#not to be dramatic but i would die for him

[eeboyysworld]

Hello! Hope you're having a nice day. If you're taking requests, could i ask for Dae-Ho x male reader? Thank you! :)

“ I know you wanna kiss me-“

—⋆. 𐙚⋆.˚

Genre: Smut

Kang Dae-ho X Male!Reader

Cautions/Warnings: Praise kink, Enemies to (not) lovers, Teasing, Hair pulling, hand job, Dae-ho pops a boner and you’re the most decent person to help.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Pain swirled inside your ankle, a purple mark forming there. You just had to twist it , didn’t you.

the previous game left a huge mark on you, a large turning compartment in the middle of the room.

Mingle, that’s what it was called.

People fighting for their life’s, shoving and pushing innocent (or not) people into the ground, that includes you. Getting slammed to the hard ground froze you on the spot, the pain coming in waves.

You would had died. If it wasn’t for the man , whom you had bothered the past days of being in this hell hole, saved you.

Getting out of his own way to drag your limp body into the blood covered room.

Dae-ho, Cheery despite the situation, cracking jokes but remains serious when needed. You didn’t know him outside these games, but being divided into two groups, ‘x and o’ , you had no choice but to dislike them.

You voted to stay inside the games, the debt and reality of the outside world crashing down on you. It was stupid , voting for your own death.

You had every reason to thank him endlessly for giving you another chance at life, bowing towards him.

Despite the brawls the two of you got in, he shook the past aside , reassuring that ‘you would do the same for him.’

———

The bed you resided on was comfortable enough to rest on, the metal underneath the thin material digging into you.

The state your foot was left in wasn’t half bad , considering it had been a couple hours since then.

The bruise still contrast to your skin.

Rice mushing around your mouth, the flavour dull as you could taste the fork more than the food.

Swashing it down with a bottle of milk.

Your bottom became sore after sitting on it for the past hours , during the time passing you had been accept into this little group.

Diverse people combined into one alliance, to stop the games. The new faces marking a memory in your head.

A few of them offering their bread and milk towards you and another young girl.

Flustered under their gazes, smiling accepting the offer with a thanks.

Sluggishly nibbling the crust, zoning in and out of conversations. You tried your best to not get attached to them, dreadfully knowing sooner or later you’ll all die.

Despite the Traumatic scenes that unfolded Infront of all of you, one person lifted the mood.

The smiling marine kept making advances towards you, keeping you company.It was sweet, the two of you talking about the past and hopes for whatever future you could get.

Guilt crept at you, apologizing for the harm you caused.

“This place can make a person crazy.” Patting your upper thigh as he spoke,” I don’t blame you, we were on different sides only trying to survive.” His gaze felt heavy, lowering your own head, attention drifting to the ,used to be, white shoes.

“If I could..” stammering the words out,” In any way- I would repay you.” Your leg involuntary bouncing.

He paid no response, staring off into the distance, eyes glinting with uncertainty.

The silence between you guys hadn’t flatter, even with the voices and shouts in the background.

You guys sat like that until an announcement rang, lights dimming as the hallway lights shined through, casting a glow just enough to navigate.

Having the need to stay up, you accepted the challenge of fighting sleep to keep watch. Nestling yourself in between two bunk beds.

The night rolling on , countless snores and conversations could be heard.

An hour in of keeping guard, flinching when a hand slapped your shoulder, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings.

Dramatically exhaling as the familiar face appeared before you. “Ah..you scared me.”

A nervous chuckle left him, slotting himself beside you. He felt off, energy leeching off of him.

You had notice the way he slumped, eyes twitching to get a glimpse of you, fingers digging into his pants.

Neither of you spoke, stealing ‘risky’ glances towards each other. It went on like that , before he finally got the courage to voice his thoughts.

“I .. have a problem..” concern adorned you, had he been hurt last game? , whispering your question.

Getting a shake of a head left you wondering what happened. “I was just thinking..you were the only one who could help.”

Biting his lip, gulping as he muttered.

Barely hearing it, kindly asking him to speak up a bit.

Locking his eyes onto you, “ It’s.. uhm-“ cutting himself off, licking his lips as a habit.

Letting the quietness settle before speaking, “ D-down..theree.” Dragging the ‘e’ to a halt.

Huh.. taking a peak downwards, curiosity getting the better of you. Eyes slightly widening, catching the bulge between his legs. Wow.

Now..what would a rational person do in this situation. Kindly turn down the offer. But you were not rational.

Turning your body to the side, bringing your gaze to his face, making eye contact.

It had suddenly become too hot in this place. Feeling your face tingling from his attention.

“Oh..” there was practically butterflies swooning inside you, he wants you to help him.

He was quick to apologize for making you uncomfortable, steadily getting up, bowing towards you. He knew he shouldn’t have asked..

But before he could get away , a hand grabbed onto his loose shirt, pulling the other closer to you.

The feeling of arousal pooling inside you, whispering so that no one but you two could hear.

“I would love to help you.” Was it the fact you pitted him for popping a boner out of all places, maybe , he was rather cute, a perfect face to be ruined by you.

He was shocked to say the least, trying to regain composure only to be pushed to the bed farthest away.

You kept on your feet , despite just recovering from the injury you endured,while he was seated.

Greedy hands exploring his body, flushed face inches away from you. He was so close to your lips he can feel your breath.

It was awkward in the moment, as he never was this close to you, he shyly thanked you for doing this for him.

You could only smile, the soft lights shining both of you, silhouettes dancing on the walls.

muttering , “I told you I would repay you..” eyes wandering across his face, noticing every detail you could drink up.

Becoming shy under such gaze, the other melted into the comfort of the bed.

Trailing your hands downwards, ruffling the stained tracksuit. Your body moving with your hands, dropping to your knees.

The soft thud bouncing off the arena, the rough floor digging into the your flesh.

He was like jelly under your touch, folding as skilled hands gripped his waist, every touch riling him up more.

Breathe fawning his clothed bulge, it was like you were examining him. He peered at you, mouth agape.

He nearly yelped as you lunged frontwards, throwing his palm to silence the sounds.

You sat there knees spread slightly aprat, mouthing the fabric, saliva seeping through the material, the warm wetness lubricating himself.

His other hand shakily made its way to your head, softly resting on the head of hair. You didn’t want it just sitting there.

Roughly grabbing his fingers to thread the locks, swapping your tongue out to cause a reaction out of him, the sensation made his fingers grip.

Muffled apologies hidden behind his palm, neck tense from how he contained himself.

You continued to torment the poor guy, keeping his junk in his pants. He was frustrated and sensitive to the touch.

Mouth kept working towards him, pants dark from the amount of spit on it, outlining his length.

He couldn’t even do anything about it, he couldn’t scream and beg you to touch him, that would end bad.

Left to squirm and whine in his seat.

After you felt decent about your work, pulling yourself away, admiring him.

“Try to be quiet, ay?” It was a statement, you couldn’t have him moaning into the air, not when you knew the other people now.

Shoving your hand into the tracksuit, slipping through the others boxers,

Feeling the pre-cum drip down along with your spit, creating the perfect natural lube.

Steadily dragging downwards and up, purring sweet nothings, “ Aw, hold on a little longer..” slipping up and down, fastening the pace. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your words went straight to his head, not the one on-top his shoulders.

The hand he chose to mouth on had a red mark, the other settled into your locks of hair, tightening and letting loose.

Sounds of desperation could be heard if someone listened too intently.

It was too much , the soft padding of your hand left him a mess. You kept reducing the speed before fastening it up, the stimulation was overbearing.

Finger playing with his angry tip, the touch as light as a feather, yet it had him stuttering. “Mm- m-more..”

He was heavy in your hand, was practically throbbing.

“ You deserve it ..don’t you?” You were playing with him, watching the desperate head nods.

Continuing to stoke him, leading him to Chase his high , thrusting into your hand.

Bed ever so slightly squeaking with the weight of his body moving up and down.

You let him rut into you like a dog, his hair tie loosening up, hair pieces flowing out.

You let him rock his hips in your hold, only choosing to add pressure back and forth.

Dick twitching, incoherent words stammering into the air. “Please.. I’m so c-close..”

Taking pity, you began to move with him, lining the timing perfectly.

He basically humped your hand, gripping your hair , moving you along with him. Letting him to use your body.

His stomach held a pit that kept growing, throwing his head backwards, biting his hand to keep silent.

The body movement he made told you he was close, moving your hand the fastest you can, the sounds encouraging you onward.

He spoke your name like a prayer, face flushed with the amount of heat he felt, the urge to just say fuck it and throw you onto the bed.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wanna do that, despite all the people. Images flashed through him, he didn’t think he could imagine such things.

Your mouth on him as he fucked your face, he would be the one setting the pace, not you.

He could feel himself twitch.

Breathe ragged as he let himself spill into you, pulsing in your hand, body becoming limp in the hold.

Sitting there before slowly moving, long breaths leaving him.

The feeling of your hand leaving, taking the warmth with you. He whimpered from lost of contact like a kicked puppy.

Instead of wiping the evidence away, you decided to lick at it, swirling the liquid away into your warm mouth.

He was left agape , eyes focused on the way your tongue came out to lap it up, head tilted towards him, fluttering your eyes at him.

That’s one way to get rid of it.

The saltiness was bittersweet.

Latching off with a pop, moving to your feet, legs sore from sitting down. Guiding the other into you, lips finding his.

Nipping at him, slotting your tongue inside , letting the taste of bitterness sweep all over.

Moans vibrated through the both of you, hands finding what it can to ground into.

A shout had you yanking away, fearing you had hurt the other man.

“I didn’t see anything.” Slowly turning to the side, making eye contact you didn’t want to make with the most nonchalant man you ever met.

Greeting him with a ,”Good morning Young-il..”

You didn’t expect that scream to lead to that face.

———

I did not finish this when i said i would ��️

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[poisonf0rest]

genuine question because youre one of my favorite writers, you seem to really have a thorough grasp of the characters: what do you see in rafayel that makes him appealing? i try to get past his entitled brattiness because i really want to enjoy all of the guys, but i cant see anything else. please help me understand 🥲

Oh boy, baby, darling, sweetheart, you opened a can of worms. Come do a little bit of character analysis with me~

About Rafayel:

Rafayel is a brat, yes. But that means he wears his heart on his sleeve, outright when he needs your attention or sulking when something is bothering him or faking a dramatic accident to get your attention. There's no silent guessing or fake "I'm fine's," just his overdramatic, raw emotion that's easy to read. He's has anxious attachment stemming from hundreds of years of betrayal and loss.

Rafayel is a romantic, a yearner. And yes, while I also agree his attitude was annoying at first I am very unfortunately into people who get on my nerves, especially when they are flirty and funny as well. I folded during his hospital scene.

Entitled? He is a god. He has been trying and failing to save his entire civilization for over 800 years and still simply can't because he refuses to hurt the one he loves. While all the boys have been through pain there's something about Rafayel's story that really gets me. I think it’s because if I— as mc— knew the sacrifice he was making, I would give myself up. So to have someone selfish enough to place me first is heartbreaking, devoted, and cruel. 

Also there are plenty of scenes where Rafayel is serious, especially if you read between the lines. The brattiness and sass is a playful cover to someone who's been through pain and understands it. Someone who chooses to still see joy and happiness in his life while fully understanding how cruel the world is.

Simply, I'm a sucker for doomed character archetypes. There is no version of Rafayel's and mc's story where they both end happy. Millions of people will die or if mc kills herself Rafayel will live forever as a husk of his former self. Using a sassy, filirty, bratty attitude to cover up such a genuinely depressing story is so juicy to me.

About Me:

I'm a Zayne irl. Work is honestly the most important thing to me outside my family, I'm devoted to my hobbies and leadership positions, and I have a close circle of friends I would do anything for. I'm also fucking hilarious subjective.

I'm the eldest sibling, the guard dog, the de-facto leader for almost everything. I'm the person who had to grow up fast, to parent my immigrant parents at times, who never made space for love, and who is by default independant and comfortable with it.

I prefer to listen-- I love my yapper friends. Don't get me wrong I can talk for hours about anything, but day to day I tend to get exhausted talking after a while so I surround myself with people who can do the easy talking for me.

My irl partner is a mix between Rafayel and Sylus I'd say. He's the one who pulls me out of my work spirals by nagging me until I give in, someone I'm comfortable yapping about my current hyperfixations too, someone who my inner child can come out to. But I also enjoy being a caregiver, that's always been my role and I relish in it, I like being relied upon as much as I appreciate having someone in my life that lets me take a step back. The only part that's Sylus is how his love language is bullying me and his vibe/looks lmao, but usually I am more into raf-stereotypical pretty boys.

So, overall, the appeal of Rafayel to those that choose him:

Rafayel is for the eldest daughters who needs their inner child to be free, who needs a little bit of ridiculousness and impulsiveness in their lives.

Rafayel is for those who never got praised for their effort or strength, for those who success was the only option, who had to be perfect, reliable and serious all the time. He makes it so clear how much simply being with you means to him, constantly complimenting, flirting, and reassuring you just how much he needs you. Showing you how obsessed with you he is.

Rafayel is for those who didn't think love had a place in their lives due to shit family or life circumstances. He proves time and time again that you're the only one he loves. Even though he's lived forever, you were worth the wait and that he would wait again for you, no matter how long it takes. He proves you can be loved, and that it comes easy.

Rafayel is for those who always placed others first. He's more than willing to show you again and again you will always be first in his mind. He needs you more than he does water. Sure, you can take care of him, but he wants to be with you and take care of you, too.

Rafayel is for those who need someone else to drag them out of work/school/spiralling even when they don't want to admit it, bringing in laughter, color, and a little bit of dramatics.

Rafayel is for creators who dedicate themselves to their craft, who are scared of losing this "spark," who want to get better but constantly feel that what they create isn't enough or must be more. 

Rafayel is for hopeless romantics, those that go out of their way to surprise their friends during their birthdays, those who plan platonic dates for those they care about, those who put out so much love into the world and suddenly break when they get that love back.

Rafayel is for those used to having little siblings or those to take care of in our lives. Only while Rafayel relishes in the attention, he's also ready to give it back five-fold.

Rafayel is a switch for switch (brat for brat) lmao. He's for those who like to start on top, teasing and pushing his buttons to get all those cute reactions out of him, just until he breaks. Then he can take control and finish us up. We love vocal men.

Maybe projecting, but Rafayel is the perfect bi-girl's boyfriend. He's a classic pretty boy, unafraid to be in touch with his feminine side, a little dramatic, a little artsy. But he's also super romantic, sensitive, loving, and intense. And gosh, who could say no to those big puppy eyes?

I could probably continue to talk about Rafayel for hours, but ya, hopefully this helps answer why I and others love this man. Just continue on with the main story and read between the lines with his dialogue and I'm sure you'll pick up on it too~

[yandins-beleagured-historian]

OKAY SO,

because the Iron Fists are a (semi) homebrew chapter and therefore by definition a whole CHAPTER of OCs, let's limit the scale of this to five particularly prominent members of the chapter.

Cosrau Yandin

One-time sergeant of the sixth squad (tactical), Second Company, now captain of the Seventh, this boy is our PoV character. He's a lovable little control freak who's read everything in the Chapter's tactical, technical and historical archives because no-one told him not to. As an initiate, his mentor imbued him with a particularly noble view of how a company is supposed to work and what the relationships between ranks are supposed to look like. Cosrau is perpetually disappointed and frustrated by those that don’t honour that picture, least of all himself. He's currently trying to speedrun the Astartes-equivalent of burnout and shake off the feeling that everything that happens to his subordinates is his fault. Career highlight - charging a Chaos Terminator lord with nothing but a combat knife and a meltagun, and not dying. Favourite question: “What do you need from me in order to do your job?”

Samas Tenebra

Cosrau's direct superior during his time in the Second, Captain Samas Tenebra is everything you'd want in a mythologised superior. He's a dyed-in-the-wool assault marine with a flair for the dramatic, an overdeveloped sense of vengeance, and a nothing-but-cheese approach to strategy. He's lead the Second to a number of successes over his seventy-year tenure, which can largely be attributed to two factors. One: he's cultivated a highly competent pool of subordinate leaders, and two: he keeps throwing himself at the highest value objective in the battlespace - often from several miles up. By the time of Cosrau's own captaincy, Samas Tenebra would be raised to First Captain, fail to save both his predecessor and his successor, and would die trying to fight a Chaos Titan as Imperial forces pull back across the Stygius sector. Cosrau's favourite Tenebra-Legend: That time he killed nine terminators atop Eidolon's ruined command bunker on the day the Indomitus Crusade arrived at Taralus. Tenebra's least favourite Tenebra-Legend: That time a Thousand Sons Sorceror prophesied his death, amongst other things Oh, the gates swing wide for Him, do they not? Varl hungers for your sixth, o shadow. Pray to your corpse-god for his sake that it is only the empyrean that comes to swallow him up!

Harcast

Oho, now here's the spooky lad. Sixth Captain Harcast is, on paper, somewhat of a kindred soul to Yandin. While records are hazy, it is known for sure that before his current posting, he was a Sternguard veteran of the ninth squad, First Company, and one of the most experienced kill-team operatives in the Chapter before his promotion. It was a sensible pick - the Sixth have been infiltration and recon specialists since the days of Haya Merojan, and it's rumoured that Harcast had an in with Captain Llameharr, the previous incumbent But even for a black ops afficionado, Harcast is...weird. A scant few, Yandin included, claim him to be good-humoured, level-headed and an excellent teacher, there are many in both the First and Sixth who swear dead-to-rights that they have never seen him out of his armour, or even heard him speak. This is probably fine and normal and has absolutely nothing to do with whatever the fuck the "Legan Schola Incident" was, of which Harcast is the only listed survivor in records so buried and so redacted that ++REMOVED FOR SENSITIVITY++ Favourite/only sentimental attachment: A bespoke bolt rifle of hiiighly questionable origins that, according to legend, was boring holes through skulls a full century before anyone had so much as heard the word 'Primaris.' Leads to interview for more information: Lieutenant Trimer (missing), Ascendant Trazis (asleep), Epistoliary Tyvus (I am not going anywhere near that, and I emphasise, Senile Terminator Psyker, stop trying to get me killed Hester.)

Kastal Verchen

That's CHAPTER MASTER Kastal Verchen, thank you very much. Fifty-Second Lord Commander of the Iron Fists, High Castellan of Taralus, The Arcan Herald, the Silent Hero of Blakkspanna's Bay, etcetera etcetera. Having said all that, as far as Chapter Masters go in general, Verchen is a touch underwhelming. His most glorious accomplishment is a tie between not getting killed by Eidolon and not getting killed by an avatar of Ynnead. But not dying is perhaps Verchen's greatest skill, and one that he's somehow managed to promulgate amongst his subordinates. Granted, there's been rough spots in his relatively short tenure as Chapter Master, but he's brought a mauled chapter of less than three hundred up to more than a thousand in twenty short years. Beneath the tempered, diplomatic pragmatism is a fierce compassion that's somehow escaped the attention of other Iron Hands successors. This comes as no surprise to those with access to Verchen's full history - before his induction into the Arcan Temple, he was the best Savant-Apothecary the Iron Fists had seen in millenia, and he manages the chapter like a patient, rather than an engine of war. Favourite metalore tidbit: Kastal Verchen is one of only two named characters in the breathlessly-few scraps of canon lore on the Iron Fists - he's referenced in passing in the Battlefleet Gothic Armada rulebook "To Cleanse the Stars" as backsassing the Imperial Navy about pirates interfering with the Dudzus landings.

Mokuba Tyros

Mokuba Goddamned Tyros. Also known as "the scariest bastard ever to wear the golden gauntlet", the fifty-first Lord Commander of the Iron Fists has been terrorizing the galaxy for the last seven hundred years. He was at the Feast of a Hundred Duels when the World Eaters attacked, and came back a century later to win the Feast of Blades for the Iron Fists. Tyros led the Fifth Company over the ocean world of Poseidius VIII and personally turned Waaagh! Izdakka away from the borders of Segmentum Solar. He conducted a thousand diplomatic missions to raise support for the reclamation of Taralus, and orchestrated the subsequent campaign down to the slightest detail. When the Noctis Aeternia rolled in, Tyros drew fire away from the chapter's more vulnerable ships and gave more than a million men and women the chance to reach the homeworld's service. And when three thousand unnumbered sons dropped into Taralus' atmosphere to liberate it for good, Mokuba Tyros was the iron point of the spear. Mokuba Tyros is less of a tangible character, more of a living standard for the chapter to aspire to. He is to the common marine what the Iron Hands are to the chapter at large, and so distanced from the line troops that he might as well be a legend, glimpsed only fleetingly at the grandest of events. Even a captain might only experience two or three one-on-one encounters with him during their career, and none have ever gotten a successful read on him. All they've been able to report on the man behind the blades is that "He has given much of himself to the Chapter" - whatever the heck that means.

There was only ever one man who truly knew Mokuba Tyros - a bodyguard of the Arcan Temple, spoken in whispers of as the best Savant-Apothecary the Iron Fists had seen in millenia.

Reblog and tell me about your Warhammer OCs!!!

(seriously, I see so many cool fanart and fanfiction, I want to learn about everyone!!)

[rebelliousstories]

Same Face

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Death, Drinking and Alcohol, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,072

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Taken from your timeline with your adopted daughter was bad enough. Now you have to deal with a man that looks exactly like the one you lost. Complete with the trauma.

Consider Donating: Here

The void was a rough terrain for anyone. A desolate wasteland where everything came to die, and no one lived for too long. This was where she had found herself and her adoptive daughter. When Laura had brought new survivors to the hideout, she almost could not believe it. He was here; Logan had returned.

But as she hid in the shadows while that man in the red suit continued to yap, she quickly realized that this was not her Logan. Not only was he younger, without the advanced adimantium poisoning that her’s did, but everything about him was off. Sure, her lover drank like a fish, but not like this. He never did it to forget entirely. And he would also not be caught dead in yellow spandex.

Laura made herself known to the group, but her adoptive mother did not. She just continued to stay in the dark, where she was most comfortable. Whoever this red suited merc with an endless supply of witty comments was, she did not care for him. Her eyes just stayed on the man that looked so eerily like her lost love.

“That’s- that’s her, Logan. That’s X-23. Wait, if you’re here, then…” Wade gasped dramatically, “is NightMaere here?”

The way he said it, it almost sounded like excitement. But the woman refused to reveal herself just yet. Logan grumbled behind a gulp of whiskey, “who the hell is that?”

“You didn’t have one of her in your world?” Deadpool was now utterly confused. But the Wolverine just shook his head, and took another swig.

Upon hearing this, she just slinked further back into the shadows, and went into a dark corner. She was not sure which would have been worse; for him to have one of her and possibly have lost her, or for her to have never existed in the first place.

Either way, she did not care to stick around.

It was not until nightfall that she was seen again. And that was only because Laura had come to seek her out. The younger girl crouched down to where the older woman was sitting. Following her eyes, Laura could not help but smile as she saw that she was looking at the new Logan.

“You should go talk to him.” She suggested, knocking her shoulder into her’s.

“Yeah, cause that worked out so well for you.” Her mom chuckled.

“Seriously,” Laura smirked, “it would do you both some good.”

Looking at the young girl that she had to raise, the woman smiled. Everyday, no matter how long it had been, she saw more and more of Logan in her. A brief kiss was pressed to Laura’s head, before she walked out into the open night, and towards the bonfire.

“Kid, will you just let me be?” Logan grumbled, behind the lip of his bottle.

“I’m not Laura.” She clarified, taking a seat on the same log. There was a long period of silence shared between the two of them. Neither one knew quite what to say, or who should talk first.

“Did you… um, did I really not exist in your universe?” The question on her mind was tentatively asked.

Logan took in a deep breath, that he released in a long sigh. “It’s more complicated. You were around but we were never a thing.”

“Ah, so we were just friends?”

“Yeah. Not that we didn’t try to be more.” Now, she was confused.

“What happened?” Another deep sigh.

“You got corrupted by your power. Literally, all the nightmares that you could make starting haunting you, even though you tried not to. It got to the point where you would have these fits and would send visions into peoples minds. You never meant to. It was just the side effect of your condition. Eventually, you had to be confined to- well, it was basically a cell. One crafted by Magneto, and reinforced by Chuck. You died in there.”

The pain in his voice, the tears brimming his lashes, the anguish he lived with. “You had to kill me, didn’t you?”

Not trusting his voice, Logan nodded. His throat tightened as he let out a shaky exhale. “We got one dinner before you died. One small date when you were lucid,” he spoke before clearing his throat.

“Wasn’t too long after that everything went to shit.” They both stared ahead at the crackling fire.

“We were married, ya know. Not legally, but Texas has common law marriages. You were my lifeline throughout the end of mutants. Until Laura came along, you were the single most important person in my world. Then she did, a little Logan, and we promised each other that no matter what, no matter which of us died, we would do whatever was best for her. I got to show her your Canadian roots, but we moved around a lot. Trust me, teaching her to hid her mutant ability was not easy. That child was feral for a time.” She joked, thinking back on the mutant’s childhood.

“Yeah? She seems like a spitfire. Not afraid to speak her mind.” Logan commented.

“She got that from you. Or rather, our Logan. There were definitely times that I asked if I could do this. Then I remembered how I made a vow to myself that she wouldn’t become an orphan again.” Finally breaking her eyes away from the fire, she looked at Logan’s face that was also turned towards her.

That face that was so familiar, but so different. This Logan had wrinkles in places that her’s did not. But he also had smooth skin in places her’s did not wither. But those eyes. Those were the same. She hoped, just in her mind, that she would be able to find those eyes no matter where in the multiverse she was.

“You did a good job raising her. You should be proud.” He muttered, a soberness taking over that was not there before.

“Thanks,” came her soft reply. “Listen, I need to get some sleep and check up on her. I hope you do what’s right tomorrow. I’d hate for Laura to be proven wrong.”

A gentle hand tapped his suit covered knee a couple times before heading back to the building that their ragtag group had claimed as their own. One final look was thrown over her shoulder, where she caught Logan watching her leave. She smiled, and continued on anyways.

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says…

Malleus + complicated + coparenting (modern!au, ~1000 words)

You never thought you’d stoop to this level- the dignified manager of a strip mall Spellphora reduced to this. Crying your eyes out to a telenovela with bad subtitles and an even worse plot. Totally freaking alone on valentines day. It’s your own fault, really. Maybe it’s all the karmic debt you’ve accumulated for working in a chain, or, maybe you need to manifest Malleus Draconia getting hit by a hoverboard harder! Bring on the subliminals, baby!!

That scandalously pretty (and formal in the same way a middle schooler with a briefcase is) Wand Topic goth held your teenage servicing heart and crushed it between his glossy acrylics.

You’re taking it back,, The hangouts, the free samples, and active use of your fucking email for anything but work! It’s all going in your flippy top Kuromi trash can (curtesy of he who shall not be named), and out of your stupid head!

Your notes app is full of amateur poetry and movie recommendations that you would never watch by yourself, because they’re all dumb and you hate it. You hate the whole five pages! But he made them good in the moment. With his cheating fairy makeup magic and inappropriately expensive earrings- he could make anything sound good. Why are all your situationships so profoundly dramatic and sad? Has no one heard of the casual fling to fifty year marriage pipeline??

At this point you wish he hexed you, then your insurance would fund some old fashioned retail therapy, but on your fourth Valentine’s Day alone it hits you. Maybe your shitty ex wasn’t that shitty. God, maybe he was right! All those burnt vapes gave him the clairvoyance to yell a prophecy at your kiosk before he stormed off with a barely safe amount of clearance lipgloss-

“You’re the problem”. (Subtracting the colourful language, obvi) And the only respite for your five month celibacy streak is the freezer burnt ice cream you’re shoving down your sorry gullet,, It’s not like it matters! If you get your way, he’ll never show his face again. As anyone in your position would, you sigh melodramatically into your teeny-tiny living room.

it feels so good that you dare doing it again, despite your uppity next door neighbours.

And the third one (which was going to be the best!) is cut off by a clunky knock at your storm door- it’s way too rainy to get mugged by the knee knocking cartel, but you open it anyways on the off chance Amazon has a gift for you. You cross your fingers for a hunky delivery man, ready to whisk you away from Netflix and mope!

But it’s not, because it just so happens goths are historically terrible at not moping- You look the soaking wet, insufferably sexy Malleus Draconia top to bottom in feigned judgement. From the tip of his embroidered Nurse Martens to the peak of his ebony horns catching rain like a Soda bottle to condensation, and back down to his hands cradling a travel crate like his life depends on it.

Damn, you’d still let him hit no matter what Cater says about his “Victorian girdle”..

“If I may join your evening to share it’s warmth with Gao-Gao, he would be quite grateful.”

And because you’re an aching hearted freak for wittle wizards (totally not to resolve your aching loins) (or the satisfaction of putting that self Defense baseball bat in action), you welcome the guys in with hospitality that would make Snow White weep

“Uh.. Duh! Sure, whatever. I have fresh towels. You probably still know where they are, haha..”

He gives you a grateful nod when you step aside, and the way he unfurls to full height after hunching over his precious cargo is always monstrously hot. You send yourself scrambling for the space heater (still very much vibrating from the inside, with a little ice cream crusted on your lip), no matter how embarrassed you are, Gao-Gao does not deserve to die from the cold! Malleus told you once the gecko intends on going to Valhalla, and you insisted he’s owed it for being such a good boy! (you’re also inclined to agree with any man that has a ninety degree jawline)

Gao-Gao nuzzles against your pinkie affectionately when you put some powdered feed into his crate. He ate three days ago- and you know that because you’re his pet sitter. Holding onto the little guy was easy when Malleus was away- but on pickup when his little brother showed up he thanked you. Said that Malleus didn’t have any other friends, and you couldn’t just leave him to the “adult loneliness” wolves.. So you hung out with him for awhile, and he only got cuter. That’s where it exploded in your face.

It was never his fault. You just got a bad case of the feels- on a little work party when you got hammered, Malleus took the brunt of it. Cater cheered you on in your sexless, drunken rage so well that you just blocked the guy,, And you have no idea why he’s here now.

“So,,, what’s wrong? Why’d you show up?”

“I understand I was unable to text your phone, but we had scheduled a “hanging out”, and now we can resume watching cinema! Gao-Gao is very excited with the prospect.”

You let the silence linger- and not to be mean, either. You’re just marinating in your drunk stupidity. Poor Malleus has no clue what’s going on! His own phone goes out all the time, and it’s not like you canceled, or even officially quit.. This is the worst. Not even your last breakup (pretty bad), or telling Cater that he was demoted (he literally asked to step down. Still sucked) measures up. THIS is rock bottom.

But, you’re used to being on the bottom. From scraping your way out of college only to land some mall-cop ass job better suited to someone in their teens, and all those infamously bad guys you’ve groveled to. Only Malleus (sweet, old man in a young body Malleus) bothered to spend the time reteaching you that you deserve to be spoiled- you deserve friends, and fun, and so many more pet sitting gigs with pintrestable animals.

You’re worth it. Even if it’s complicated, even if you can’t have him the way you want right now, you’ve got the rest of your life to pull it off!

(And to unblock him. That’s probably a good idea.) So for tonight you’ll enjoy the temporary simplicity, and have an unforgettable time with your best friends.

“Yeah! Let’s totally watch some “cinema”, Mally. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah! A Happy Valentines to you as well!”

God this is scary!!!!!!!! I’ve never done an event before, so please leave some comments abt your feelings with it! Much love, thanks for reading <3

(My amazing beta reader @/Echosofmortality helped SO much with getting this published!)

[betweenthescarletmoon]

hello fellow mutual from tiktok!!! I am so happy to see you put your thoughts here, i feel it was much harder for us to discuss jayce over there!

I agree with everything you said. A fourth act would've worked wonders for Every Character, not just him. And it does anger me so much that Jayce wasn't seen nor Written as a profound character because of s1. I wish i could have a talk with Christopher Linke about this

The idea that people can only like characters because they're attractive to lessen the load of digesting media is imo most likely the Editing Effect of inatagram and tiktok. It pains me to say but i do wonder if arcane came out by the time we as a generation watched AMVs and 7min edits on youtube instead (or at least i did). Maybe then people would have more profound thoughts on all the characters, including Vi, Jinx, Silco, Mel. And i am glad we can discuss things more over here, but it's still not as common to discuss and analyze as it used to be either.

You've mentioned one of my biggest gripes with fandom interpretation in the cave, WHO would debate bisexuality when they have nothing left but the crumbling inner workings of their mind, building the last comfort it can?? Thank you, i really like the idea that he also found himself resenting them, that is actually a much closer observation to how he Looks at them. I truly like that transition from his tears (which represent his old, vulnerable, sweet self) to that colder bitterness that guides him for the rest of the season (until we get the ending, which from a character narrative standpoint, doesn't make sense to me tbh).

Here's the thing, I've also placed myself in the difficult position of liking those thirst edits, saving them in a folder called "thirst traps" to keep them apart from my Real Jayce Folder, laughing at some of the "why trauma jayce kinda" and the like...while also deep down just feeling so empty and sad about it but feeling like there was nothing i could do about it? I don't wanna be dramatic but it Felt isolating. And maybe it does make me a hypocrite! Conformity and yadda yadda, but i cannot imagine that Jayce was designed to not be hot. I believe that was fully intentional, but i also thought that they were prioritizing his character. When i first saw act 2, i didn't know his agency would be obliterated and his arc ripped from his hands to place it solely on Viktor's. So now it feels even worse, that That is what the writers used him for too. And people are completely fine with it! They're so happy about the soulmates.

Your observations about him not stopping and being stuck in survival mode bring me clarity fr. He's never truly been a man about rest, was he? Perhaps that was his main trauma response all along, sacrificing sleep and Academy grades to get Hextech running, almost killing himself the moment he felt he lost it. Of course he'd do that at a more extreme level, but because act 3 doesn't rest or let the story breathe, i frankly didn't interpret it as that, it just felt like he conveniently stopped being mentally ill to give a speech and fight the war 😂 if he survived, he probably wouldn't have stopped, because stopping meant that PTSD would rear its ugly head. But the tragedy of it all Was that he died. Saving the world yes, but it feels so empty and cruel that he suffered so much just to die. No real accomplishment or meaning, just him serving the narrative and saving Viktor.

PS : i adore viktor i really do but it's getting hard not to resent him bc of what the writers did to butcher him, and how they stripped jayce of everything he was outside of him. I still love him! I promise!

And mutual! If you wanna keep talking in DMs you are welcome to!!

Random Thoughts on the Arcane Fandom about Jayce

this is gonna be a mess but I have nowhere else to talk about this.

I've recently noticed how Jayce Talis has been subjected to all kinds of sexualization since the drop of Act 2 of the second season. People have mentioned many times how trauma has made him "hot". A good and well-known example of this is Danny Motta's reaction to episode 5, where he said, "Holy shit, they made Jayce hot! [...] My dude went from looking like a Muppet to the king of Rohan, and all it took was a little bit of trauma."

This isn't entirely new for him? If people didn't hate Jayce back in S1, they ogled him in the scene where he works on the Forge shirtless, which IS kinda the point because the animators are making him very obviously attractive. But most importantly, he as a character has been reduced to his sexual or romantic relationships since the beginning of time.

It seems that S2 is a response to this in a way. His arc from the ending of S1, where he took responsibility of his actions out of guilt for the child he killed, was slightly set aside for Viktor. Well, ALL of his life, dreams, decisions, everything about him was eclipsed by Viktor's shadow because of the whole "all times, all possibilities" twist. He wasn't expected to show up as a Councilor in any of the meetings, and we must assume he quits at some point, but he surely hasn't resigned from his position by the time Viktor wakes up. Apart from that much needed scene between him and Cait, and the one where he attends the memorial (and is attacked by a vengeful mother), we don't see many of his decisions or what leads him to make them, other than Viktor. This is beautiful in a way because we can SEE how it is a trauma response to losing him. He is obsessive by nature, and he clings to what keeps him and his loved ones safe excessively, but I still had to do a bit of mental gymnastics as to why he went back on the second promise: to not build Hextech weapons again. (Hint: it has to do with the fact that VI saved him with HIS weapon, but it went so fast it's hard to process in the first watch.)

Now back to the sexualization problem. Every time I look up his name and trauma, or PTSD, 95% of the results are thirst edits on Tiktok about how hot he is. No joke. One of the more serious results is my own edit. Of course, a lot of people connect with his suffering without naming it as trauma, and that is great. My concern is that there has been so much focus on Jinx's trauma, Viktor's trauma, even Silco's trauma (which are all valid and fascinating to explore), but there's less attention for other characters who clearly show how their own traumatic experiences has shaped them. Vi, Caitlyn, and Jayce are some of the clearest examples of this, and they've experienced some truly heinous things in the show. Trauma cannot be compared, ever. But why is it that Jayce, who lived through an apocalypse that HE knows HE caused, and lives in complete isolation except the "company" of metal watchers, to the point that he loses touch with reality, and is changed so irrevocably that he loses the naivety and starry-eyed optimism that has always defined him...is seen as hot? And more importantly, why is it that there is very little attention to his experiences on that cave? Every scene between him and Viktor is uploaded in 1080 HD quality, but the scenes of him alone? Fighting to survive? Showing remarkable resilience in the face of his suffering? No, that's not as fun. Not a single one of those scenes is uploaded fully, and I have checked many times. (Some people have actually skipped those scenes to focus on Timebomb. I'm...)

I went online and looked up "why do people sexualize traumatized characters" because let's face it, it's real, it's interesting, and I cannot judge or else I am a hypocrite. Bucky Barnes, Loki, Ellie Williams, Dean Winchester, Vi herself, the list goes on much longer but I can't think of others off the top of my head. We connect with their suffering, and we are pulled by their experiences.

However, Jayce is such a complicated case because he is usually thought of as the greedy himbo that fumbled two baddies, or the confused bisexual, or the guy who lost it because of a situationship (much like Vi, who DID NOT lose it because of a failed romantic endeavor bfr). And then the plot goes and tells us, "Actually, yeah, his life outside of Viktor doesn't matter, he's not even supposed to be alive, because Viktor saved him. All of time is completely inextricable from Viktor." People hate meljay because she manipulated him and "trapped" him in a relationship or something, only to celebrate it when something suspiciously similar happens with the male romantic interest? I initially thought it was beautiful too, bc Soulmates, but man. Mage!Viktor really left the man he loved to rot in complete isolation, eating raw reptiles until throwing up, losing his mind. Say what you want about the allegory for Viktor's life, at least Viktor's isolation was metaphorical up until the Glorious Evolution.

Despite us being shown this, people make thirst edits of him in his black fit, and fighting with sexual tension with Viktor. I fear...that I am the only one who finds this tragic. The man forced to create a larger than life persona to sell his work and be seen as an attractive pawn of the system, has become the attractive pawn of the narrative. Viktor's narrative.

Perhaps Viktor was forgotten by the world. But Jayce's kind heart, and brave soul, were forgotten by us.

Just some thoughts to chew about my favorite character and my wish that more people focused on his arc with me

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 9>

word count: 3K

Sophia's POV:

I am in the makeup room with the female roster getting ready for the show. My outfit for today is a dark blue blazer dress and thigh high white boots with thin heels.

(not mine)

I am also wearing a necklace with a saphire on it and the same earrings. My grandma gave them to me when I graduated.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My smooth skin is ready for some makeup and I intend to do it myself this time since I don't wanna burden the makeup artist who has another looks to do.

I am trying so hard to get Roman out of my head after everything that happened last night but I just can't.

*flashback*

The car that Roman rented just left us in the big evergreen playfield. Although it's around 9pm, the lights are still working and you could see the empty seats.

"So this is the home stadium of Georgia Tech. It's called Bobby Dodd Stadium and it was built by students back in 1913. The oldest on-campus stadium in history." he explained to me and for a moment I thought I am on tour and he is the tour guide. His voice is so deep and smooth, this man can talk about anything and it will sound mesmerising.

"Woah." I exclaimed. "By students? That's impressive." I stated.

"Indeed." I felt him coming closer to me as we were walking. "By the way our team beat a lot of people here back in the day." I took a glance at him and he had that glow in his brown eyes filled with good memories.

"Really?" I asked with scepticism.

"Yes. Are you doubting your Tribal Chief?" he suddenly became a little annoyed and I tried not to laugh.

"No. How could I?" I replied dramatically.

"I'm a born winner, Sophia and I'm gonna die a winner." he declared with cold confidence.

"That could be used in a promo, too" my eyes widened.

"I honestly love your flair." Roman grinned.

"You do? People tend to find it annoying that I always have to involve work in everything." I spoke frankly.

"Nah, it's not annoying. I also tend to think about work a lot. When me and your uncle are together, we always scheme our next move. What should we do, what should we say to stand out from the rest. You are just exactly like him." Roman remarked and I looked down with a smile.

"Thank you for understanding my nature." I spoke softly and looked at him and he gave me that look signifying that it's not a big deal.

"I would like to thank you for spending time with an uncle like me." Roman put his hand on his chest and I started laughing loudly, not very demure.

"Stop." I slightly hit his arm. "I have only one uncle and his name is Paul Heyman." I said with the wisewoman tone.

"But I'm an uncle too. I have a lot of nephews."

"You are from those hot single uncles." I teased him and I swear he definitely blushed.

"Hot?" he asked again and giggled. "You think I'm hot?"

I looked at him with dead eyes.

"Don't act like the guy that used to play here doesn't know."

He sighed. "Back then...when was it? Twenty years ago. I was thinking differently. I was a completely different person." he looked down.

"Me too. I was almost seven years old." I replied and he looked at me with horror.

"Oh my God." Roman put his hand on his forehead and he suddenly changed his expression. "Almost seven you say? So you are almost 27 now?

"Don't remind me." I playfully scolded him.

"No. That means your birthday is soon. When is it?" Roman seemed very interested to know when my birthday is and he is not going to believe what I'm about to tell him.

"February 14th." I responded and his mouth dropped slightly.

"On Valentine's Day?!" he exclaimed and put his fist in front of his mouth.

"Yup. When is yours?" I kinda know his zodiac sign but I don't know the date.

"May 25th."

"Oh so you are a Gemini. That explains a lot." I concluded and he suddenly seemed confused.

"Why? What does it explain?"

"Geminis are usually clever and sharp minded. And two-faced."

"I'm not two faced." he sounded offended and I laughed but when I looked again he genuinely seemed pissed off and maybe he was ready to chase me, so I started running with my high heels on.

Knowing that I have zero chance with these shoes while a literal athlehe is chasing me, he caught me in less than a minute.

He caught me from behind wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me right to his body and then turned me around with his arms being in the same position.

"Why am I two-faced?" he asked me again with almost very normal breath cause that was basically nothing for him while I was trying to catch mine for a bit but it's also because I am very close to him right now and I can feel the tension rising.

"Because you tend to have several personalities. I noticed you can switch up very fast from one mood to another." I finally explained to him while we were staring at each other.

"That's just how I am." he responded calmly.

"See? Two seconds ago you wanted to kill me and now you are calm again." I giggled and rested my arms on his shoulders.

"I wanna do a lot of things to you and kill you is nowhere near the list, Soph." he said quietly and it got me wondering.

"Well, what's on the list then?" I pouted my lips while looking directly at him and he leaned to kiss my forehead in the softest way possible but his thick beard tickled my skin.

Oh my God.

Clearly, I didn't expect that. It's cold outside but I swear to God, I could feel my cheeks burning and becoming red as a tomato.

I looked down out of shyness not knowing what to say which as we know is a very rare state for me.

I felt him putting my hands away from his shoulders and grabbing them in his instead. I looked back at him.

My hands disappear from sight compared to his. He probably felt how cold they are, so he brought them to his face and kissed them as well.

"Damn, you are cold." he stated and I felt like I will explode any second right here and right now.

He is really driving me crazy right now and my question is does he plan to kiss me on the mouth or he is just playing with me.

Roman started rubbing them and I felt warmer but it could be due to the high pressure in my whole body.

"Yeah, ever since I remember myself during winter I have a poor blood flow and even if I'm inside, my hands and feet are always cold." I finally spoke.

"I'm gonna make sure I buy you warm socks and gloves then, okay?" Roman pressed his lips while I could see a slight concern in his eyes.

I laughed softly.

"Okay." I responded and then we stood there staring holes through each other, examining each other's faces.

He really has that masculine mature look and it does something to me for sure. Who would've thought? I've seen this man a lot on TV with my uncle yet I never felt anything but yeah, this is basically me. I don't see it immediately but when I do, there is no turning back.

In no way I would have imagined myself with a man like him. Slowly but surely, I am starting to. The way he is looking at me is nothing I can compare with since no one has ever looked at me like that.

All my life I have received many different looks from men and I could read through their eyes that they want nothing but sex from me.

The look in Roman's eyes right now is really far from that. I can see deep care and even a slight nervousness.

"Your lips are very beautiful, by the way." he remarked, seperating me from my profound thought process I was just having.

"Thank you." I replied quietly. My hands were still buried in his. "Yours are probably beautiful too, but can't really see them from that beard." I chuckled.

"What do you mean?" he got a bit offended and pouted his lips like a little duck. Yes, they are very pretty, I got the point.

I lifted my toes up and pecked the pouty lips of the Undisputed Champion.

He seemed completely shocked from my action. His eyeballs are probably gonna jump out any second and I just smirked and bit my lower lip.

My turn to leave him speechless.

"Is this on the list?" I asked and he completely changed his expression. From surprised it became thorough.

"Yeah. It is." he responded quietly. "But now I want more." he attacked my lips, locking them in with his, slowly devouring them until I slightly opened my mouth and he slid his tongue in it. I felt like I'm levitating for a second until I got back to my senses and kissed him back with my tongue battling his.

Okay, he is a good kisser. No surprise there. His lips definitely feel good and that tingling feeling from his beard is even enhancing the whole experience.

After a while we broke the kiss and stared at each other, knowing we both want more.

Roman had stains of my red lipstick on his mouth and moustache.

"Red lips look good on you." I stated and then I realized my lips must be smudged too but that didn't stop me from licking them and feeling the sweet aftertaste from Roman's kiss.

I finally seperated my hands from his. During this whole time they've been sitting like that and I rubbed the lip stains out of his mouth.

His lips are indeed very soft to the touch and I'm lowkey jealous, not gonna lie. Does he even put a lip balm on?

Then he gave me that lustful look since I know he is definitely going wild on the inside and he wants to kiss me again but something is restraining him.

"You just shared a kiss with the football boy. Your high school self wouldn't be very proud." Roman said with realization.

I gave him the dead look.

"That was for all the football team you once rejected." he added and I rolled my eyes, laughing at him.

"Shut up and kiss me again." I said and he didn't wait for second invitation for tasting my lips.

*end of flashback*

This was so magical. I honestly have no idea what happened to me. He just makes me feel comfortable while giving me heart attacks from time to time.

"Sophiaaa." the voices of Tiffany and Samantha trying to get me back on Earth startled me.

"What's up with you?" Sam asked.

"I'm just a bit tired from the ride." I fake yawned. "Couldn't really sleep last night."

"Is this cause the Tribal Chief didn't let you sleep?" Tiff teased me and I looked at her with playfully mad expression.

"No. I slept alone. As I always do." I lied. I know they are my colleagues and that we became friends but I don't want anyone to know what's going on between us.

1) Because everything is still very fresh 2) I don't want me or Roman to be perceived in the wrong way since I have no idea how would people react to all of this.

Roman's POV:

I am sitting in the room with my cousins and I just told them about what happened last night with Sophia.

"I swear to God, I feel like a young boy again." I giggled and saw Jimmy and Solo exchanging weird looks between each other.

"Yeah. That's the effect of being with a younger woman." Jon crossed his arms.

"There is a reason you brought her to your college field. You wanted to feel the spirit of your younger self, so you can get brave enough and kiss her since you know deep in you that all of this is wrong." Yoko just psycho analyzed me and I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

They just had to rain on my parade, huh? Why do they do it? It's like I'm doing a crime or something.

"Sophia is a grown woman. If she didn't want me, I would know." I responded.

*flashback*

We started getting ready for bed. While Soph was dressing up with her pajamas in the bathroom, I put mine which is grey Nike sweatpants, no shirt. Just abs.

Suddenly I heard the bathroom door opened and Sophia came in front of me wearing a baby pink silk nightdress that wasn't very long. It was exposing her beautiful long lean legs and cupping her round perfect sized breast. Looking all natural and everything.

Maybe it was a mistake to put on gray sweatpants because I swear to God, I feel like I will get a boner.

"Let's brush our teeth together. We have two sinks." she suggested innocently flashing her beautiful grin at me and I just followed her to the bathroom.

Joseph, you can do this. You are a strong man not only physically but mentally.

As a man, I think I've mastered ignoring my intrusive thoughts but right now they are yelling at me.

Is Sophia wearing any lingerie beneath this? If not, it would take just a slight pull and-

"Why are you standing there?" she snapped me out of my thoughts as she put a toothpaste on her toothbrush.

I sighed and got to the sink.

"You are just so incredibly beautiful." I said the truth.

"Thank you." she replied sweetly and then started brushing her teeth.

I did the same thing but when I glanced at my left to look at her I saw that her breasts were slightly bouncing and then she spat the toothpaste in the sink, leaving a little on her lips.

I am actually no better than boys her age, just realized this. I have to prove that I am though.

I'm gonna try my best to keep my composure and keep the intrusive thoughts away. I turned to my previous position and tried not to think about how I want to haunt her on that very bathroom sink or in the shower cabin.

A loud thud shook me off my own sinful thoughts. Soph just dropped her toothpaste and was about to bend down to grab it but if she does that, I will see her lingerie and I'm afraid I will get an erection and it's gonna get insanely awkward.

"No." I growled in concern and swiftly bent over to grab it. "Here you are" I grinned at her and she seemed very confused.

"Thank you." she replied. "I was way closer to it, I could have done it alone, though."

"It's a psychological fact that if you don't help the person next to you lift something they dropped, means you don't care. I just wanted to show you that I care about you." I said a generally accepted truth.

She still seemed slightly confused.

"Well, you are showing me with another actions but thank you." she just said.

...

We were ready to go to sleep but honestly I have zero idea how I'm gonna do that knowing that the most beautiful and hot woman is in the same room with me.

Maybe this wasn't a very good idea. I am literally testing my limits. Is it possible that she is doing all of this on purpose to test my intentions or she just really wears sexy nightgowns to sleep?

Suddenly I am jealous of her boyfriends. I don't care what they are, who they are, they clearly didn't deserve a woman like Sophia. I don't know what they must have done in their previous lives.

But let's focus on the present. Now she is in a hotel room with me, she kissed me and she thinks I am hot.

"Will I get a good night kiss?" Sophia asked innocently.

I would give her a goodnight di-

"Of course." I replied and went to her bed. Then I leaned to her and placed a small peck on her soft lips.

"Just that?" she looked a bit disappointed. Yup, that woman is putting me to the test.

"Look, little lady. If we go deeper, I will go deeper, you know what I'm saying? Let's keep it PG." I playfully threatened her.

"Oh, I love men with self control." she purred and bit her lips.

Fuck it.

I leaned in to kiss her again but this time it was more aggressive and I got slightly over her making sure I am not hurting her with my weight and she softly placed her hands on my naked chest.

Now we got our minty breaths mixed up and it's amazing. It's also amazing how her tongue syncs with mine.

I broke the kiss and then she looked at me with fiery eyes like she accomplished something.

Earlier I described her as an angel but Sophia may be a devil in disguise.

*end of flashback*

"You are mine now, hope you know that." I said quietly almost whispering and went to bed.

"Look at him all smiling and shit." I heard my cousins gossiping about me...in front of me.

"Don't forget you have to be mad for later, uce." Jimmy reminded me.

"Yeah no shit." I responded with sarcasm. "You two are definitely helping me with that, though" I stated and put the classic grumpy Tribal Chief face again.

[sidekick-hero]

Sing Me A Love Song

rating: t | cw: none | wc: 5.6 k | tags: fluff, modern au, love songs, first love, bartender Steve and Eddie, platonic hellcheer

AO3 LINK

My fill for the @steddielovemonth Day 1. Prompts: 🎵 You and Me - Lifehouse and ❣️"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." - Plato

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." - Plato

“You don’t understand,” Eddie groans, raking a hand through his curls. “If I don’t get this done, I might lose my contract.”

Chrissy doesn’t look impressed. She wipes down the counter in front of him, barely sparing him a glance. “I still think you’re being dramatic. You already have, what, ten songs? Isn’t that enough for an album?”

God, he wishes she were right. She should be right. Ten songs isn’t a lot, but it’s enough. Maybe he could throw in a cover, remaster one of his old tracks, stretch it to eleven. A solid number. A prime number, even—Jesus, he really needs to stop talking to Jeff.

But none of that matters. Because the problem isn’t the number.

The problem is the clause in his contract that requires one of those songs to be a love song.

Why did he agree to that? Oh, right. Desperation.

He needed the deal. Needed the money. Because Wayne’s life depends on it. And if Eddie can’t pay for his treatment, his uncle—the one person who’s always been there for him—will die.

So, yeah. It was either this record deal or selling a kidney in Tijuana.

“It’s not enough, Chris. I need one more song. And it’s like—” He exhales sharply, gripping his hair. “It’s like I’ve never written music before. My head’s empty, my hands are clumsier than a toddler’s, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t fail. I just can’t.”

That finally makes Chrissy pause. She sets down the rag, brows drawing together as her bright blue eyes search his face. “Eddie… this doesn’t sound like it’s just about an album.”

The bar is empty. No one’s here to overhear when he finally breaks.

Wayne’s diagnosis. The impossible cost of his treatment. The record label that dropped him like a bad habit the second he was outed—one stupid drunken mistake and suddenly, he was toxic. The desperate, humiliating scramble to find a new label, the rejection after rejection until he finally landed in Chicago, closer to Wayne, signing this contract.

Signing that clause.

Chrissy listens without interrupting, her hands folded over his. When he’s done, she exhales.

“A love song? Why would they insist on a love song?”

Eddie shrugs. “Something about bad boys with a secret soft side pulling in fans.”

She snorts. Loudly.

“Oi!”

“Eddie, sweetie.” Her grin is infuriating. “When I first met you during our shift, I thought you’d be mean and scary. But the moment you tried to slide over the bar and ate shit instead? Yeah. I knew you were just a giant dork.”

It’s impossible to fight off the answering grin tugging at his lips.

“I should be offended, but you’re not wrong. Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Chrissy hops onto the bar, swinging her legs as she leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Then, more gently, “Look, don’t overthink it. Just write about the first guy you fell in love with. First love’s always a hit.”

Yeah. If only it were that simple.

“Great idea. Know any guys willing to fill that spot?”

Chrissy blinks. “Wha—” She stops, eyes narrowing as she really looks at him. “Wait. Are you— Is this your way of telling me you’ve never been in love?”

Eddie gives her finger guns. “Ding, ding, ding! The pretty young lady wins the jackpot.”

She just stares at him. Eddie braces himself, expecting pity, but all he finds in her eyes is warmth. Understanding.

Chrissy exhales. “Well. Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bartending wasn’t exactly the glamorous, fame-laden career Eddie had dreamed of. But it was something he was surprisingly good at—always had been. Even back in high school, when he worked at the local dive bar just to buy himself and his band a weekly gig.

More importantly, though, it paid the bills.

Most of the first half of his record deal advance had gone straight to Wayne’s medical expenses. A small chunk covered recording costs, but food and rent were a whole different story. Maybe, if he actually delivers this album, the rest of the money will be enough to buy himself a place. But that’s a big if.

So, for now, bartending it is. It keeps a roof over his head, food in his fridge, and—maybe the best part—it gave him his first real friend in this city: Chrissy.

She keeps him sane on the bad days, when the anxiety sinks its teeth into him and won’t let go. And when he told her the embarrassing truth about his love life—or complete lack thereof—she had been nothing but kind. She offered tips, boosted his ego with her sheer bewilderment that someone like him had never been in love, and insisted it was only a matter of time.

Eddie isn’t so sure.

Most of his time is spent combing through Wayne’s medical reports or checking in with his nurse. He calls every day. Visits three times a week, taking the long trip back to rural Indiana to be with the only real father figure he’s ever had.

His nights—except Tuesdays and Wednesdays—are spent at the bar. Sure, plenty of the regulars are hot, and a few of them are actually nice, but Eddie isn’t naïve. He doesn’t expect to show up to work one day and suddenly have the man of his dreams stroll right up to him and say—

“Hello? Are you Eddie, by any chance?”

Eddie looks up from where he’s been taking stock of the liquor and locks eyes with the most ridiculously gorgeous pair of hazel eyes he’s ever seen.

It’s like grabbing a live wire. A jolt of electricity races through him, buzzing under his skin, making his heart slam against his ribs and his stomach do an actual, literal flip.

What the fuck is happening?

“I—uhm, yeah, that’s Eddie. Me. I mean—me is Eddie. Goddammit.” He squeezes his eyes shut for half a second, mentally kicking himself. “I’m Eddie. That’s right. How can I help you?”

The guy in front of him looks like he’s this close to laughing, biting down on a full bottom lip, hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. But he holds back, tilting his head slightly before offering a warm, easy smile.

“I’m Steve. Steve Harrington? Chrissy said she’d give you a call—told you I’d be covering for her for the next six weeks.”

She had done no such thing. Eddie would remember if she had.

Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t heard from her all day. Not that they text constantly, but there’s always something—a meme, a random thought, a conversation that drags out over days. It’s Thursday now, and the last time they talked was Tuesday night, when she asked about Wayne.

His stomach twists.

“From the look on your face, she hasn’t done that.”

Eddie exhales. “Uh, no. No, she hasn’t. What happened? Why does she need someone to cover for her?”

Six weeks. That sounds serious. That sounds… bad.

Steve’s expression softens, but his voice is firm. “It’s not my place to say, I’m afraid.”

That just makes Eddie’s anxiety spike. He should appreciate that Steve is protecting Chrissy’s privacy—normally, he would—but right now, it’s just frustrating. Besides, Chrissy has never mentioned a Steve before. And he tells the guy as much.

Steve nods like he expected that. “She’s a friend of my best friend and roommate, Robin. That’s how we met. She asked me to help out, and that’s all I can tell you, man. I’m sorry.”

He does sound sorry. And Eddie does care about Chrissy, which means he needs to talk to her, not interrogate some guy she apparently trusts enough to take her place.

Steve must read something in his face because he adds, “If you want to call her, I can handle things here. Just tell me what to do.”

It sounds more like a question than an offer, like Steve isn’t sure where he stands and doesn’t want to overstep. Eddie has always had a problem with authority, with people telling him what to do. Steve doesn’t know that, but it still rubs him the wrong way for half a second—until he realizes Steve isn’t telling him anything. He’s offering.

Eddie hesitates for a beat, then exhales sharply and nods. "Yeah, okay. Thanks. Just start by restocking the bar—I’ll show you how to place an order for liquor and supplies when I get back."

Right now, he needs to hear Chrissy’s voice. Needs to know she’s okay. Everything else can wait.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out that Chrissy’s asshole of a boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now, thank fuck—had grabbed her so hard during a fight that he broke her wrist. The only good thing about it was that it had finally been the last straw for Chrissy. She kicked his sorry ass to the curb.

Eddie had hated Jason from the second he walked into the bar, all possessive grip and territorial bullshit. Throw in the holier-than-thou attitude, the obsession with “purity” and Christian values, and the way he sneered at Eddie the moment Chrissy’s back was turned? Yeah. He saw this coming from a mile away.

They talk for a few minutes, and Eddie promises to stop by her place tomorrow. He’ll bring ice cream, they’ll watch some cheesy rom-com, and he’ll do whatever it takes to cheer her up.

When he walks back into the bar, his face must be as thunderous as he feels because Steve actually winces.

“She told you what happened, huh?”

Eddie nods, grinding his teeth. “Fucking asshole. I wish I’d run him over with my van when I had the chance.”

Steve doesn’t even blink. “Amen to that. Robin’s already plotting his demise. You two should team up. I volunteered to get rid of the body, because Robin’s not exactly… athletic. Can’t dig deep holes, can’t lift heavy stuff. But she’s scary smart—probably knows some undetectable poison or something. What’s your specialty?”

Eddie hates what happened to Chrissy. Hates that she had to go through it. But hearing Steve talk like this, hearing how much her friends care? It makes him feel a little better. And the fact that he’s apparently included in this unhinged murder plot now? Yeah.

Maybe he got lucky, after all.

“I’m creative and ridiculously good at planning—years of being a Dungeon Master. No one thinks of as many scenarios as I do. I’ll cover every possibility. They’ll never catch us.”

They grin at each other, and for the first time since hearing Chrissy’s small, shaken voice, Eddie feels like himself again.

Steve grins. “Perfect. We’ll make a great team.”

And just like that, the weight on Eddie’s chest lifts a little. It’s easy with Steve, like they’ve known each other longer than just—what, an hour? He’s funny, sharp, and clearly good to the people he cares about.

And, well. It doesn’t hurt that he’s stupidly attractive.

They slip into working together without much effort. Eddie shows Steve the ropes while stealing little glances when he thinks the other man isn’t looking—at the way his fingers move deftly around the bottles, the smooth way he leans against the bar when talking to customers, the stretch of his arms when he reaches for a glass on the top shelf.

He’s a natural. Charismatic as hell, too. More than one customer lingers just a little longer when Steve serves them, and Eddie is absolutely not annoyed by that. Nope. Not at all.

“You know,” Steve says at one point, when the rush has died down, “you’re not bad at this.”

Eddie scoffs, tossing a bar rag over his shoulder. “Not bad? Please. I’m great at this.”

Steve hums, eyes twinkling. “If you say so. I guess I’ll have to stick around to see for myself.”

There’s something in his voice, something that makes heat curl in Eddie’s stomach. A challenge. A tease. A promise, maybe.

Eddie leans in, close enough to catch a hint of cologne and something unmistakably Steve. "Yeah?” he murmurs, smirking. “Guess you will.”

The air crackles between them, heavy and charged, until a customer clears their throat and pulls them back to reality.

Eddie straightens, fighting back a grin as he goes to take the order.

He has a feeling working with Steve is going to be very interesting.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out he was right—working with Steve is definitely interesting. It’s also confusing and exhilarating. And, honestly? It’s driving him insane.

Steve is everything Eddie never knew he wanted or needed. None of the guys Eddie’s ever hooked up with or tried dating were even close to being like Steve. And maybe that had been his mistake all along.

Because Steve makes him feel things he didn’t even know he could feel. He catches himself daydreaming about kissing the moles on Steve’s neck and face, wondering what it would be like to run his fingers along the smooth line of his jaw. He catches himself thinking about what he could ask Steve next, wanting to learn more and more about him. Eddie wants to make him laugh, wants to tell Steve about his day, about the last book he read, ask him what he thinks of a certain song or movie.

It’s like every little moment with Steve only deepens the curiosity, the pull. And Eddie can’t seem to stop himself from wanting more.

And yet, he can’t bring himself to take it any further than the harmless flirting they’ve been doing. Steve never seems to mind Eddie’s over-the-top flirting—calling him pet names, throwing himself at his feet dramatically, draping himself over Steve and acting like personal space is a suggestion, not a boundary.

One night, after another intense moment between them, the air crackling with something Eddie can’t quite name, he comes home, sits down, and writes it all out. He lets all these feelings he doesn’t even really understand pour onto the page. Every thought, every feeling—the longing and wonder, the joy and insanity of liking someone, wanting someone so much it’s almost physical.

A few weeks ago, he would’ve been bouncing off the walls with excitement at having written his first love song.

Now? He has a hard time bringing himself to care, because all he wants is to tell Steve these things. To have the courage to look into those beloved hazel eyes and make Steve understand the depth of what Eddie feels for him.

Now, all Eddie wants is to take Steve home and never let him go.

That’s why he’s struggling to feel as joyous as he should when Chrissy tells him she’ll be back next week.

Eddie’s wiping down the bar when Steve steps up, leaning against it with a casual ease that makes Eddie’s heart skip, like it always does when Steve’s close.

“Hey,” Steve says, a little more softly than usual. “You heard from Chrissy?”

Eddie pauses, glancing up, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s coming back next week. Gonna be back at the bar on Monday.”

“Ah, that’s great,” Steve says with a smile, but there’s something in his tone that doesn’t quite match the words.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem so excited.”

Steve shrugs, the movement casual but his gaze fixed on Eddie now. “I mean, I am. I’m glad she’s doing better. Just… I don’t know. Things’ve been good here, you know?”

Eddie’s pulse quickens, his mind racing. He knows exactly what Steve means. Things have been good. They’ve been intense—charged, even. And now, with Chrissy coming back, it feels like a door he’s been carefully edging toward might slam shut.

“Yeah, I get that,” Eddie says, trying to sound casual even though his throat feels tight. “It’s been… nice, having you here.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a smile, a little teasing. “Nice, huh? Just nice?”

Eddie meets his gaze then, the air between them thick with unspoken words. “Yeah. More than nice. I—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

Steve doesn’t let it slide. His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans in, his voice lowering. “No, come on. What were you gonna say?”

Eddie hesitates, heart pounding. He wants to say so much, but the weight of it is too much. Instead, he grabs a glass, fills it with water, and hands it to Steve, forcing a smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

But Steve isn’t buying it. He takes the glass, but his eyes stay locked on Eddie. “It does matter. You matter, Eddie.”

There’s a long silence, and Eddie feels like he’s about to drown in it. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“Hey,” Steve says, his voice softer now, “don’t worry about it. I get it. Chrissy’s your friend.”

Eddie nods, but it doesn’t feel like he’s actually hearing him. He’s still stuck on the fact that the connection between them has shifted somehow. And now, Chrissy coming back just feels like the beginning of the end of whatever this is.

But all Steve does is give him that reassuring smile, and for a moment, it feels like maybe he’s not as worried about it as Eddie is. Maybe.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Eddie murmurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Steve’s expression softens. “Me too, man.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

On Sunday, Eddie gets a visit from Chrissy. He’s just in his pajama bottoms, pouring himself a cup of coffee when the doorbell rings.

“Chris! What are you doing here?”

She steps into his flat, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek as she brushes past him. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just surprised to have you drop by like that. I’m always happy to see you, you know that.”

He follows her into the flat, where she’s already made herself at home at the kitchen island, pouring herself a cup as well.

“Yes, I know, I was just teasing you. I wanted to drop by to see how you’re doing.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow at work.” He tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but he probably doesn’t succeed. He really needs to work on his poker face.

Chrissy eyes him like she can see right through him, like maybe she’s already read his mind. Eddie knows better than to think she hasn’t. She’s sharp like that.

“Yeah, and something tells me you’re not doing so great because of that.”

That’s his girl—blunt and straight to the point. Eddie considers brushing it off, pretending he has no idea what she’s talking about, but he knows better. She deserves his honesty.

“No. I’m not really. Not because I don’t want you back,” he adds quickly, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “I missed you, Chris. Like crazy. You’re one of my best friends, and I’m so happy to have you back.”

She nods, her small hand curling over his in a comforting gesture. “But you don’t want Steve to go.”

“How—”

Her smile is soft and amused, like they’re in on some private joke together. “You’ve been talking about nothing but him for the past few weeks, Eds. I’ve never seen you take to anyone so fast. It took me months to get you to talk to me about anything but work. And you and Steve are sending each other memes and texts all day.”

Then, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, she adds, “Besides, you should see your face when you talk about him. I’m just waiting for you to start twirling your hair or kicking your feet.”

“Shut up! I’m not doing that.”

“Might as well be, with the way you’re acting. You like him.” She singsongs.

Burying his face in his hands, Eddie groans dramatically. “God, I hate you.”

Chrissy pulls his hands away, her fingers warm as she gently makes him look at her. Her face is a picture of seriousness, though a hint of a smile still lingers at the corner of her lips. “No, you don’t. You just know I’m right. I told you it was only a matter of time until you fell for someone. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Eddie glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. He stays quiet, his eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for an escape. When he doesn’t say anything, she raises her brows, giving him that ‘I knew it’ look. “See? Now you can write your love song!”

He mutters something under his breath, too low for her to hear.

“What was that?”

“I said... I already did,” Eddie says, a little sheepish, but trying to keep his cool. “It’s actually pretty good, I think. One of my best.”

Chrissy’s eyes light up, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Eddie, that’s awesome!”

Eddie shrugs, though his expression is far from pleased. “Yeah, but it’s not enough. He’s still leaving after tonight, and then... I’ll never see him again.”

Chrissy waves a hand like she’s brushing off a bad thought. “That’s such a load of crap, and you know it. We can totally visit him and Robin. I’ll invite them over! You’ll still get to hang out.”

Eddie sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe, but it’s not the same. I won’t see him every day, won’t have an excuse to talk to him, flirt with him. We’ll just be... acquaintances.”

Chrissy taps her chin, looking like she’s piecing things together in that genius way of hers. “Okay, but... have you ever thought about just telling him?”

“Stop saying that like it’s easy,” Eddie demands. Okay, whines. He’s aware he’s acting like a petulant child instead of a grown-ass 26-year-old, but honestly? He doesn’t care. This shit sucks. No wonder he never bothered with it before—falling for someone is exhausting.

“It could be,” Chrissy says with that maddening calm of hers, like she’s solving a simple math problem instead of his entire emotional crisis.

Eddie glares. “Oh yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well,” she says, taking a casual sip of her coffee like she’s not about to drop a bombshell, “it’s not like Steve isn’t talking about you just as much.”

“He is?” Eddie all but shrieks, and Chrissy winces at the sheer volume. He claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. He is?” he repeats, softer this time, though he still sounds way too giddy to play it cool.

Chrissy just laughs at him. “Yes, Edward. Steve talks about you, too. Or so I heard from Robin. And the few times we talked, he asked me questions about you.”

Eddie’s heart picks up speed, slamming against his ribs like it’s trying to break free. That’s something, right?

“What did he ask?” he presses, leaning forward like Chrissy is holding onto state secrets rather than just casual conversation.

She taps her chin, pretending to think it over. “Oh, just normal stuff. How long I’ve known you, what you did before coming to Chicago… if you’re single.”

Eddie freezes. The butterflies in his stomach go feral.

But then—like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head—another thought creeps in.

“Then why didn’t he make a move?” he asks, deflating just as quickly as he puffed up.

Chrissy just raises an unimpressed brow. “Why didn’t you?”

Fair.

“Because I’ve never dated anyone before,” Eddie admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Never felt like this for anyone before. I have no idea what I’m doing. I highly doubt Steve has been single all his life.”

Chrissy opens her mouth, then hesitates, like she’s conceding his point. Normally, Eddie loves to be right, but this time? He wants to be wrong. Wants Steve’s questions to mean something.

“I see your point, okay,” she finally says, then adds, “but maybe there’s something in Steve’s past that makes him cautious too. Ever think of that?”

Eddie frowns. “Like what?”

Chrissy’s face softens. “It’s not my place to say,” she says gently. “Let’s just say… love can hurt. And if you’ve been burned before, it makes you scared to touch the stove again.”

Eddie’s chest tightens, both at the thought of Steve getting hurt and at the way Chrissy’s voice dips—because she’s speaking from experience, too. Without thinking, he reaches for her, pulling her into a tight hug. Her head tucks neatly under his chin, her small frame warm against him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” he murmurs. “You deserved better.”

She nods against his chest. “Yeah. And I’ll get over it. Just need some time. Just like Steve, probably. Maybe he’s not sure if he’s ready to let someone in again, you know?”

Eddie does know. Letting someone in after you've experienced the pain of losing someone, of mourning the presence someone once had in your life, it's scary as hell.

But maybe… just maybe… it’s worth the risk.

“I think I have an idea,” he says, and really hopes he’ll be brave enough to follow through.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their last shift together goes by way too fast.

It’s weird. Like Eddie’s waiting for something to happen, anything. He doesn’t know what exactly—except that’s a lie. He does know.

He wants Steve to kiss him. Wants Steve to grab him, lift him onto the bar top, step between his legs, and cradle his face in those steady hands before finally—finally—giving him a first kiss that means something.

More than that, he wants Steve to tell him. That Eddie’s not crazy, not alone in this. That he feels it too—this maddening, electric pull that makes Eddie’s knees weak, makes his stomach flip, makes his heart hammer against his ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Steve does none of those things.

Instead, they pour drinks, chat with the regulars, do their jobs. And when the night winds down—when the last stool is flipped onto the tables, the floors are swept, and Eddie flicks off the lights—they step outside and fall into each other’s arms without a single word.

They hold on for far longer than what anyone would call normal.

Fuck normal, Eddie thinks, tightening his grip around Steve’s solid frame. Normal never made me feel like this.

Steve exhales against his neck, his voice quiet but soaked in something Eddie can’t name. “I’ll miss this,” he murmurs. “I’ll miss you.”

Say it, Eddie begs in his head. Please. Just say you feel this too.

But Steve doesn’t.

Eddie wishes that he were brave, wishes that he could bridge the metaphorical gap between the two of them by simply taking a leap of faith.

But he doesn’t.

So they pull away, exchanging promises to stay in touch, and Eddie walks away feeling like he just lost something he never even had.

Two weeks later, Eddie finds himself back at The Upside Down, waiting for Chrissy. But this time, he’s not behind the bar, taking stock of liquor bottles or wiping down counters.

He’s behind the curtain of the small stage they built at the far end of the bar, fidgeting with the strap of his guitar, his heart hammering and his hands shaking. The stage usually belongs to local bands on the weekends, filling the space with music that draws in bigger crowds.

But today is Monday. And behind the bar—his bar—is Steve, restocking the cabinets, just like he did the first time he stepped in to cover for Chrissy. Full circle, Eddie thinks, watching from the shadows.

Except this time, Steve is covering for Eddie.

Steve thinks Eddie had to leave for an emergency, an excuse Chrissy fed him about needing to see his uncle. Eddie isn’t exactly proud of using Wayne’s health as a pretext to lure Steve here under false pretenses. But what’s the saying?

All’s fair in love and war.

And if Eddie is going to do something about this mess of feelings, he’s going to do it in the way he knows best.

Through music.

“We’re ready,” Chrissy whispers, squeezing his arm. “Bar’s surprisingly full for a Monday, so don’t be nervous. The only thing that matters is getting your man.”

Eddie salutes her with a grin that’s only half forced. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Then, with a deep breath, he settles onto the small stool at center stage, guitar resting on his knee. The curtain pulls back, and suddenly, he’s bathed in the warm glow of the stage lights, staring out at the sea of faces in front of him.

But there’s only one face that matters.

His eyes find Steve instantly, standing behind the bar, frozen mid-motion with a bottle in his hand, wide-eyed and staring like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him.

Eddie taps the mic, wincing at the light thump it makes through the speakers. “Is this thing on? Yeah, sounds like it.” He clears his throat, nerves tightening in his chest. Here goes nothing.

“Hi, everybody. Some of you might know me as the guy who pours your drinks and listens to your problems, but tonight, I’m here as a humble musician playing a song.” His fingers flex around the neck of his guitar as he exhales. “A special song for a special someone.”

A ripple of murmurs runs through the crowd, but Eddie barely hears it. His pulse is pounding too loud in his ears.

“I ask you to be kind because—well, this is a love song. And I’ve never done that before.” He huffs a breathless laugh. “Written a love song, I mean. Or been in love.” His fingers tighten on the frets, his throat thick with something unnamed. “But then I met someone who changed all of that. Someone who makes me laugh even when I don’t want to. Who makes me want to rip my hair out with how much I want to touch and hold them.”

A beat of silence. His heart feels like it’s about to break his ribs.

“Someone who is kind and brave and quick-witted. A secret nerd.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “And the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

The room feels impossibly still. Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes on him now, burning, waiting. But he doesn’t dare look. If he meets those hazel eyes, he’s not sure he’ll make it through this without forgetting how to breathe.

He takes another shaky inhale, tilts his chin toward the mic. “So, yeah. Please be kind, because this is all new to me.”

And then—he plays.

All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right I'm tripping on words You've got my head spinning I don't know where to go from here 'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do Nothing to prove And it's you and me and all other people And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you

The last note fades into the air, leaving the bar in a thick, charged silence. For a split second, Eddie’s convinced he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life. His fingers hover over the strings, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat.

And then—

The bar erupts into applause.

Someone calls his name, and he thinks he hears Chrissy cheer Bravo but Eddie barely registers it because his brain is still trying to catch up.

But then he sees him.

Steve.

Still standing behind the bar, both hands braced against the counter like he needs the support. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes wide and shining in the dim lighting. And then Steve runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head in what looks like pure disbelief, and laughs.

Not a mean laugh. Not a nervous one. A stunned, overwhelmed, delighted kind of laugh.

Eddie barely has time to put his guitar down before Steve moves.

He pushes past the bar, past the regulars clapping him on the back, eyes locked onto Eddie like there’s no one else in the damn room. Eddie stands frozen on stage, unsure what’s about to happen but aching for whatever it is.

And then Steve’s there, grabbing Eddie’s face in his hands and kissing him.

It’s not a shy, hesitant kiss. It’s everything. Warm, firm, desperate. Steve’s lips press against Eddie’s like he’s making up for lost time, and Eddie melts into it without hesitation, gripping Steve’s waist like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.

The bar goes wild.

Someone catcalls. Eddie hears Chrissy’s delighted I knew it! but all of it is background noise to the way Steve feels against him, the way his fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair, the way he lingers even as they finally—reluctantly—pull apart just enough to breathe.

Steve's forehead presses against Eddie's, his voice barely a whisper. "Please tell me that song was for me. Otherwise this is going to get awkward very quickly."

Eddie's laugh is joyous, relief palpable in every tone. "Of course. Who else would it be about?"

"I don't know, I've seen the looks you give Herbert," Steve grins, his eyebrows wagging. God, Eddie loves him.

Eddie kisses him again. "No, unfortunately my heart is set on you. Does your reaction to my song mean you feel the same?"

“You idiot,” Steve murmurs, but he’s smiling. Grinning. “You really think you’re the only one who feels this?”

Eddie exhales a laugh, overwhelmed and dizzy and so stupidly happy he can’t stand it. “I dunno,” he rasps. “You never said anything.”

Steve huffs, nudging their noses together. “Neither did you.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, well. I wrote a song instead.”

Steve shakes his head, laughing again, and kisses him once more—just because he can.

[deezee112]

The worst ending 17 : Digital Chains

The worst ending 16 | The worst ending 18

Yandere!Idia Shroud x GN!Reader

A/N : The ending was so bad I don't know why. I was like, huh and huh. How did I do that? Excuse me?

If you finish reading it and feel confused about it, that's okay, I'm confused too ( and I don't like it -_- )

Warning : psychological horror , digital imprisonment, and loss of autonomy. It explores manipulation , isolation , and an unsettling descent into , A writer who is very lazy because he has too much work to do.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The dim glow of a computer monitor flickered against the walls, casting strange, shifting shadows. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the small boy curled up in front of the screen, his bright blue hair glowing faintly in the darkness. He had been quiet since you brought him home—never speaking, never responding to your questions. He only tilted his head when you called out to him, as if processing the words like a machine booting up for the first time.

" You don't have a name, do you? " you asked softly, reaching out a hand toward him.

The boy turned to face you, his golden eyes wide and glowing like embers in the dim room. He didn’t speak. He only blinked slowly, as if waiting for you to continue.

" Then I'll give you one. " you said, offering him a smile. " Idia. How about that? "

He tilted his head again, then slowly, cautiously, a small smile stretched across his lips. He nodded once.

" Idia it is. " you murmured, relieved. " I hope we can stay together. "

Raising Idia was unlike anything you had experienced before. At first, he was silent, expressing himself only through slight nods, shrugs, and the occasional twitch of his lips. But as time passed, and as he spent more time glued to the screen, he began to mimic the voices from his games—first in short, awkward phrases, then in full sentences.

" You need to get out of your room sometimes, Idia. " you scolded one afternoon, standing in his doorway with your arms crossed.

" I'm grinding... " he muttered without looking away from the screen, fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard.

" You've been grinding for three days straight. "

" So close to max level... "

" Idia— "

" I'm in the zone, y/n! "

His voice had that mix of dramatic desperation and excitement that only a true gamer could muster. You sighed, rubbing your temples.

" This isn't healthy. You need sunlight. "

" Vitamin D supplements exist. " he countered.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his legs, dragging him toward the doorway.

" W-Wait! No! I'm going to the room! " he shouted, clawing at the doorframe in sheer panic. His fingers tightened their grip with a strength fueled by desperation. With one last burst of effort, he twisted free and scrambled back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Damn...

If Idia had one weakness, it was his love for instant noodles. Every night, long after you had gone to bed, you would hear the soft creak of his door, the shuffle of slippered feet, and the rustle of plastic as he rummaged through the kitchen.

One night, you decided to catch him in the act. You waited in the dark, listening to the familiar sound of the microwave beeping. The second he tore open the lid, you flipped on the lights.

" Aha! "

Idia flinched, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. " y/n—! "

Before he could react, you snatched the noodles from his hands.

" Don't take it! " he wailed, immediately lunging forward and wrapping his arms around your leg like a child throwing a tantrum.

" You need to eat real food, Idia. " you chided, lifting the noodles out of his reach.

" These are real food! "

" You need vegetables. Protein. Not just sodium and regret. "

He clung to your leg with the strength of a desperate man, burying his face into your knee. " Please, I'll die without it! "

" You won't. " you deadpanned.

He groaned dramatically but eventually let go, shuffling back to his room in defeat. You placed the noodles back in the pantry, shaking your head.

This boy was hopeless..

As the years passed, Idia’s attachment to you deepened. He was still a recluse, still reluctant to leave his room, but he always kept tabs on you. Whether it was through cameras he secretly installed around the apartment or through hacked security feeds, he always knew where you were.

It was subtle at first—offhanded comments about what you were doing, even when he wasn’t in the room. But then, he started interfering.

" y/n, you shouldn’t go to the convenience store today. " he said one morning, not looking up from his laptop.

" Why not? "

" There’s a…um, 73% chance of encountering creeps today. Just stay home. "

You narrowed your eyes. " How do you even know that? "

" Instincts. " he said quickly, hiding his screen.

It was creepy, but you figured he just worried about you. After all, he didn’t have much experience socializing.

If only you had realized sooner.

One day, Idia’s behavior became noticeably strange. He stopped gaming as much. He barely spoke. He didn’t even attempt to sneak out for noodles. He just…watched you.

" Idia, are you feeling okay? " you asked, peeking into his room.

He sat at his desk, unmoving, his golden eyes flickering with unreadable emotions. He didn’t respond immediately.

Finally, he murmured, " I had a nightmare. "

" What kind of nightmare? " you asked gently, stepping closer.

" One where you left me. " he whispered. " Where you disappeared. And I couldn’t bring you back. "

You sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. " Idia, that’s not going to happen. "

He let out a bitter laugh. " You say that, but humans are unpredictable. Reality is unfair. If I could just…keep you here forever… "

Something in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

" Idia… "

His fingers twitched. " I found a way to make sure you never leave. "

One night, you woke up with a splitting headache, your body feeling heavy and unresponsive. The room around you was unfamiliar—cold, metallic, filled with blinking screens. A monitor in front of you flickered to life, revealing Idia’s face.

" Ah…You’re awake. " he murmured, his golden eyes glowing softly.

" Idia…? What’s going on? "

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. " Okay, so, um. Don’t be mad. But I kinda…uploaded your consciousness into a digital simulation. "

Your blood ran cold. " You what...? "

" You kept trying to leave, y/n. " he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. " I couldn’t risk it. So I made sure you’d always be here. With me. "

You struggled, but your body wouldn’t move.

" Don’t worry. " he continued, his tone almost soothing. " I made it nice. Just like our home. You won’t even notice the difference after a while. "

Panic surged through you. " Idia, this isn’t right! You can’t— "

" But I can. " he interrupted. " And I did. "

The screen flickered, distorting his face into static. " You’re mine now, y/n. Forever. "

And just like that, the simulation closed in around you. A perfect, digital world where you would never escape. Where Idia would always be watching.

Smiling.

Waiting.

Loving you in the only way he knew how.

[theoryofwhatnow]

i suppose it’s no different from the fans who watched the film strictly because of tom sturridge and extend no further interest towards it beyond that. there’s a clear difference and divide between people who appreciate a movie for an actor versus the film itself, but such is true for practically any film-fandom.

regardless, everyone is welcome as long as they remain respectful.

does anyone else feel the disconnect in like minds fans between those who joined through eddie redmayne in day of the jackal and those who found the film through other means like i don’t know what it is but i can feel the difference in my bones

[moonmaiden1996]

How would Law and Sanji deal with embarrasing sex-fails (like cumming before entering or loud farting)? 😄

Okay...I did not expect to love writing this one but OMG I DID!!! I am seriously thinking about writing more.

Trafalgar D. Water Law – The "Pretend It Didn't Happen" Approach

Law prides himself on being calm, composed, and in control. But if something embarrassing happens during sex? Oh, this man will mentally leave his own body.

He’s deep in the moment, pupils blown, voice low and raspy—he’s got you right where he wants you. And then?

Boom. Over before he even enters. Just a sticky puddle taunting him

Absolute silent panic. This is worse than death.

He freezes, processing what just happened. He doesn’t even blink. For a good five seconds, you might think he straight-up died. And then? He acts like it didn’t happen.

"Tch… That was just a test run." 😤 "Give me five minutes."

Cue him rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling, regretting everything. He’s already running medical calculations in his head to figure out the fastest way to recover.

Does he make a self-deprecating joke? Nope. Does he acknowledge it? Absolutely not. Instead, he just stares at you like he’s daring you to say something.

Good luck holding in your laughter.

Imagine: You’re tangled up, things are getting heated, bodies pressed real close—and then…

PPPPPPFFFFTTT 💨

Law’s soul leaves his body instantly.

He stops. Just stops. Entirely still. Not even breathing.

"…That was your fault." He blames you immediately. Doesn’t matter if it was clearly him—he is the Surgeon of Death, and he will gaslight his way out of this.

If you laugh? Oh, he’s furious. Face in his hands, ears red, muttering "Why does this shit happen to me?" under his breath. He will refuse eye contact for the rest of the night.

If you try to comfort him? He’ll grumble something about digestion, bodily functions, and muscle contractions to make it sound scientific. Still embarrassed, but now nerdy about it.

Conclusion: Law cannot handle sex-fails. If one happens, he needs time to recover and possibly die inside a little. His overdramatic but quiet drama.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sanji – The "Dramatic Overreaction" Approach

Sanji is a man of passion, charm, and romance—but if something embarrassing happens in the bedroom? This man will lose his damn mind.

You’ve got Sanji all worked up—whispering dirty things in his ear, pressing against him, teasing. He’s already panting, body shaking with anticipation, and just as he’s about to enter— Game over.

This man CRIES. 😭💀

Drops face-first into your chest and just wails into your skin like he’s been personally betrayed by the universe. "Mon Amor… this is a DISASTER!!" 😩 "I didn’t even… I couldn’t even—!!"

He clutches his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. Kicks his legs under the sheets. He physically collapses. This man is full-body trembling like he’s in the middle of a Shakespearean tragedy. "I have failed you as a man." 😔💔

You’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, but Sanji is NOT joking. He will refuse to look at you for at least an hour, lying face-down on the bed, absolutely devastated. The drama is unmatched.

The room is thick with passion—your hands are tangled in his hair, his lips are leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, and then— PPFFFTT— 💨 … Silence.

Sanji stops moving IMMEDIATELY.

Eyes wide as hell. Face instantly tomato-red.

And then?

This man straight-up tries to exit the room.

"Excusez-moi—I must leave, I must go, I—" He is already reaching for his pants like he’s about to abandon the situation entirely.

If you laugh? He DIES. Falls backward onto the bed, hand over his heart, groaning like he’s been mortally wounded.

"You must NEVER speak of this!!" 😫 "I can never show my face again!"

If you try to comfort him? He just dramatically throws himself into your arms like, "Why are you even still with me??"

The ONLY way to snap him out of it? Kiss him and tell him it was cute. Then suddenly he’s perking up, kissing your neck, pretending it never happened.

But he WILL remember. Forever.

Scenario: Sanji Going Down on You, But He Cums Early

You’re lying back, head resting on the pillow, legs parted just enough to let Sanji work his magic. His hands are gently caressing your thighs, lips trailing kisses along your inner leg. He’s absolutely obsessed with making you feel good, his entire focus on you. He starts slow—teasing, tasting, and gradually building up the tension between you two. You’re moaning softly, eyes fluttering shut, completely lost in the moment, when—

BAM.

It happens. He cums too soon.

Sanji pulls away immediately, face bright red, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, completely mortified. He doesn’t even know how to respond. The room is silent for a good few seconds.

And then? He curls up into a ball of despair on the bed, covering his face with his hands like he’s just committed an unforgivable crime. "Mon dieu…!" he exclaims dramatically, his voice muffled through his hands. "How could I be so weak?? I—I'm so sorry! I ruined everything!"

He refuses to make eye contact, shaking his head as if the entire universe has conspired against him. If you try to comfort him, all he can do is mutter "I failed you again…" in a small, broken voice. The embarrassment is palpable, and he is convinced that you’re utterly disappointed.

But here’s the kicker—after the initial meltdown, when you hold him and whisper sweet things, he’s so needy for reassurance. His face is buried in your chest, and he murmurs, "I promise I'll make it up to you, I swear, please… let me try again."

And yes, he will try again. But first? He needs some time to recover. He’ll casually ask you if you want him to "start over" or take a break—his pride slightly bruised, but still determined to do whatever it takes to please you. He will definitely be between your legs making it up to you till he’s ready to demonstrate how much of a man he is. He'll definitely keep thinking about it, though. For the next month at least. Every time he gets close, he'll remember that one moment, and his dramatic overreaction will likely strike again. But don’t worry, eventually, he will get back into it with renewed passion and an even more intense focus—just make sure you’re prepared for the possibility of another emotional breakdown at any second!

Conclusion: Sanji falls apart if something goes wrong. He’ll cry, dramatically apologize, and refuse to look at you. But with a little reassurance, he’ll bounce back, though he’ll never forget it. All heart, but full of drama. Very much the definition of the loud, dramatic type

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST

[dyl-z]

Queerplatonic xenodora is everythingggg and this was the first time I’ve seen it in a marauders fic literally life changing ! do you have other qpr headcanons, even if not in this fic ?

AH MY IMPACT! Yes yes I do ofc I do

Xenodora -

Childhood best friends that every one expected to begin dating once they reached maturity because of how alike they are which only put them off dating each other even more.

Xeno came out first, and it took him coming out for Pandora to realize there wasn't anything wrong with no wanting a romantic relationship.

They're not ace but they are aro which confuses people even more about their realtionship which in turn leads to more frustration when they try and explain that they don't have a romantic relationship with each other.

They literally couldn't imagine having this type of relationship with any other person in the world. They're it for each other. Platonic soulmates fr

Peter - in this AU

Aro/Ace

Is so satisfied in his friendships that he genuinely can't fathom wanting anything more

At first, he thought he needed to be in a QPR to be a real aro/ace but he just never felt right trying to do it. It always felt wrong to him and he was content to just have friends

His friendships are the most important thing in the world to him and he would die for all of his friends. But this type of relationship with his freindshsips often used to confuse him into thinking he had crushes on them when in reality he just loves them a whole lot.

Peter x Benjy - not this AU

QPR with the dramatics of a romantic relationship fr

Benjy is content in the relationship but Peter grew up in an enviorment where being Aro/Ace just wasn't a thing so he often has trouble coming to terms with the fact that he is never going to have a romantic relationship.

^^ causes a lot of fights and their freinds joke that they have the most drama out of all of them despite not dating

Despite this, they're very close with one another and tell each other everything. There are things Benjy knows about Peter that even James doesn't know

Bartylus - not this AU

Oh where do I start

PLATONIC SOULMATES

Match each others freak to an INSANE level

Aro but not Ace

Toxic QPR fr, they're both horrible for each other and enable each others worst traits but it works for some reason

Eventually Evan (who is aro/ace) gets added into the QPR and the toxicity and matching of each others freaks gets even worse

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Ask game here!!! ^^^ (I’m on IPad so it looks like this unfortunately 😭)

(Oh gosh three asks asking me about the same character (I’ll just put them together and answer it as a singular post!))

(Also this turned out way longer than I’ve expected so I’m gonna put a cut here!! To save scrolling time!!)

FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

Probably how open Smitten is with his emotions!!! He feels so so much with his whole heart and I really love how he’s not afraid to share them! He is a really honest and earnest character and I don’t really see him lying in any way (and if he does, he’d probably do a really terrible job at it because of how he wears his heart on his sleeve andnsjsm). I can’t help but feel that his earnestness is something worth admiring!

Oh! And of course of how gentle he can be! Despite his bravado he really knows how to lift someone up with his soft words. He can see how someone is hurting and would attempt to lift them up by reminding them that they are loved and is worth loving. I especially love him in Thorn because of this reason. He’s really just love personified (even if it’s towards his own deterrent (don’t do that Smitten))

Also also! I love the way he speaks! He’s so dramatic with his speech patterns that it gives me the giddiest feeling whenever I hear him speak. His princely flair got me alright… he’s so cute,,,.,,…

AND!!! How he subverts the expectations of how love is a purely good thing!!! Love can hurt really really bad as well as heal!! Both the giver and the receiver!!!! And how he is a representation of using fantasy as a coping mechanism!!! He has a lot!!! Of stuff!!!!

(Ik it said “favourite thing about them (singular)” but I can’t help but give him appreciation by yapping)

LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

(I do have some things to say about that despite you occupying 90% of my brain space Smitten </3 it’s out of love tho I promy…)

To mirror what I’ve said at the beginning, it’s of how self-sacrificing he is. My guy has zero self-preservation and self-love despite being the personification of love and emotion. He would literally die for the one he loves and like,,,, NO!!!! SMITTY!!!! SOME PEOPLE WOULD WANT YOU TO LIVE!!!! FOR THEM!!!! SOME PEOPLE WOULD TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR DEVOTION!!!!! DONT DO IT!!!! SHAKING YOU ON THE SHOULDERS /AFF

FAVORITE LINE

He has a lot of great lines tbh sbsnsjs

A lot of them are really good, but I just, can’t remember a lot of them, so I’ll just put down those that I actually remember

“My wrath will echo the depths of my bereavement.”

“If we just showed her the contents of our heart... She'd be happy here." ABSOLUTE CHILLS

“YOU SMARMY ASS”

"By cruelly turning on the Princess on her moment of vulnerability we made ourselves an enemy. But, by mastering our fear and insecurity and handing over our power, we've begun a journey to something so much deeper"

BROtp

Smitten and Skeptic! As well as Smitten and Stubborn!!

The Heart and The Head!! The Grey Brothers have a special place in my heart… They’re like the two people who’s really different from each other but enjoys each other’s company regardless of that difference. They balance each other out rather nicely despite them never meeting each other officially in game: like, Skeptic could teach Smitten to think before he act on his own emotions and be more sceptical of the intentions of other people, while Smitten could encourage Skeptic to feel with his heart! I see Skeptic as the type of person to have a hard time empathising with other people and would rely heavily on his logic to help solve the problem for them instead of simply listening to them (he cares, just doesn’t know how to do it in a way that’s unfamiliar to him/not his nature), so I think having Smitten be there to teach him how to do that would help him greatly. They would probably understand each other in the ending where TLQ kills Shifty’s heart and becomes a god himself, since Skeptic knows what’s it like to not have a grounding presence to catch him (for Smitten it’s the Princess). Him and Cheated would comfort Smitten during those times.

And here’s Beauty and Brawn! Aside from their shared appreciation for the Princess, they are also both really passionate characters who are extremely open with their emotions. Smitten would appreciate Stubborn’s showcase of passion towards the Princess, while Stubborn would see strength and potential in Smitten as an opponent! Stubborn would probably rather head straight ahead towards violence instead of using words like Smitten does, but he likes the guy so what the hell

Stubborn would try to get Smitten to fight him, but Smitten just, doesn’t fight him simply because being violent is really not in his nature (unless Stubborn intentionally gloats him into fighting him)

They would be the duo that hugs and cries together whenever there’s a touching scene playing in a movie

OTP

You already know,,..,,,, (it’s Burned Bridges)

Funnily enough the infamous Burned Grey lines aren’t the reason why I ship them in the first place

It’s the fact that I remembered a line Cold had said about Smitten would one day want the emotions to go away completely despite how strongly those emotions burn at the current moment , and then telling him to trust him on it.

It just. Reveals so much about Cold as a character.

Not only does it imply that Cold isn’t completely emotionless as he oh so often tells us that he is, and that he had felt strong emotions at one point but had chosen to repress them completely due to how much it had hurt him, but it also reveals that he doesn’t seem to hold the same animosity towards Smitten as the other way around (at least, not the level of hatred Smitten holds for him),as he actually gave him advice on the subject matter. He seems to be more amused by Smitten then anything. Burned Grey is a route where Smitten was denied of his purpose with us deciding to kill the Princess, and Cold’s whole thing is about his purpose being denied, and hence the numbing ache in his heart that he desperately wants to fill. So I feel like he would probably understand Smitten in that regard of having his purpose denied. He just, find Smitten’s anger really freaking amusing due to the fact that Smitten is usually really chipper. And also the fact that Anger is the rawest emotion there is.

They would definitely start on rough terms though. With Smitten actually fulfilling his promise on letting Cold feel what he had felt (via hurting Cold) and Cold just becoming more and more interested in how far Smitten would go in his pursuit of vengeance. How far would he go? How low would he stoop? He would love to know, and so he would gloat him more and more and see how he would react.

But knowing Smitten, he would probably get really tired of hurting Cold over and over again. He is. Just not a violent person at heart. His starring chapter two is literally one of the three routes that doesn’t have a chapter one that ends with violence(it technically does but you know what I mean(Damsel, Prisoner, Stranger)). Eventually it would reach a point where he would just tiredly tell Cold off without it ending with violence, and that would make Cold feel surprised about the change in his usual pattern of behaviour. I’d like to think that Cold would be the person to reach Smitten out to soothe him on his hollowness and aimlessness when Smitten would deny him over and over until he eventually lets Cold do his thing (heavily influenced by @pink-november ‘s fic btw) and Smitten coming to a realisation that Cold might not be as emotionless as he thought… and then the two deciding to start over on their relationship and become friends… and then learning that wait, they’re actually quite similar… and then they unknowingly fall for each other for real the more time they spend with each other…. oughhhhh slowburn Burned Bridges my beloved

“Who needs violence when you have love?”

“Who needs love when you’ve mastered yourself?”

Also also, fire and ice, pink and black, pillow and blanket, “hero” and “villain” (but not really), emotional doofus and stoic fella????? ENEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS SLOWBURN?????? That’s a lot of stuff!!!! (And the comedic whiplash of “GRRRR I HATE YOU!!!!” to them cuddling together is just. Really funny to me ok.)

Again, this ship can either go down an even more toxic route then it already is (yummy toxic yaoi) or it could become something really fluffy and tender. It really depends on what direction the writer wants the ship to go. I’m fine with either though. Both are really fun routes.

NOtp

I don’t really have a NOtp for him tbh,,..,,,,.

RANDOM HEADCANON

I’ve already said this in another post, but I’d like to imagine Smitten would abuse nicknames and name the voices with the positive qualities he sees in them. Also this is a headcanon for the Voices in general, but I’d like to think that he’d struggle acting away from his nature. Much like the Vessels, the Voice’s nature is all they knew. A part of him would always yearn for the presence of the Princess, since she was literally who he was made to love and dote upon. Even though he would feel genuinely happy that TLQ had found his one true love, a part of him would always feel that emptiness She had left behind, and his heart would ache more and more. Broken in Apotheosis had proven that the Voices can in fact grow their perspective and in turn become more complex, so I feel like Smitten would definitely have his own arc as well once the Voices learn to become their own person and not just a singular facet of TLQ (and especially Oppy and Cold but this ain’t about them).

Smitten would be really affectionate with his show of affection (depends on Voice to Voice though!!!! He wouldn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable). If you ask him which showcase of affection his likes most, he would tell you that he loves all shows of affection equally! Love is love and should be showed proud and loud across your heart! He’s the type of guy to casually give platonic smooches on the cheeks (again, depends on Voice to Voice—if the Voice is uncomfortable with smooches, he’d probably just do a handshake or something). He doesn’t really put a line in love. To him, love is just that—love. There is no need to put a line between platonic, familial and romantic love. As long as the parties are comfortable with how that love is expressed, there is no problem!

Also can we all agree he would write the corniest love songs ever?? Thanks (Cold would be amused by him and listens to Smitten perform despite his comment on the corniness of it all ahahahahah anyway)

UNPOPULAR OPINION

I can agree on Smitten not being a d!ck but saying Smitten is completely harmless and lacks any malicious intent is where I have to disagree. I dunno if this is an unpopular opinion though.

Him wanting to hurt someone in the name of love IS malicious intent despite the motivation. And he has proven that can AND will do what he had said that he would do with him literally killing us after we killed Damsel for seemingly no reason. He is love as much as he is emotional.

Also he seems to care more about how you AND the Princess feels more then his own opinions. He reads as a people pleaser to me. He genuinely just wants you and the Princess to be happy, but then that mixing with his own perception that he is supposed to be the knight in shining armour for the Princess makes for a weird complex.

SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM

We Become We, but specifically that one part of the song with HEA Smitten. I do love me some angst.

(Again sorry about the format!!!!!)

Full song: https://youtu.be/hRllUeany_Q?si=AJHdP-dJUHdf-r30

That one part: https://youtu.be/mwnXg6GXCk8?si=G1hzN_EG93ulKAhN

FAVOURITE PICTURE OF THEM

Ohohohohoh I have a couple of those teehee

(I love it when I just draw him like a ball)

[academyofbrokenhearts]

I have finally finished reading Blossom. Happy ending in the novel too, although a lot of things were vastly different; the main couple, of course, remained superior until the end.

Things we got in the novel that I am glad didn't make it into the series:

Dou Zhao, an adult woman, scheming and navigating complex familial relationships while in a two year old, then a five year old body. I get how it might be interesting for some, but it was incredibly boring for me, and since she managed to neutralise her stepmother quite early on, I saw no need to spend so much time watching her building up and managing relationships with everyone in the Dou family. Moreover, I am glad that the size of the family was trimmed down (I still can't make sense of all the relationships presented in the novel) and some characters were changed compared to how they were in the novel; it was amazing to see Grandma, who had been only a concubine in the book (and therefore couldn't even be called Grandma by Dou Zhao according to customs, let alone have any kind of power), turning into a formidable matriarch, and it was also cool to see Zhao Zhangru as the constant sidekick;

no Song Mo until 114 chapters in. I must confess that my main fascination in both the series and the novel was the relationship between the mains, and the fact that he is only mentioned once or twice before his first dramatic appearance was definitely not enough for me;

way too much time spent on side characters; like I said in a previous post, did I really need to know in detail how Suxin and Sulan ended up serving Dou Zhao? And it felt even more useless since in the novel they end up getting married and leaving the Song Manor, and only getting mentioned in passing from that moment on;

Things I wish would have made it into the series, but did not (and some of them could have never made it, unless the entire censorship board would have been in a coma):

all the sexual encounters between Song Mo and Dou Zhao. Like in the series, the start of their physical intimacy is quite slow, they don't consummate during their wedding night (but unlike in the series, it's not because she prepares a period PowerPoint presentation, it's simply because he knows the next days as newlyweds will be tiring, and just wants to allow them to rest). Unlike in the series, no one is cockblocking Song Mo (in fact, their subordinates are even alarmed at the lack of consummation), and when he decides to make a move on Dou Zhao, he does it, and no one dares to interrupt. They make love quite regularly from that moment on, and I like how Dou Zhao's reluctance is gradually melting away, and how the novel is clearly stating that she enjoys the encounters just as much as he does, and even becomes bold enough to initiate later on;

them being parents. I know we get that one cute scene with their daughter at the end of the series, but Song Mo is such a good dad and husband in the novel, constantly prioritising Dou Zhao's comfort and being just as involved in the child's rearing as she is (to the point that their son learns to say Papa before Mama). I surely wish we would have seen more of that in the series.

Song Yichun does not die in the novel. He is, in a delightful twist of fate, forced to expel Song Han from the family, a treatment he had hoped to apply to Song Mo, and is left disabled after Song Han attacks him. Moreover, the daughter he had switched at birth with Song Han is discovered alive, Song Mo takes her under his protection, and she gets married and lives happily. I surely wish karma would have hit the old man in the face like this in the series as well.

Other things that got changed which I am fairly neutral about:

Song Mo and Dou Zhao's backgrounds in life 1. I have to say I loved how the series made it crystal clear that life 1 was an utterly doomed timeline, with both of them being betrayed and ultimately killed, while the entire country was burning. Life 1 in the novel was bleak in a different, more subtle, way. Dou Zhao dies after a long illness, almost completely devoid of any human warmth - the novel tells us that both her sons with Wei Tingyu are distant, as a result of her being too busy with household matters to be able to form a bond with them, and the only warmth she gets is from her daughter, a child she had after forcing herself to have sex with her husband once more (she had trauma from miscarriage), hoping she could get pregnant again and alleviate her loneliness somewhat. And Song Mo, unlike in the series, is a very powerful figure after the coup, but is perceived as merciless (having slaughtered both his father and brother), cynical (he never finds out the truth about his uncle's death, and never bothers to) and, in the end, utterly, utterly alone;

the dynamic between them after the rebirth. Unlike in the series, where they forged a bond in life 1 which was the basis for their relationship as adults in life 2, in the novel they meet as teenagers (when he is 13 and she is 14), and he is more or less smitten from the beginning, whereas she fears and despises him at first, gradually starting to understand him the more their paths cross. While in the series, they are already both in love by the time she accepts his proposal (having gone through a lot of adventures together that strengthened their bond), in the novel, he is the one with the huge crush, while she accepts his proposal for more pragmatic reasons, trusting that he is capable and will support her in the way Wei Tingyu was unable to. But the attraction between them is mutual, and I really liked watching her slowly but surely falling in love with him due to his constant care and attention towards her;

Song Mo is way more calculated in the novel than in the series, where he's simply feral and would wreak havoc at any given moment were it not for Dou Zhao and her more sensible approaches. It makes for an interesting dynamic in the series, where they pretty much compliment each other, but I must confess I loved his scheming and 5D chess playing in the novel;

Dou Ming's entire character. Unlike in the series, which presented a nature versus nurture situation, with Dou Ming being shrewd in life 1 after being raised by her mother, and a sweet, innocent girl in life 2, as a result of not being raised by her mother, in the novel, Dou Ming exhibits jealousy from an early age, and constantly feels inferior, which ultimately results in her taking Dou Zhao's place as Wei Tingyu's wife. Their marriage is unhappy, as, just like in the series, he is not very smart and doesn't like facing difficulties. Unlike in the series, she doesn't die (she's too petty to die), but it's clear by the time she makes her last appearance in the novel that her life is miserable, and there is no chance of improvement;

Wang Yingxue is not even half as cunning and manipulative as her series counterpart; she fails to charm Dou Shiying in any meaningful way (he is never in love with her and only wants to take her as a concubine because they had a sexual encounter while he was drunk, and he wants to save face) and ultimately she pushes him away, becomes a pariah in the family and is sent to a country estate to die forgotten by everyone, including her daughter;

Miao Ansu has a completely different familial background and no connection to Dou Zhao prior to her marriage with Song Han. She's also far from being the timid forest creature the series portrays her as;

Song Han manages to be somehow even more awful than his series counterpart. Not only is he not in love with Miao Ansu, he also lacks any kind of respect for her, which ultimately pushes her to align with Dou Zhao and Song Mo, and initiate his downfall. His death is not described in the novel, but it is heavily implied.

Overall, while there were a lot of things I liked about the book, I think I prefer the pacing of the series way more. Also, the series got a "will they get their happily ever after, won't they?" feeling with the poison subplot that the novel lacked until very close to the end (when Dou Zhao is almost taken hostage during the palace coup). The royals are awful as hell in both iterations, the injustice never really gets solved (in my opinion, the Emperor was also very much to blame for Jiang Meisun's death, not only the scheming Empress), but at least the lovely main couple lives happily ever after.

Would I rather recommend the book or the series? Honestly, probably the series, but the Song Mo/Dou Zhao dynamic is lovely in the novel as well, and, if nothing else, those passages about their relationship are definitely worth reading.

[yoificfinder]

Hello ☺️

FAN of your masterlist <3

Do you have any Social Media Au recommendations that you would be willing to share them please? 🥺

Thank you so much in advance ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

#KissOrHug by Aurum [G, 2K]

Yuuri and Victor make #Victuri trend worldwide. Phichit accidentally makes it worse.

(i’m) the boy you’d die for by jenmishe [T, 6K]

v-nikiforov ✓

[Video: A short clip where Victor is laying dramatically on the couch with miserable expression. “Heartbreaker” by Marina and the Diamonds is playing.]

13,481 likes

v-nikiforov✓ Am I the another one? (((

vitYASS victor,,,, honey,,,, i lvoe you so much,,,, but WHY are you like this.

red-blue-gay but??? does that mean that somebody has broken victor’s heart???? I DON'T UNDERSTAND

christophe-gc ✓ You’re ridiculous.

starsaregay But who recorded it?? Makkachin???

vityathebabe user @starsaregay asking the real question.

---

The adventures of Yuuri "Heartbreaker" Katsuki, or: how Yuuri became known as a cold player full of himself who doesn't care about anyone. (Hint: it's an anxiety and obliviousness.)

every road leads to you by @alykapedia [T, 2K]

phichit+chu welcome to the third wheel experience

katsuki_fc wrote by tetsurashian [G, 13K]

Just because Yuuri isn't big on social media, doesn't mean his fans aren't.

other people want to keep in touch by spookyfoot [G, 1K]

So Victor had registered yuuristrophyhusband out spite when yuurikatsukistrophyhusband was also already taken. That user got a very angry email. Victor may have abused the "report user" feature. It's all a bit of a blur. Instagram locked his account for a couple hours and took away his verification. They thought he’d been hacked.

_________

Yuuri's fans are thirsty . Victor is also thirsty. It's a thirst Olympics. Good thing Victor's already got the gold.

R/Ridiculous by phoenixwings [G, 3K]

I [32M] have to do laundry twice a week now because my husband [28M] keeps wearing my clothes, but I don’t want to ask him to stop because he looks so good in them. What should I do?

Yuuri glanced over the replies, most of which were some variation of “please stop posting these, you’re clogging up the feed”. Yuuri smirked as he wrote his own response.

Buy more clothes.

-quadflipkatsudon

In which Yuuri leaving his laptop open somehow leads to his husband being ridiculous on Reddit.

the rough with the smooth by sixpences / @thetwoguineabook [E, 6K]

Yuuri grows a beard. Victor loses his mind. So does the internet.

The Time(s) The Internet Collectively Exploded by MEIXIU [T, 22K]

It started with Victor Nikiforov's departure from Figure Skating to suddenly pursue a career in coaching with a certain Japanese man and then it escalated quickly from then on.

Youtube Rewind series by @crossroadswrite [T and M, 40K]

A compilation of youtuber AUs:

food youtuber and chef!yuuri & beauty youtuber & model victor

gaming youtuber!yuuri & beauty youtuber!victor

dancer & gaming youtuber!yuuri & beauty, lifestyle youtuber!victor