed you must have kissed other boys before me."

Y/N shook her head again. "There was only you," she told him softly. "I was shy, remember? And none of the boys at school made me feel the way you did."

Something fierce and tender flashed in Harry's eyes at her admission.

"So I was your first," he said, a note of satisfaction entering his voice as he pulled her closer, until she was practically in his lap, the blanket slipping to pool around their waists.

"You were my first," Y/N confirmed, her arms sliding around his neck. "And if things had been different—if your mother hadn't taken you away, if we'd had the chance..."

She didn't need to finish the thought. The understanding that passed between them was perfect and complete.

"You would have been my only," Harry murmured, completing her unspoken sentence. "My first and my last."

Y/N nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to speak around the lump in her throat.

Harry drew her impossibly closer, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them.

"I didn't know," he said again, his voice rough with emotion. "That day, that kiss, it meant everything to me. But knowing I was your first..."

He trailed off, clearly struggling to articulate the depth of what he was feeling.

"Does it help?" Y/N asked softly, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Knowing you were the first person to kiss me?"

Harry pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his green eyes dark and serious. "It shouldn't matter," he admitted. "It's ridiculous that it does. But..."

"But it does," Y/N finished for him, understanding completely.

Harry nodded, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah," he agreed. "It does."

His hand came up to cup the back of her head, drawing her in for a kiss that was at once achingly tender and possessively claiming. When they parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against hers once more.

"You were fifteen," he murmured, a hint of teasing entering his voice. "Practically ancient for a first kiss."

Y/N laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder. "Excuse me for having standards," she retorted.

Harry's answering laugh was warm against her skin. "High standards," he agreed, his hands sliding down to her waist. "The highest."

"I was waiting for someone worth waiting for," Y/N told him, her tone light but her words utterly sincere.

Something in Harry's expression shifted, the teasing fading into something more profound.

"Thank you for telling me," he said quietly, brushing a soft kiss against her temple. "It means more than you know."

Y/N nodded, understanding the complex tangle of emotions behind his simple words. The pride, the possessiveness, the bittersweet joy of knowing he'd been her first in at least one significant way.

"I wanted you to know," she told him softly. "That even though we lost all those years, even though there were others after you...you were still my first. The one that mattered most."

Harry's arms tightened around her, his face buried in the curve of her neck. For a moment, they simply held each other, the weight of the past and the promise of the future suspended between them.

"I love you," Harry murmured against her skin, the words simple but weighted with everything he felt for her. "I think I've loved you since that day by the stream."

Y/N's hand came up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers gentle in his hair. "I love you too," she whispered. "I always have."

As they sank back down onto the rug, their bodies entwining with renewed purpose, Y/Nx knew that this, what they shared now, was worth every moment of waiting, every heartache of separation. They might have missed some firsts, but the ones they'd shared had shaped them both in ways neither could fully articulate.

And as Harry's lips found hers again, she knew with absolute certainty that the best firsts, their firsts, together, were still to come.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

Taglist: @mysunflowerposts @lydiasfalling @panini @ell0ra-br3kk3r @donutsandpalmtrees @sunshinemoonsposts @angeldavis777 @fangirl509east @maudie-duan @indierockgirrl @harryssunflower17 @lizsogolden @daphnesutton @spinninc @behindmygreyeyes @wheredidmyeyesgo @matildasatellite @drewrry @inlikea-coolway @jerseygirlinca @nosebeers

#ghstyles #fwfw #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic

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zengguos · 14 days ago

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again, I'm thinking about how laura lee may have intentionally drowned lottie in the lake because having a near death experience is how she got her faith, how she thought god was real and that was a way of communicating with her which she obviously told lottie when she said she had an idea.

how that has basically carried on in lottie's consciousness, that death is a way of communicating with these godly deities, basically the wilderness with the hunts and spilling blood (thanks to laura lee helping her base those thoughts into reality). how she keeps remembering laura lee in all these deadly experiences she goes through from her perspective guiding her again throughout every one (all going back to that lake scene making everything full circle for lottie and laura lee's joint doom).

laura lee was the first person that lottie had ever felt truly close with, the first person that listened to lottie and accepted lottie as who she is regardless of what happened. she looked after lottie, gave lottie a voice. "saved" lottie from herself countless times already — the possession scene, the baptism scene, the moment she tells her she has a gift. those are all altering moments for lottie and laura lee is at the center of them.

lottie has basically personally sanctified laura lee through her own perception of the wilderness too — trying to reach out to her when things get too intense and she is lost. in her most emotionally vulnerable moments laura lee is always there, even if she is not actively hallucinating laura lee, she is still wearing her dress/takes it with her everywhere. laura lee's comfort is constantly with her.

and honestly it may be a continuity error in the script when laura lee isn't mentioned in the 3x01 festives, but with almost how depressive she was at the doomcoming about laura lee while everyone didn't care as much as her and the way lottie hoards the last physical objects of laura lee to herself, for example not allowing anyone to wear her dress. it makes sense she may just be keeping the memory and life of laura lee to herself, that she doesn't want anything or anyone else, or the actions they have done in the wilderness after her death to taint the saintly saviour image laura lee is in her mind compared how everyone else had saw her...

ugh, I can't stop thinking about them.

#yellowjackets #lottie matthews #laura lee #lottielee

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lotuzies · 3 months ago

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VAMPIRE REALITY 𖥔 pinterest tour

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ hello! you were just now invited to come and take a look into the reality where blood tainted fangs are more than just a myth. where one's biggest nightmare is another's purest love.

note: this is much better viewed in light mode

── .✦ overview :

O1. louise 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ let's start with the basics, the star of the show — me! louise virelli-sanguis, daughter of lord lucien & lady seraphina of valora. my enchanting, almost hypnotic beauty is enough to strike through anyone's heart. now, talking about the actual face claim (@/lavbackpack on ig), she was the perfect choice! we are actually quite similar in terms of our features, so i felt like it wasn't too big of a change.

O2. boyf 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ ultimate heartthrob, park sunghoon, the famous figure skater of the human kind. we met at a festival held in virethia, my birthplace, where the bond and harmony between vampires and humans is celebrated. he was wandering around, presumably lost, until he stumbled into me. love at first sight never felt so real, so right.

O3. poki 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ my child. pets are common between vampires, such as black cats, owls or even bats. most black cats living in virethia are the ones neglected in the human world, that's why they're most of the feline population here. poki, the one gifted to me around 150 years ago, has been my trusted companion ever since.

O4. closet 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ obviously, i am entitled to the best (and biggest) selection of clothes. cutesy outfits in dark color schemes for casual outings, grand show-stopper beautiful dresses for important ceremonies or parties, silk pajamas for a feather-like sleep and statement accessories for some spice.

O5. weapons 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ some of the vampiric population volunteers to go on certain missions on the other side to ensure virethia's safety (and wealth). due majorly to boredom and lots of convincing from my friends, i decided to join this group of people. obviously, i don't own all of those weapons — as i prefer scythes and sickles — but the pictures are an illustration of the most commonly used ones by my teammates.

O6. belongings 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ things one would definitely find if spent enough time rummaging through my bedroom. lots of make up, books and my diary, fuzzy stuffed animals, accessories, candles, perfume bottles... all things you'd expect a cliché teenage girl to own.

O7. valora 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ valora, the land ruled by house sanguis is, for me, synonym of home. the most populated town, city of innovation, where the founders of virethia once resided. it's a gleaming city, really, bustling markets, massive factories, the oldest of monumental structures and wonderful workshops where revolutionary ideas come to life. think something close to... dark london streets.

O8. elysium 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ the true beauty of virethia is the foundation of elysium, land ruled by house caelum. elymians are known to value art in its every form, such as painting, sculpting, philosophy, etc. ethereal gardens, opulent palaces, art galleries and libraries here and there, all places any artist could gather inspiration from. very similar to the streets of rome.

O9. noctis 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⊹ the eery land of noctis, ruled by house mortis, also popularly known as "the scary ones". full of secrecy involving everything about dark and sometimes forbidden magic, it's landscapes are the closest to what humans mostly assume as the place vampires would live — towering black spires, haunted forests and shadowy lakes accentuated with a thick and misty atmosphere.

── .✦ final notes : i love love loooove this reality with all my heart!!! and even though it was a pain in the ass having to use my laptop to make this post (stupid photo limit), i still really enjoyed this whole process. let me know if u want me to make my pinterest boards public if u need inspo/visuals for a similar dr (this is still a wip tho, i'll def add more pins and sections in the future). anyways, thank u if u reached this far! byebye & go shift ! ><

#.☘︎ ݁˖ izzy (vampire version) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #.☘︎ ݁˖ izzy's realities ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #shiftblr #shifting #shifting motivation #shifting moots #law of assumption #loassumption #shifting blog #shifting community #loa #desired reality #shifting tips #shifting script #kpop shifting #shiftingrealities #reality shifting #shifters #shifting consciousness

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xi4oyan · 2 months ago

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Stolen Kiss in the Plum Blossom Field

Plum blossoms fell like a delicate rain of soft pink snow. Each petal spun lazily in the air, playing with the breeze before settling on the ground, which was covered in a carpet of moss and dry leaves. The field stretched wide, hidden between quiet hills, and the sky—painted in shades of lavender and gold—looked like a vast sheet stretched across the rooftops of the world.

The scent of plum flowers was sweet and slightly tangy, blending with the earthy smell of damp soil and fresh ink. Insects buzzed in the distance, sluggish beneath the warm touch of the afternoon. The twisted dark trunks of the trees cast uneven shadows on the ground, and small paper lanterns—leftover from some past festival—still hung from lower branches, sun-faded and gently swaying in the wind.

You were sitting beneath one of the oldest trees, its wide trunk leaning behind your back like a quiet guardian. Your pale pink dress spilled over the grass like liquid silk. The wide sleeves were stained with splashes of paint—blue, burnt red, a trace of gold. So were your fingers, as if they were mere extensions of the brush. Beside you lay the painting: a generous sheet of rice paper held down by small stones, where brushstrokes had captured the image of a lone figure atop a mountain, wrapped in spiraling clouds and blooming plum trees.

The soft sound of footsteps over the leaves made you lift your gaze.

Wukong stepped out from between the branches, barefoot and silent. His crimson robe looked darker beneath the fading light, and the golden threads woven into his outfit shimmered like quiet embers. His red sash hung loose over one shoulder, and a blossom had landed in his unruly hair. He paused before your painting, and for a moment, the world seemed to hush in reverence.

"My little living masterpiece," he said, lifting the painting with almost reverent care. His voice was low, as if he didn’t want to break the enchantment of the place.

You smiled, shyly, trying to clean the paint from your fingers with a cloth already stained. But he didn’t look at your hands. His golden eyes were fixed on your face, on the lash brushed by a stray petal, on the corner of your mouth where a shadow of a smile still lingered.

"Did you like it?" you asked, your voice barely louder than the rustle of blossoms and the faint hum of wind weaving through high branches.

He didn’t answer right away. He came closer, lowering himself until his knees sank into the moss. His face moved toward yours slowly, as if it were part of the field itself, and when his nose brushed against yours, even the air seemed to hold its breath.

The kiss came without warning.

Soft. Barely there. Just the touch of lips, like a flower landing on the surface of a still lake. A shiver passed through your skin—not from cold, but from something deeper that stirred and stretched inside your chest, warm, quiet, and inevitable.

When he pulled back, his eyes held a mischievous sparkle, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. The petals continued to fall around you, some landing on his shoulders, others in your lap, and it all seemed part of a greater painting—one no brush could fully capture.

"Was that… a reward for the painting?" you asked, voice trembling between surprise and sweetness.

"Hm… maybe," he replied, still kneeling before you. "Or maybe because I couldn’t wait any longer." His gaze roamed your face, as if memorizing every detail. "You look so beautiful when you’re lost in your brushes… like you’re painting the world just for me."

You looked at him—this mischievous god who smelled of sunlight and flowers—and laughed softly, shyly. With your paint-stained fingers, you touched his cheek, leaving a small blue smudge high on his cheekbone.

"Now it’s perfect."

He feigned offense, a quiet laugh escaping him, but didn’t move away. He only leaned in again, his nose brushing yours, eyes closed in a silent promise.

And there, beneath the plum trees that kept shedding blossoms like blessings from the sky, the two of you remained—two quiet souls caught in the middle of time, keeping the secret of a first kiss between color, fragrance, and eternal spring.

#sun wukong #lmk x reader #sun wukong x reader #wukong x reader #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong x y/n #journey to the west x reader #jttw sun wukong x reader #wukong #jttw sun wukong #black myth wukong x reader #wukong x y/n

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amutamika · 3 months ago

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Shang Qinghua had spend a week producing and perfecting the talisman that now concealed Mobei Jun‘s demonic features and also made it nearly impossible for anyone else to remember his features after they passed on by. All this trouble just so his sect siblings wouldn’t ask so many questions if they happened to see them walking together through the bustling streets of a nearby town during the summer festival.

Neither Mobei Jun nor Shang Qinghua liked crowded places like this, but they both had wanted to visit the festival. Shang Qinghua wanted to show Mobei Jun around and give him the full experience of humans. He wanted to show him more than just his little room. On the other hand, Mobei Jun wanted to take Shang Qinghua on a date. He had heard that dates were something humans liked, even though he wasn‘t quite sure what exactly made a date different from a normal meeting.

And now they were going side by side through the bustling streets. Both trying really hard to not lose the other in this crowd. Which was definitely easier for Shang Qinghua, with the ice demon prince being tall enough to spot him from afar even in this crowd. All around them were chatter and laughter, the street vendors calling to get the attention from passer-by’s, street performers singing, dancing an playing on instruments so that the cheerful people around them might be lured into opening their wallets. Every street was colourful and filled with the warm light of hundreds of lanterns, while the warm summer night slowly descended upon them turning the sky into an inky black, with thousands of little sparkles adorning it.

They had eaten spicy hot pot at one stand, savouring the hearty flavours while chatting about mundane things. It would have felt so incredibly normal if not for this glint in Mobei Jun‘s eyes, showing how exciting and new everything was for him. Shang Qinghua had nearly lost himself in those dark eyes, that usually were as still as a frozen lake but now gleamed with warmth and curiosity, on several occasion. And now they were walking side by side, close enough so that there body’s grazed each other itch every step. It made Shang Qinghua feel warm and giddy being so close to Mobei Jun.

They had become comfortable around each other, easing up and even starting to trust one another. Since this one mission where he had to till the field and help with repairs for a the better part of a whole moon, their relationship had changed. There weren‘t merely spy and king anymore. But that was a thing that happened long before that mission. And so Shang Qinghua was unsure what their relationship really was. Were they friends? Or maybe… He quickly abandoned that thought, banishing it to the back of his mind.

Mobei Jun had also felt the change. If it had been a weird and sometimes even unpleasant feeling having someone so close, Mobei Jun felt uneasy now when his spy wasn‘t by his side or if he hadn’t seen him for a while. He yearned for his touch, his smile, his laugh, his gently eyes, and his curly hair every time he had to leave An Ding Peak. The demon prince knew that those rising feelings were complicated, and that he shouldn’t indulge in them, but where was the harm as long as no one knew. Why shouldn’t he enjoy these sweet moments? Not even the recipient of his tender feelings knew about them, so why shouldn’t he indulge himself just a little?

“Wait a second,“ Shang Qinghua said and vanished from the demon prince‘s side without further explanation. Just to appear just as suddenly as he had left with two sticks of fruits covered in clear sugar in his hands. He handed on of the tanghulu to Mobei Jun with a smile. “Try this. It is incredibly delicious even though it is just fruits with extra sugar.“ Shang Qinghua had already stuffed his cheeks with a first bite. The hardened sugar glaze cracking under his teeth, letting the sweet and fresh fruit juice graze his taste buds. For a moment, he closed his eyes relishing in the mix of incredible sweetness and acidic freshness. Mobei Jun couldn‘t help looking at this smaller man‘s lips, that were glazed with sugar and fruit juice, tinted in a soft red. They looked even tastier than the tanghulu in his hands, these blush petals more enticing than the fresh berries on the stick. He instinctively leaned down a bit, drawn in by the soft curve of these plumb lips.

But as Shang Qinghua opened his eyes again, the magic was broken and he quickly straightened his back again, his ears flushed in a bright red. Luckily for him the shine of the lanterns hid the redness of his ears from the human man. Needing to distract his mind he bit into the tanghulu in his hand. It was really tasty. But he couldn’t enjoy the taste as much as Shang Qinghua had done, his mind way to occupied with the question if the young mans mouth would have the same taste now, or if it was much sweeter and addicting than the sugar and the fruits.

„Shan Qinghua?“ a voice asked out of the crowed with confusion clearly noticeable in it. Shang Qinghua‘s face froze. They had actually been spotted by someone from his sect. Without thinking - and also forgetting that no one would recognise Mobei Jun - he grabbed the wrist of the demon next to him and bolted to a narrow alley not far from them. Dragging Mobei Jun behind him, he tried to escape from the voice that had now become quite a few. But just vanishing in a side alley didn‘t help because for some reason the voices perused them. Shang Qinghua ran with Mobei Jun in tow from one alley to the next, still holding his wrist tight in his hand, until he thought they had finally gotten rid of these pesky sect siblings of his.

He was out of breath and his chest was raising heavily, meanwhile Mobei Jun didn‘t seem affected at all. „Sorry… I panicked,“ he admitted with an awkward smile. “It‘s okay. I understand your fear of getting found out,“ Mobei Jun reassured him with a soft smile, countering the awkwardness of the smile across from him. Shang Qinghua blushed profusely and just opened his mouth to respond as…

„I think, they went this way,“ a voice, clearly one of An Ding‘s disciples, echoed through the alley. And for. Second time this evening Shang Qinghua panicked. Using the wrist he was still holding he pulled Mobei Jun close. But he miscalculated his strength or Mobei Jun’s willingness to get dragged again by him, because instead of just pulling him closer, Mobei Jun’s body crashed against his, pressing him against the wall behind him. Shang Qinghua gulped and wanted to push Mobei Jun gently away again, but the demon prince towered over him, imprisoning the human between the wall and his body. He leaned down, his in black hair falling around them and concealing their faces.

As the pursuers turned into the alley, they nearly stumbled over each other. From what they were seeing, a pair was intimately intertwined with each other. There was no way that that was their antisocial head disciple Shang Qinghua. They stumbled backwards, their faces blushing. „How indecent,“ one of them muttered before they all fled from the this openly shown demonstration of affection.

Not that Shang Qinghua would have noticed, because all he could think about was this ice cold body pressed against his way too hot one. They were so close that their breaths tangled between them. The inky waterfall of hair had shut the world outside out and right there, right now, there were only the two of them. Shang Qinghua‘s heart was drumming against his ribcage, trying to flee from it‘s prison and to nestle itself in Mobei Jun‘s hands where it belonged. His mind was blank as he opened his mouth to say something, find another excuse. To do something just to break this loaded silence. But not even a single sound escaped his lips.

Mobei Jun, too, didn‘t know what to do, nor what he was actually doing, pressing Shang Qinghua against the wall like that. He just knew that he didn‘t want this moment to end. Shan Qinghua looked like panicked prey, his eyes racing. But the blush on his cheeks made Mobei Jun hope that he didn‘t dislike this situation. His breath turned heavy and hot. Every hair of his body stood in alert. If he could just lean in, get even closer. It was then that Shang Qinghua opened his mouth without uttering a word. His lips looked even more enticing in the dim light of this small world behind his hair.

Mobei Jun couldn‘t hold back anymore. He leaned down, catching those soft petals between his. He never had kissed anyone before, so he didn‘t close his eyes as he leaned down. So he saw how Shang Qinghua‘s eyes widened, before they closed and his body relaxed. The tanghulu stick sliding out of Shang Qinghua‘s hand, falling to the ground. But neither of them paid their mind to that. The only thing they both could think about was the other. He really tastes sweeter than the tanghulu, was what Mobei Jun was thinking as he closed his own eyes to engulf himself completely in the moment. Shang Qinghua had opened his mouth some more, practically asking Mobei Jun to deepen the kiss. Without further ado, he let his tongue join with Shang Qinghua‘s, pressing against it and drawing a sweetheart whimper from the smaller man‘s throat. Their teeth crashed into each other, but they both didn‘t care. Shang Qinghua had wrapped his arms around Mobei Jun‘s neck, while the demon prince had grabbed the human‘s waist so firmly that he surely left red marks on the delicate skin beneath his robed.

It was a kind of clumsy kiss, both of them inexperienced and awkward. So it didn‘t last long before they had to break the kiss to catch their breath. They were both heaving, their faces burning, while their eyes searched for the other‘s filled with uncertainty what exactly had happened. But neither of them could hold the exe contact, so they both looked away in a bashful manner.

Mobei Jun was the first one to clear his throat, stepping back to give Shang Qinghua space. With that the drape of hair gave them free, reminding both of them that there was a world outside. A word where a human and a demon weren‘t supposed to kiss in an alleyway during a summer festival.

„I…“ they both started at the same time. It made Shang Qinghua giggle. “Well, that was a good idea to get them off our backs. They really would never imagine me, kissing such a beauty in broad,“ he stopped for a second before continuing with a crooked grin on his face, „… in broad night light.“ It seemed that even Mobei Jun found that joke so bad that he had to chuckle. They didn‘t have to talk about the kiss, the implications that it brought or if it had consequences. They could just use the excuse of using it as a method of distraction. Neither of them was mad about the fact, that the other just took this excuse and ran with it. They were just teenage boys. Mobei Jun wasn‘t quite sure about what exactly he was feeling. And Shang Qinghua wasn‘t sure if his favourite character really was interested in him or just acted in the spur of the moment. Either way, he felt just happy that he had the chance to kiss him.

They didn‘t bring the kiss up ever again. It felt more like a sweet dream in a warm summer night laced with the fresh taste of fruits and the sound of a bustling festival in the background. They didn‘t kiss either for a long, long time. But after that night, they grew even closer, the touches they shared filled with such tender care and the gazes they exchanged where embellished with feelings they didn‘t dare to speak out loud. Not that these two young man noticed these things about the other. They were way to concerned about their own hearts and feelings to catch the growing fondness of the other.

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#svsss #moshang #mxtx svsss #mobei jun #shang qinghua #bear with me #danmei #headcanon #idiots in love #svsss headcanon #fanfic snippet #teenage moshang #hormonal boys in their teenage years #scum villain self saving system #scum villain #fluff

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snoopyhughes · 10 months ago

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walked in and dream came trued it for ya (nh13)

happy summer fic exchange @nol-pat! I hope you love this, my goal was to write a fun, lighthearted, Euro summer fic and I hope that translates into my writing. thank you as always, Demi for hosting this event for our community. @wyattjohnston. title from espresso by Sabrina carpenter :)

This is 1.8k words of pure fluff, strangers to lovers, I tried my best to make this a gender neutral reader so that it's safe for all to read.

You weren't sure that you ever imagined a trip like this.

One of your best friends was getting married to the love of her life, and when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, of course, you said yes. When you met Lucy in middle school, you couldn't say you thought that the two of you would be in each other's weddings. The "friendship" started off rocky, with Lucy holding hands with your boyfriend during science lab right in front of you. Lucy however, had no idea he was your boyfriend, and when she found out, she pushed him over and immediately coined you two as best friends. You were apprehensive at first of her outward nature, but soon found out the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Lucy decided to go to NYU for college, you staying closer to your home, neither of you could've imagined that she would've met the love of her life weeks in to her freshman year. Or that the love of her life would just so happen to be New Jersey Devils defenseman John Marino.

John was in his first season with the Devils when Lucy met him at a bar downtown, and the two of them clicked immediately. The two had been dating for a few years when John proposed. A few months later, John was traded to Utah, taking your best friend with him.

Since John's first full season in Utah, you had only seen Lucy once. When Lucy let it slip to John one night that her dream was to get married in Italy, a long lost dream that had gotten lost amongst the piles of student loans and outlandish New York rent fees, John jumped through every hoop to make it happen, and managed to get it all pulled together in a year. This all led you to here, in beautiful Lake Como, clutching your bags at the arrival gate feeling like a fish out of water.

To her credit, Lucy met you at the gate, the two of you embracing in a hug that was so needed after the long months you spent apart. "I missed you so much! I can't believe you're here!" She exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. "I can't believe it either! And I can't believe John paid for my flight," you grumbled in an attempt to hide how guilty you felt. When Lucy told you her and John were to be married in Italy, it took only seconds of her observing the horrified and disappointed look on your face until her and John decided to fund the trip. Lucy paid her share, working as a nurse practitioner now based in Utah, and the two of them didn't flinch before booking your trip. Lucy said it would be "absolutely foolish" to get married without you by her side as one of her bridesmaids. The title of maid of honor was always reserved for her sister, you coming in as a close second.

"Oh! And I have to tell you, I paired you up with Johnny's gorgeous teammate. He's foreign, single, and not to mention, he's the captain." Lucy squealed as you walked out to the rental car, your eyes bugging out. "Oh I'm googling him immediately," you giggled.

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The group of wedding party members arrived a few days early to spend some time in Italy exploring the beautiful country before the wedding duties begun. All Lucy informed you of was that you were going to be boating around the water and having lunch at a waterfront restaurant. As you got ready in what you thought was most appropriate for the occasion, your mind drifted to the man you saw on your phone screen yesterday.

When you found Nico on social media, you couldn't believe that Lucy had paired you two together for the wedding festivities. Nico was absolutely stunning. You never felt like a particularly shy person, but you found yourself rehearsing potential conversations, feeling like nothing could prepare you for any sort of interaction you had with the Swiss center man.

When you walked into the lobby of the resort, meeting the rest of the bridesmaids, they all squealed when they saw you, ready for the day on the boat. "Oh my god! You look incredible!" Daphne, Lucy's college roommate squealed, pulling you into a hug, which you had learned was her signature greeting. "Nico isn't gonna know what hit him!" Another bridesmaid had yelled. You shook your head laughing. You knew that Lucy had made it out to seem like you were forlorn, but the truth was that Lucy hated your ex so much that she was determined to set you up right after the breakup. What you felt was enough time to cope with the breakup had added an extra year onto that time, and it was safe to say you were ready to get back in to dating.

When you met the happy couple and the groomsmen at the boat, you weren't sure what to expect. But you can safely say you definitely were not expecting a party yacht, with blaring music, and men who already looked like they had downed a few bottles of champagne. After the boys moaned and groaned about your "late arrival" of 10 minutes, the boat set off.

You snuck away from the hustle and bustle momentarily to watch the views, seated towards the water with your drink of choice, when the man you had been thinking about for the last 24 hours came to greet you. "Y/N?" he asked hesitantly, almost like he wasn't completely convinced it was you. "That's me!" you smiled at him, and when you turned and made eye contact with his smiling face, little did you know the two of you melted like butter in the hot summer sun.

"Wow," he muttered out loud, much to his dismay. Sensing his nerves, you stood up to shake his hand. "Hi! Nice to finally meet you, Nico. I understand we're going to be walking down the aisle together?" you asked with a smile. He took your hand with a shake, albeit a bit clammy, and put his other hand on your forearm, causing goosebumps to arise. You were suddenly grateful for your decision to wear your favorite swimming suit, the one you felt most confident in. You considered leaving it until after the wedding, but no better time than the present.

"Yeah, we are. Have you been in a wedding before?" You asked him with a smile, causing Nico's cheeks to turn pink. "I've been in two weddings before. Best man in one and a groomsman in the other. What about you?" He asked you, trying not to show his nerves. "I've never been in one. I haven't been to many weddings, this is all very new to me." You smiled at him, grateful that you would have his smiling face next to you throughout this journey. You didn't know hardly anyone here, and before you met the other bridesmaids, you were starting to realize how nervous you really were. But as you met the other bridesmaids, the wives and girlfriends of John's teammates past and present, and of course, Nico, you felt much more comfortable with the fact that you had never traveled outside of the country, had never been in a wedding before, and knew virtually no one outside of the bride and groom.

"Hopefully I can keep you good company, make your first wedding very memorable for you." Nico mentioned cheekily, the same blush dusting the apples of his cheeks. "I hope so."

-------

You never doubted that Nico would make the wedding and your trip memorable, but you were surprised at the amount of chivalry he was pulling out. You were so nervous to impress him, but little did you know, Nico had been thinking about you constantly since you met on the boat. Not to mention he spent the rest of the time on the yacht keeping you company, getting you refills of your favorite drink, and bringing you water when the July Italian sun proved to be as bright and as scorching as you had imagined.

You were getting ready with the other bridesmaids, putting on another coat of mascara when you heard a knock on the door. You were the only one doing your makeup at the time, and after a quick scope around the room to make sure none of the girls who were changing were gonna flash the visitor at the door, you opened the door.

A pleasant surprise greeted you: Nico with a bouquet of flowers, looking breathtaking in his soft grey groomsman suit. "These are for you," he mumbled nervously, pushing them towards you with that blush on his cheeks that was becoming very familiar to you. "Thank you, these are gorgeous!" You smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek as a sign of gratitude. Nico had no idea how he was standing on his own two feet at that point. In just a few short days, you had turned him into putty in your hands. He found himself wondering how far the travel would be from where you lived to Newark when the season started.

He bid you a goodbye, the both of you going to finish off getting ready for the wedding and helping the bride and groom respectively to get ready for the walk down the aisle.

When you met Nico at the end of the aisle, the two of you felt your heart stop. And when Nico continued to make eye contact with you during the ceremony, keeping a soft hand on your back throughout the reception, and when the two of you finally joined each other at the end of the night for a dance, you melted into his arms, Nico feeling so lucky to have been paired with you. He felt himself falling hard for you, and you felt the same way.

"Can I convince you to make a trip to Jersey this season? I know Lucy and Johnny aren't there anymore, but I'd like to think you have another reason to come back." Nico asked with his head resting against the top of your head. "Do I?" you teased, causing Nico to laugh. "I'm kidding, I'd love to." When you looked up at him after confirming his plans, seeing the sparkling look in his eye, you only had one more thing to do. The two of you felt the magnetic pull towards each other, your lips finally touching, and you both knew that the two of you were smitten. As Nico rested his hand on your waist and pulled away, seeing John and Lucy smiling at you, everyone had a feeling the four of you would soon find yourself in a similar situation a few years down the road.

#nico hischier #nh13 #elle's writing #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #New Jersey devils #New Jersey devils imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

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Hello, hello! Congrats to the milestone! For the festivity may I wish for a fic with 1/A; 2/Canon- adjasond; 3/Hurt/Comfort and 4 is up to you. If it fits your jam, would be an outsider pov be possible? 👀

Thank you so much for the ask, I definitely gave myself some feels writing this one! I've never done a Wayne POV before, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. 🥲

Your first warden

Words: 999

Rated: T

Tags: POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Child neglect; Child abuse; Alcohol abuse; Drowning; Referenced parental death; Eddie had a shitty childhood; Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Hurt Eddie Munson; Recovery; Caretaker Steve Harrington; Hurt/comfort

The first time Eddie almost died, he was two years old.

Al had insisted on bringing him along for that fishing trip. A proper men's day out, he'd said. Of course Al’s idea of a proper men's day out was hitting the booze the second they arrived. By the time Wayne heard him snore, little Ed had already wandered off.

He found him floating face down between the reeds a few yards away. The water lillies and the pretty lights rippling on the surface must've drawn him in. Wayne thinks he lost five years of his life in the seconds between pulling him out and the kid's first coughs filling the air.

“‘s okay, kiddo,” Wayne murmured as he rocked the both of them, tears and lake water drenching his flannel. “‘s okay. I gotcha.”

The ruckus drew Al, of course. He took one look at them and yanked Eddie away by the arm, slapping him hard across the face.

“Quit howling, it's your own damn fault for going in the water. And you,” his eyes found Wayne's and his face twisted into something ugly. “Who d'ya think you are, his fucking guard dog? Keep your nose outta things that don't concern ya.”

And maybe it was because Wayne never liked being told what to do, least of all by his drunk, deadbeat brother - but he promised himself something on that day.

For as long as Eddie would need him, he'd watch over him.

He'd often think back on that promise over the years. Teaching Eddie to ride a bike. Letting him sob into his shoulder at his mom's funeral, daring Al to say something about being a man one glare at a time. Taking him in when he showed up on his doorstep, bruised and beaten, hair shorn so short his scalp was bleeding in places.

Wayne never regretted his decision, and he never broke that promise.

Until the day Eddie almost died the second time.

The beemer parked by the new trailer is a sight he should be used to by now. Still, Wayne can't help but grumble as he makes his way up the porch steps.

Don't get him wrong, he'll be forever grateful to the Harrington boy for carrying Eddie out of literal hell, but he isn't sure if this new friendship between the two will ever be anything but bizarre to him.

Maybe it's because the Harringtons don't mingle with the likes of them, or maybe it's because the lad is the exact type of kid Eddie hates with a passion, usually.

Maybe it's because Wayne has noticed the way Eddie looks at the boy. He's always had a way of getting in too deep, Eddie has. Drawn to pretty flowers and rippling lights that'll slip through his fingers when grasps at them, luring him in until it's too late.

The first thing he hears when he steps inside is a thud, followed by a wince. He's just taken the first step when Harrington barrels out of the kitchen and into Eddie’s room, completely unaware of Wayne standing in the door.

“Eddie? What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” comes Eddie’s reply, and Wayne knows that tone. The just-got-caught-doing-forbidden-shit one. “Just trying to put up this fucking thing.”

Toeing off his boots, Wayne hovers closer to the half-open door. A look inside reveals Eddie, sitting on the bed with a sheepish grin on his face and that giant banner he made for his band beside him. Harrington, back turned to the door, huffs and picks up the hammer lying on the ground.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds, climbing onto the bed and gesturing for Eddie to hand him the banner. A few swift movements and knocks of the hammer later, it’s hanging. “You could’ve opened a wound. Again. What do I need to do to make you stay in bed, tie you up?”

Eddie grins toothily. “Okay, one: I am in bed, technically. And two: oooh, kinky.”

Wayne groans soundlessly. Harrington rakes a hand down his face, plopping down cross-legged on the mattress.

“Eddie.”

Their knees bump together. Now that he has turned and he can see him in half-profile, Wayne recognizes the concern on Harrington’s face. Eddie’s grin shifts into something softer.

“I know,” he says, watching his hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pajama pants. “It’s just … It’s annoying, not being able to do anything on my own. Being such a goddamn burden all the time. To Wayne, to the kids. To you.”

“Hey.” Harrington’s hand settles on top of Eddie’s. “You're not a burden. We're all glad you're here. I'm glad. You know that, right?

Eddie flips his hand, tangling their fingers together, and Harrington doesn't pull away.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “I know.”

Harrington smiles, reaching up to cup Eddie’s face with his free hand.

“You just wait,” he winks. “You'll be back to walking on tables in no time. And in the meantime …”

Eddie melts into the touch, lashes brushing the other boy's palm as his eyes flutter shut.

“In the meantime, you got me.”

“I gotcha,” Harrington confirms, and leans in.

Wayne is just about to sneak away when the kettle whistles in the kitchen. The boys turn … and then they all just sort of freeze.

“Hiya, boys,” Wayne rumbles when they're still silently gaping at him a few seconds later.

“Mr. Munson,” Harrington croaks. “I mean … sir. I mean … hi?”

“Wayne?” Eddie blurts. “H-how long have you been standing there?”

Wayne considers that question while both boys continue to stare at him with matching scarlet blushes coloring their cheeks. Their hands are still lying entwined on the mattress between them.

“Long enough, I reckon,” is what he finally says. “I'll take care of the kettle, Steve. You lads stay put.”

And with that, he closes the door on their confused faces and makes his way into the kitchen. It's been a long day, and he's looking forward to resting his feet.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets

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