#she built like the letter P

[itspileofgoodthings]

but on a more serious note, I do hate when any adaptation--but especially this one!--decides to change the nature of specific uncomfortable or antagonistic character interactions to something softer or sweeter, or even just decided to give two characters that don't get along or interact much at all A Moment™. That really is not always the right call!

[stylesharrys]

Baby Styles [WILAY Extra]

Y/N's got some news and Daisy finally asks Harry to be her real dad.

A/N: it's been forever since I wrote when I look at you and I promised ages ago I would do some little spin-off fics... here is one for you guys that I had over on patreon :)

WC: 2k

//

Daisy’s favourite part of the day has to be bedtime.

Forget playing with her friends at school, or bathtime where Y/N lets her swish around the tub like a mermaid, or Aunt Akasha or Gemma feeding her up with ice cream. Daisy thoroughly enjoys bedtime because more often than not, it’s her only time with her Dad that goes undisturbed.

Since she can remember, Harry has always put Daisy to bed. The exception of those couple of months he was touring a year ago, but he still FaceTimed her at every bedtime and read her a passage from whatever book they had chosen for that week.

Y/N putting Daisy to bed is never the same. She’s always argued so. Y/N doesn’t read the same as Harry. She doesn’t do the voices, or make the faces, or execute the dramatic pauses.

She tries, but it’s not the same. And Daisy has made her opinion on Y/N’s bedtimes clear.

The four-year-old has grown into a complete ball of sass in the past two years, and the entire family knows it.

Y/N argues it’s Harry rubbing off on her, that she’s picking up his quirks and mishaps. Harry tries not to laugh when he watches the child strop off sulking because Y/N’s told her she’s settling her to bed that night.

“Daddy, come look!”

Harry sets the plates on the table as she calls him from the living room. Stifling a yawn, he follows the voice of the little girl and finds her bouncing on the balls of her feet, in front of the coffee table.

She’s drawn a picture, a reasonably artistic one; he won’t lie. It’s of Harry, that much he can tell. He’s sat in the home studio he and Y/N had built out in the garden next to the shed last year, his red guitar sat in his lap with a mop of brown curls on his head.

He grins. “Is tha’ me, petal? Looks good! Should we stick it on the fridge with your other ones?”

She nods, handing him the paper and scurrying past him toward the kitchen, nearly bumping into Y/N’s legs on the way and earning a disapproving look from her mother for it.

“Careful, Dais, it’s hot in here,” Y/N warns gently.

She doesn’t say anything, instead rummages through the drawer beside the fridge for another letter magnet. She retrieves a P and Harry lets her pin it to the fridge door, a triumphant grin to her lips as she places her hands to her hips.

“What do you think, Mummy? Do you like my picture of Daddy?” She asks with bright eyes.

Y/N squints down at the picture, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Love it, babe. Did Dad’s hair perfectly, didn’t you.” She praises.

Harry squints in teasing offence at his fiance, the front of his curls tied above his head and looking like a small beansprout.

“I thought you liked my hair?” He feigns offence as he regards the young girl and she shrieks out a wholesome laugh at her Dad’s behaviour.

“I do!” She jumps, stilling back on her feet and tilting her head to the side. “But it is getting very long, Daddy.”

Y/N stifles a snort, and Harry leaps forward to smack her bum playfully, Daisy covering her eyes with an amused shriek. “Right you,” Harry turns back to her, “go wash your hands and put your colours away, Mum’s dishing dinner up.”

Daisy doesn’t wait a moment longer when she sees the dino nuggets being piled on her plate, rushing to get her things tidied and hands cleaned.

It leaves Y/N and Harry alone again for a moment, and he takes advantage of it, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist from behind and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

His hands sprawl out across the expanse of her stomach, heart skipping a beat at the thought of watching it grow again, as it had four years ago.

“Are we gonna tell her tonight?” He asks softly and Y/N hums, taking a shaky breath.

She’s nervous. She doesn’t know how Daisy is going to react about being a big sister. The four-year-old has never even mentioned having a sibling, and everyone is very much aware of how much Daisy enjoys attention.

Y/N’s worried her little girl will kick off into a meltdown and she doesn’t think she can stomach a distraught child tonight.

Harry gives her a reassuring squeeze. “She’s going to be fine with it. Honestly reckon she’ll be obsessed.”

He’s only trying to lighten the weight on her shoulders, which Y/N does appreciate, but if she’s honest, it’s not doing much to help.

She nods with a sigh. “Yeah, she should be alright. Just all new to all of us.”

//

Settled on the sofa with The Grinch Who Stole Christmas on the TV and three mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, Daisy and her parents cuddle up on the couch.

The fire is crackling, making the moment all the cosier for the three. Daisy snuggles between Harry and Y/N, her hair in damp braids that Y/N had plaited after her bath and her feet are cosy in a pair of Christmas socks.

Harry has an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s shoulder to catch her attention. She looks over to him, sleepy look on her face and Harry thinks he wouldn’t mind settling Daisy a little earlier than usual, just to have some well deserved alone time with his fiance.

He nods his head between them, down to the little girl that’s snuggled against their sides. Y/N purses her lips, blinking back the sleep she desperately needs, and nods.

She shuffles on the sofa, turning her attention to Daisy while Harry pauses the movie. Daisy is quick to frown, something that makes a slight smile creep across her mother’s lips.

“But the doggy!” she whines.

Harry gently lifts her from under her arms and pulls her backwards, so she’s settled in his lap. He keeps his arms around her small middle as they both face Y/N.

“We can watch the doggy in a minute, Dais. Mummy and Daddy have something very exciting to tell you.”

Daisy��s eyes light up, dazzling with curiosity and excitement. “Are we getting a doggy?” She shrieks, hands clapping as she bounces in Harry’s lap. He bites back a loving laugh and pulls her closer to keep her still.

Harry kisses the top of her head, and Y/N reaches to stroke Daisy’s clothed feet.

“No, sweetheart. Not a puppy.”

She frowns, can’t possibly understand what could be more exciting than getting a puppy.

Harry gives her body a gentle squeeze, his eyes on Y/N as she takes another shaky breath. “Mummy’s got a baby in her belly.” He whispers to the four-year-old.

It takes a moment, then another. Daisy doesn’t make a sound, barely even cringes at the mention of a baby. She’s been around enough of them through cousins and family friends to know how needy and clingy and whiney they are.

A frown starts to etch onto Harry’s face as Y/N’s lips part. Why has she not said anything?

“Baby?” she finally repeats, eyes now glued to her mother’s clothed stomach and Y/N nods her head, hands instinctively reaching for her middle.

Harry’s eyes begin to well, can’t believe how perfect his life has become. The woman of his dreams, two children of his own.

“Yeah, petal. Baby in Mummy’s belly.”

Then Y/N sees it, the tears starting to well in her daughter’s eyes as she sinks into Harry’s chest. Her heart starts to break, reaching closer for her baby, but she grabs hold of Harry’s arms as the first of the tears begin to fall.

He frowns down at his little girl, worries fogging his senses and his heart beating sporadically against his chest. Harry holds her closer, eyes shifting to Y/N, who looks completely distraught.

“Dais… what’s wrong? This is exciting. You’re going to be a big sister. We’re going to have a baby Styles!” Y/N tries to sell it, but the child’s mouth only starts to turn downcast, and a small sob slips past her lips.

“But Harry won’t be my Daddy anymore.”

It feels like the world around them has shattered, can’t hear anything but white noise. Harry struggles to swallow down the need to throw up, and Y/N can’t make sense of anything around her.

Does she think Harry won’t be her father anymore?

A chill runs down his spine. He hasn’t heard Daisy call him Harry in two years.

Harry makes quick work of spinning her around in his lap, standing her on the sofa, so she’s looking at him. Daisy’s face is red, blotchy with tears, and she’s started crying so hard she’s given herself hiccups.

He wipes her eyes. “‘Nough of that, petal. I’m always gonna be your Daddy. Where’s this come from?”

Y/N shuffles closer, somehow managing to sit wedged in Harry’s side as she reaches for her daughter, too. She rubs her back soothingly, one hand intertwined with Harry’s.

Daisy shrugs, bottom lip pouted out and quivering. Y/N and Harry never want to see her so upset again.

“Because the baby is Styles, and-and I’m not! And Daddy will love the baby more than me because the baby is Styles like Daddy, but I’m Y/L/N like Mummy. And Mummy will be Styles at the wedding, so I’ll be all alone, and you won’t love me anymore, and I won’t have a Mummy or Daddy.”

She bursts into a fiery fit of tears, unable to stop her entire little body from trembling as the sobs wrack through her. Though both parents struggle to keep their tears at bay, neither of them can seem to help the amusement that trickles across their lips.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Y/N coos.

Harry holds her close, peppering kisses to her cheeks and refusing to let go, heart crushed at the raw sobs that sound through the living room.

“Daddy is going to love baby Styles just as much as he loves you, Dais. You’re always gonna be my little girl,” he promises wholeheartedly, but Daisy isn’t having any of it.

“But I want to be Styles, too! I want to be Styles like Mummy and Daddy and baby.” She wails out breathlessly, face now bright red as she struggles to catch her breath.

Y/N and Harry meet each other's gaze, blinking once, then twice. She wants to be a Styles.

Never once has Daisy said anything about her last name being different from Harry’s. Never once has she related the name difference to him not really being her father, and Y/N doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Okay… we’ll call you Daisy Styles from now on then,” Harry suggests to her, and though it’s a decent proposition, it’s not quite official enough for Daisy.

She wipes her arms and shifts in his hold, now looking between both of her parents and they give her a moment to compose herself, catch her breath and calm her thoughts.

“And my teachers and doctors and everyone! I want everyone to call me Daisy Styles!”

They look to each other, a warm smile spreading across Harry’s lips and Daisy watches them silently converse with wide eyes. Y/N raises a brow, a quirk in the corner of her lips and Harry nods softly, a broad smile breaking across his face.

“Okay,” Y/N breathes.

Daisy’s eyes light up, her back straightening as she quickly wipes her face and sniffles back any remaining tears. Harry squeezes his fiance’s hand, raising it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“We will get the paperwork and change your name to Daisy Styles. But, you have to promise to be a nice big sister to the baby.”

She nods, quick and eager. Daisy throws her arms around both of her parents, jumping on the sofa between them, and Harry thinks he could fucking burst.

Daisy and Baby Styles.

[marketfreshfics]

Love is a... | Sebastian x MC

Header image (Sebastian): @starrysallow ✦ 5,439 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI) ✦ unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), estranged friends to lovers, mild physical confrontation, some angst, oral, masturbation, p in v, tw: choking ✦ Inspired by "Love is A..." - PVRIS ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Events following catastrophe were called fallout for a reason. Oftentimes it wasn’t the disaster itself, but the particles of pain that amassed the body counts, thrown to the heavens and scattered. What goes up, must always come down.

After killing Solomon and being pardoned outside of a court of magical law, based on friendship and honesty at the decision of his closest two friends, Sebastian was never the same. He stopped regular class attendance, prioritized unhealthy friendships, and frequented the restricted section even more. 

She worried, constantly, but each attempt to reconnect and rekindle had been dodged and ignored. Her poor owl probably thought her a right lunatic with the amount of return post that accumulated next to her bedside.

It was as if he breathed in strands of that wretched Killing Curse, and his former self was another casualty of that day. 

Distance was the only solution, and weeks bled to months, then years. Hostilities were built, grudges cemented, and relationships wedged. A lifelong friendship built on mutual trust, obliterated by all counts without salvage. 

It hurt her heart, to say the least. Even Ominis insisted on prioritizing Sebastian’s company, solely out of self-flagellating guilt in believing he could have, somehow, prevented all of this. Now, he felt like it was the best means of maintaining Sebastian’s composure, of averting further tragedy. Eventually, the infrequent study sessions and conversations in the Slytherin common room became a thing of the past. The Undercroft’s clockface locking mechanism collected cobwebs, of time lost and friendships standing still. 

She withdrew; the end of her seventh year approached and she was consumed by the quiet, by research, by exams. By any and all distractions that held her focus long enough to neglect her feelings. 

Until one sleepless evening, as she passed the time in the Slytherin common room, tracing shapes in the condensation on the windows looking out into the Black Lake. The sound of footfalls and deep snickers bit her focus and induced an automatic eye-roll, the tells of men being up to no good. She turned her back to the stairwell, opting out of asking what they were up to at one-thirty in the morning.

Nothing great from the sounds of it. The group halted at the bottom of the stairs, whispered amongst themselves, and let out hushed sounds of approval. And then, the last voice she wanted to hear in the middle of the night beckoned her attention.

“Hello.”

Fucks sake, she thought, hearing Sebastian’s unfortunately familiar tone. His cronies chuckled, and worry started to spread uncomfortably in her chest.

“Leave her be, Sebastian.” 

Relief cooled her blood as Ominis chided his best friend. Nothing wary would occur if he was in their company, that was certain; the heir of Slytherin had a quiet but firm reputation that fellow housemates were keen to avoid fucking around near. She turned, and swallowed hard.

Sebastian was a ghost of his former self, having filled out the straight-up-and-down form of his early teenage years. His black button-down could have used a proper resizing, taut at the biceps, the slightest hint of his undershirt peeking through the first buttonhole. Had they maintained a proper friendship still, she might have found him rather fetching. 

But that was off the table entirely, their friendship long past expiration, the unanswered letters like an obituary in itself.

Sebastian crossed the central chamber of the common room, walking with the subtle saunter of liquid courage and bad influence, smirking with a glassy haze in his eyes. 

He stood far too close to her. “I said, hello.” Terse, unyielding. The firewhisky on his breath branded her cheeks, and at this proximity, she was painfully aware of how much taller than her he’d grown. His little band of brothers hung back much to her relief; Ominis stood between them and the tower of darkness, the only one of them with some decorum (and sobriety)

“What do you want?” She muttered, fists balled at her sides to hide their tremble.

Sebastian feigned a hurt expression but it immediately dissolved, replaced with a terrible implication in his grin. “You.”

His audience chortled, save for Ominis, who seemed to be carefully attuned to whatever Sebastian was about to say next. 

She ignored his forward attempt, cursing herself inwardly for how excited it made her feel. “What happened to you?” She wasn't looking for an answer, at least not immediately. She would have preferred he give it some thought, then approach her the next morning with an explanation (and, perhaps, an apology). “What’s wrong with you? Ever since you-”

Chagrined by her prying question, he reacted abruptly, grabbing her by the throat and pushing her back hard against the window.

His friends seemed perturbed by the action, immediately noping out of any involvement and backing out of the room for what they believed was yet to come. Ominis however took a step towards Sebastian, his wand raised, pulsing red. “Release her, Sebastian.” There was an exercised firmness in his voice as if he’d done this before. She wasn't the least bit surprised. 

What was surprising, however, was her arousal. For his hand to be large enough to cup her throat just right, she thought it unfair. His eyes commanded her gaze, nostrils flared and breath hissed over snarled lips. His words bore grit, and punctuation pronounced. “Watch. your. mouth.”

It was no suggestion, about as much room for argument as was left in her airways for oxygen to travel to and from; next to none. Her jugular pounded against the web of his thumb, and his eyelids fluttered, pupils contracting in the earth of his eyes. 

He knew. He bloody well knew how she was reacting, he had to. It shredded her innocence then, flayed it on the rack and flung her into a pit that the bastard dug himself. 

Sebastian’s lip twitched, the corner tugging upwards into a smirk. Fuck him, she thought before speaking her mind, an emphatically sharp remark cutting a web of spit that landed on his chin. It only broadened his grin, as he wiped it away with his middle finger before swiping it with his tongue.

Her sympathies were with Ominis who had to endure this display of power and obstinate threats. “You’re reprehensible, Sebastian!” he warned as a firm hand clapped his shoulder. “Leave her be. She’s gone through enough already without your mistreatments.”

But she didn't want him to leave her be. She wanted him to mistreat her even more, and leave nothing left.

Mercy was given as Sebastian released her, wringing his hand. He narrowed his eyes as she ran off towards the spiral staircase, leaving before Ominis could provide consolation. Only once she was safely out of eye and earshot did she suck in a breath. She winced, a sting of soreness at her swallow, coughing to clear her stuck esophagus.

But that wasn’t what she fixated on. Instead of fear, she felt curiosity. Instead of warnings heeded, she draped his red flags over her shoulders like expensive silks. 

Deceived into tasting forbidden fruit by a fucking snake. She could have laughed if she weren’t so fixated on the abject deploracy of it all. Every detail was ingrained in memory, down to the searing heat exhaled from his nostrils, fanning her décolletage, his inferno blazing.

And still, tears sprung to her eyes as she ran to the only spot she considered would provide some quiet reprieve…

And somewhere she could moan freely without an audience.

Thankfully the greenhouse was left unlocked, most likely by a fifth-year tasked with watering the dirigible plums after dinner and forgot to lock up. She stepped into the classroom, the humidity warmer than the cold dampness of the Slytherin dungeons, and she found a quiet corner to scoot on her bottom out of sight.

Despicable as it was, her digits committed treason and slipped under the waistband of her pajamas, sinning herself, confessing to those immoralities to please with her pleas. Her eyes wrenched shut in concentration as she drew upon her new little devious spank bank, every reaction cycling on a loop as her wrist bones cracked quietly in her panties with the fervour of her ministrations. And as close as she managed to get herself, with the image of Sebastian tattooed on tight eyelids, she almost cursed out loud when the latch on the greenhouse door clicked with movement.

She wasn't alone anymore.

She might have anticipated Ominis following her in hopes of apologizing on his behalf, but she never would have expected Sebastian to be the one stepping into the greenhouse, not after what transpired minutes ago. Perhaps Ominis talked some sense and ordered him to reconcile in person.

He leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets. “I can see you,” He said quietly, gesturing to her slippers poking out of the shadows. “What are you doing over there? Please, can you come out a moment?”

“Or what?” She replied, still trying to steady her breath, the combination of running and masturbating making it draw shallow. “You going to strangle me again if I don't?”

He exhaled, and… pleaded? “Promise I won't. That… I was out of line. You didn't deserve a moment of that treatment, not ever.”

She frowned, not expecting this change of pace whatsoever. She pushed herself up to stand, quickly wiping her fingers on the inside of her t-shirt, shuffling closer to him while maintaining adequate distance. With the enchanted heat lanterns angled at the massive venomous tentacula nearby, his face was washed with a glow that gave him a false sense of innocence. Her heart ached as she looked attentively at her former best friend for more than she had in over a year. “Sebastian,” she began, crossing her arms. “Can we talk about this in the morning? You’re drunk.”

“Not anymore,” he replied. “Ominis gave me a rather sobering talk.”

“Still.”

He sighed. “Please… we’ve gone too long without hashing this out. There’s a lot I need to say, and I’m certain the same rings true for you as well, no?”

She nodded, chewing her lip. It took several heavy seconds for him to continue, weighed down by the breadth of time spent apart. “I want to start by apologizing for how I threatened you this evening. I had a few drinks, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Even though it sounded like he was reading from a rehearsed script, his expression was genuine. “It wasn't right to scare you that way.”

If you only knew, she thought, but she wasn’t about to give him the benefit of the doubt. She looked down and focused on the small hole in the toe of her slipper. “It’s fine,” she replied, nodding. “No. I’m alright. Thank you for checking on me.”

Truth be told, she just wanted him to wrap it up so she could rub one out already. She couldn’t think of anything but his hand on her throat, and it was giving her a fuckton of bad ideas. When she looked up again he was eyeing her curiously, and the hint of narrowness in his gaze made her bottom lip tuck between her teeth.

“What were you doing here before I arrived?” 

She wondered, at that moment, if he’d spent his free time studying legilimency. Her nonchalance did not convince him. The tells were there: flushed face, rumpled pajamas, the drawstring tucked into her waistband. Still, she didn’t want him to know that she was fingerfucking herself before his surprise appearance; Merlin knows what that would do for his ego. She played it off. “Just checking the growth progress on my mallowsweet.” 

“You’re still a piss poor liar.” He huffed, though a shadow of a genuine smile made an appearance as he clasped his hands in front of him. He studied her, stepping closer. “I’ll need to be honest with you now, but I only ask that you be honest with me in return.” 

“You weren’t before?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What? No, yes—- I was being honest there, truly.” He was tripping over words, evidently still feeling some of the alcohol in his system. “I won’t lie to you, promise.” 

After consideration, she nodded. “Okay, what is it?” I’m probably going to regret this, she thought, leaning against a crate of potting soil. 

Sebastian’s expression was thoughtful, the space between his brows creased. It appeared as though he were trying to choose the proper words. “Over the past couple of years, we’ve… well, I haven’t been myself.” The halfhearted scoff from her was not lost on him, but he continued. “Ever since, you know… that, happened, I’ve experienced these disturbing feelings, impulses that make me want to do terrible things. I don't know how to describe them, but they’re not inherently good. Ominis believes I’m dealing with guilt, but it’s not so simple. It’s not that direct.”

His quiet intensity doubled down then, and he looked at her. “I’ve wanted to… to hurt you.” His voice softened as he said your name. “I’ve thought of unimaginable things, truly awful acts that made me consider my very sanity. Things that you would never deserve in a thousand years. And they aren't just passing through.” The words seemed to leave a foul taste on his tongue. “They stick around. No one knows about it, because how could I admit such a thing? Even now I’m trying to cast them out. I don't know if it’s some kind of repressed anger that you decided against turning me in, forcing me to live with the consequences of my actions without trial…”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m prattling. I just want you to know, this is the reason I’ve been so… distant, with you. It ate me up inside to stay away and it wasn't fair to you without an explanation, but I couldn't trust myself. Even now, or earlier I mean… I don’t know if these thoughts will go away entirely.” Shame settled into his features. “Still, I miss you. I have missed you, and I miss our friendship. I miss…” 

Sebastian blinked for a moment, and before she could interject he was standing right in front of her, hands on the crate behind her. She was locked in, his strong arms a barrier from freedom, but she wasn't about to attempt escape. To do so would mean she couldn't experience him this close, this intense. He towered over her, swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing. “I miss what could have been. Please, be honest with me…” He took her hand then, dwarfing hers. It made her chest tight as he murmured, and the heart was apparent in his words. “Even knowing what I’ve shared, knowing fully well that I want to fight these feelings for you, would you ever… even want, to be friends again?”

Her mouth fell open slightly, the wind out of her sails. The divisiveness in her was tumultuous, warring between slapping him across the face and shouting profanely for the blind selfishness. True that there was deep anger in her heart, but there was also a void that ran deep, a cut that never healed. She looked up at him, let out a sigh, and wrapped her arms around his torso, her face in his chest.

Sebastian was caught off guard, his inhale caught in his windpipe, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return. He held her so tightly she winced, letting out a small groan, but she didn't shy away, hugging him with equal enthusiasm as they swayed with the shared experience of reconnecting a missing piece after far too long. 

“Can you tell me when those thoughts are too much to ignore?” She asked after several seconds, looking up at him, ignoring the heartbeat that skipped attendance as a result. “I don’t want you to leave me again. That… that was the hardest thing to go through. I mean, we did everything together, and then to just, suddenly not…” She sighed. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

His brow furrowed. “Still relentlessly selfless, I see.” He smiled, and when he breathed she was relieved to find his breath no longer carried the smell of firewhisky, instead just purely him. “I swear to you, I’ll never put you in danger ever again. If I need to talk to someone or, I don't know, distract myself. I’d sooner fling myself from the astronomy tower than knowingly cause you harm.”

She nodded, but her mind was ping-ponging an idea around that made her reconsider her sanity. Rationality missed roll call and so when she looked up at Sebastian, when the rest of the world vignetted around him, the kiss happened all on its own. 

And he was just as eager, holding her body close as he consumed in a heat that scalded her resolve. Those fucking hands of his knew precisely where to hold her, where to pull, an indication that he’d imagined this before into his fist under bedsheets. She moaned with a tender kind of tact, fingers laced in his hair, practically pulling him into her petite form.

He parted to catch his breath moments later, cheeks and nose ruddy with blood flush. “This is okay?” His eyes flickered about her face, honing in on any evidence of disagreement in her expression. “I promise I won’t be rough with you, I--”

“Sebastian,” She murmured, tracing his clavicle as she spoke. Time to come clean. With any luck, he wouldn't be horrified of her. “I… I liked it… when you choked me.”

Brown eyes blinked, and she could practically see the cogs in his head struggle to make a full rotation around her admission. “You… you enjoyed that? But--”

“I loved it.” 

His lips parted then, and she saw a new look in his eyes. Perhaps this was what he sought to keep buried from her and yet here she was, laying in the very mound of dirt he turned up. 

So much is communicated in their gaze. His expression changes, and the paradigm shifts. “Yeah?” His voice has a hint of heat, a sample of what is to come, and the way he comes to terms with this burned slowly in her belly. “You like rough stuff?”

Her face flamed. “I-I never knew… But when you…”

The thought clicked then, and he tilted his head. “…what did you say you were doing in here, again?” 

“…I didn’t.” 

A slow smirk of understanding spread and remained in place, even as his lips crashed into hers. He kissed her with more insistence this time, harder, more ragged breaths than taking her breath away. Sebastian leaned into it, teasing her with his words. “What a little imp you are, scurrying off to rub one out. I’m surprised you didn’t go to your dormitory, where I wouldn’t be able to find you, left to your own devices…”

She gasped as those tactile fucking hands of his settled at her hips, fisting the waistband of her pajamas so hard the woven texture and seams of the fabric left indentations on his palms. Her hands were put to good use then as well, attempting to unbutton his shirt without breaking their kiss, a feat in itself considering how little thought was in her brain regarding anything that wasn’t connected to his body. Sebastian resumed his little wordplay while she untucked his shirt from his trousers. “Someone’s eager, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, and he chuckled while swatting her hands away from his nearly open shirt, grabbing and hoisting her to sit on the crate. Her legs snapped open immediately and Sebastian let out the most beautiful breathy groan, leaning into her as his lips descended the column of her neck. The humidity of the greenhouse gathered a whisper of perspiration along their brows, but the heat between them was something else entirely. Finally undoing his shirt in her conquest, it fell from his shoulders and she couldn’t help but drink him in. “Sebastian, you’re…”

He seemed a touch vulnerable at that moment, but it faded lightning fast as he grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head.

Her brain was rendered a useless mound of matter as she ran her hands over his defined chest, her eyes darting to the enticing trail of hair that disappeared into his trousers. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, and her intrigue spurred him on, fed the deviant within. His hand slid up her torso, deliberately over a braless breast, settling to hold her throat. The other, however, buried between her legs and cupped her mound from over her pajamas. 

The sound she made was positively primal, and she crushed her bottom lip between her teeth as he applied pressure, rubbing his fingers in devastatingly slow circles that made her hips buck. He leaned in close to her ear as she whimpered, nipping a lobe. “That's my girl… sing for me.” 

So she did, letting the moans out freely as he tightened his grip on her neck. Her back arched as his thumb pressed into the side of her throat, and the sensation made her acutely aware of her heartbeat. It throbbed in her head and her sex, her mouth agape as his dark eyes watched her reactions, and the wicked grin he gave her pronounced his excitement. “You like that?” He asked, voice hoarse and low, laden with lust. “You like how I touch you like this?”

She nodded eagerly, trying to control the friction between her legs with more measured motions, and he obliged with enough pressure that her wetness began to wick through the fabric, ample and abundant. “Merlin, you’re already so wet for me.” The way he spoke to her was nothing short of sinful, his voice reaching a lower pitch she’d never heard before. He sped up, letting her rock into his palm as he varied the pressure on her carotid. She could come just like this, pathetic and whining and without having taken any clothing off yet. 

Sebastian seemed intent on making sure she did just that. He leaned down to mouth a nipple from over her thin t-shirt, pulling another beautiful sound of pleasure from her mouth. The cotton wet with his lips around her pebbled peak and it throttled her impending orgasm. Her moans ascended in pitch, and just as she came the hand on her throat loosened. Her climax rocketed through her then, echoing sharply off the glass panels of the greenhouse, and if anyone were in the immediate proximity they would surely know it wasn't the sound of a mandrake that wriggled loose from its pot. Thighs spasming and tight to his sides, she rode out her release against his hand, the soaked crotch of her pajamas goading him on. 

His mouth disconnected from her, capturing her lips in an almost desperate kiss, despite the confidence in his tone. “You’re beautiful when you come for me,” Sebastian purred, and he finally pulled off her shirt, baring her chest. His quiet exhale signaled his enjoyment. “Fuck, look at you…”

“You like what you see?” She found her voice mingled with a new sense of boldness as she palmed her breasts for him, giving him a rightful show. Sebastian uttered an expletive to voice his approval and eagerly claimed her lips in a breathtaking kiss as he undid his belt. 

“God, yes,” his response was airy and rough. “Look what you do to me…”

And look she did, as he untucked himself from his underwear, practically twitching with the reflex of his abs clenching, his cock so hard it could crush diamonds to dust. She bit her bottom lip as he palmed his member, a groan born deep in his chest as she scooted off the crate and sunk to her knees in front of him, the cobblestone floor biting her joints. His cock bobbed at the most beautiful fucking sight he ever saw, and with an eager grasp at his base, she took the tip past her lips.

Sebastian’s head lulled back as he let out a quiet “unh,” drawn out once she slid the rest of his length into her mouth. She took his wrists then, bringing them behind her head, and his body knew precisely what to do as his fingers combed through her hair. With an abrupt thrust, he pushed deep into her eager mouth, and the moan that vibrated around his girth was all the encouragement he needed to repeat the motion. He imparted a slow, but intense pace, and she kept up with a slacked jaw and willing tongue. His cock glistened as it slid past her lips, a delicious mix of her saliva and his precum dribbling down her chin as she let him fuck her pretty mouth. The tip hammered the back of her throat and the sound she made to suppress her gag reflex stirred something in his chest, as if the nature of his ability to determine true love had some dirty little kinks of its own. 

Then again, looking down into her eyes, gone glassy with the effort of her fellation, he had to wonder. 

She didn't offer much room for second thoughts as she bobbed forward, taking him to the very base and then some, her nose pressed into the tufts of hair at his pubic bone. He held her there as she swallowed around his cock, her throat clenched as she sucked hard. With her airways constricted her breath was caught with nowhere to go and she properly choked, her face going red. Sebastian had never experienced something this intense, and he panted with balled fists in her hair to pull tightly. 

His hips snapped, withdrawing from her mouth as she sucked in a breath, so quickly that she coughed from the rush of air. “While I’d love to keep fucking your mouth,” he grinned, and she swore she saw the devil himself, “I need you to come around my cock while I choke that pretty little throat of yours.”

His words were music to her ears. She obliged, and he pulled her up by the hair to stand again, attacking her lips, all teeth and tongues. His fingernails scratched her hips as he wrenched her pajama bottoms down, her panties joining them at her ankles before he lifted her onto the crate again. The wood scraped her bottom but she had no room to protest as his cock commanded her attention, dragging deliciously between her puffy folds. “Sebastian, please,” she mewled almost pathetically, angling her hips in hopes of slipping him in on her own. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he sighed softly, “you’re so wet…”

An unexpected moment of tenderness claimed his senses then and he looked up, their gazes meeting, hearts swelling. He cupped her cheek, swiping a spot of spit from her chin as he leaned in to kiss her with a softness that he wasn't accustomed to. For all the pain he’d known, for all the darkness that stained his being, she was the safe space to embrace. 

And he dare not let go of her. Not again. Not ever.

Her name fell from his lips as he slid inside of her. She hissed quietly as she acclimated to his length, testing his girth with a tightness that sent shivers up her spine. He rolled his hips, and she faced the heavens.

Sebastian was an intense lover, she discovered, his forehead pressed to hers as he fucked her deep, rocking on her ass with his eager motions. She was keen to contribute, her legs pretzeled around his waist, hands gripping his biceps for support, holding on for the ride of her life. Her plush warmth enveloped his cock, a silken heat that pulled him in. Their pace was perfection, enough to build their pleasure without losing traction. 

“Mm, here.” He scooped her up at the bottom, carrying her effortlessly to a nearby workstation, gesturing her to lay her back on the desktop. “I wanna see all of you…”

He grabbed her hips with an almost bruising firmness and continued to fuck her on the workstation, watching his cock pump in and out of her, and she realized with a soft chuckle why he’d chosen this specific desk. No doubt this was a slight dig at her previous crush during their third year, Leander fucking Prewett, when Sebastian had caught them snogging outside the entrance to their common room. He’d teased her relentlessly for it, and now she had half a mind to wonder if it was a little crush of his own developing back then. His wicked grin implied they were on the same page. “You little shit,” she chuckled, but it cut off as he slammed inside, pulling an especially loud moan from her. No room for Gryffindor thoughts in this snake pit. 

Sebastian’s gaze darkened with lust, his hair tousled along his forehead. One of those perfect hands claimed her throat as he shrouded her. “Yes,” she rasped, and he clasped firmly, squeezing precisely where he had to to get her heart thundering through her temples. She realized then, as her pulse became dangerously loud behind her ears, that he was timing his thrusts to her heartbeat. Her back arched with the increased pace, a symphony of gargled moans singing his praises as she quickly ascended the peak of an approaching climax. “Sebastian, I’m—I’m close…”

“I know,” he replied, unyielding in his motions. The edges of her vision greyed, and before she could protest the impending blackout, he eased his grip. At the precise moment that oxygenated blood returned to her brain, she came hard around his cock, hollering his name as she convulsed on the desk. Sebastian didn't stop, however, chasing the tails of his release with reckless abandon, hips pistoning so hard the table jostled and scraped against the floor. When he did come he punctuated it with a growled expletive, holding his hips flush to hers as her spent, quivering sex milked him for all he could give. 

He collapsed onto her chest, kissing her sternum between shallow breaths. “You felt so, so good,” he whispered, craning his neck to offer breathless kisses as she cradled his head adoringly. She gestured to sit upright and he pulled out, sooner than he’d wanted, but he could tell by her soft groan that the firm surface had to be brutal on her spine. 

Instead, she held him, melting into another appreciative kiss. “As did you. That was… I never knew it could feel like that.”

Sebastian chuckled, nosing her cheek with affection. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have left you alone after all.”

Her smile faltered, and he caught the echo of pain behind her eyes. “Sorry, I… I should have talked to you about this sooner. I was wrong to have shut you out this way. I was only trying to ensure your safety.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “I’ll make it up to you, for lost time.”

“You better,” she grinned again, this time with fondness as she brushed the bangs back from his forehead. “And, maybe… we can keep exploring these new enjoyments together. Perhaps by letting you indulge in some rougher activities, it will help.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “You’d want to do that for me?”

“Of course I would,” She replied without hesitation. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer my assistance?”

A strong brow raised at that, and he smirked. “Oh, is this currently what you would define as friend behaviour between us?” he gestured to their naked forms, flushed pink with post-sex afterglow, glistening with a sheen of sweat. “Merlin, you’ve become awfully chummy.”

She rolled her eyes, thanking him wordlessly as he helped put her shirt back on before retrieving his own. “So you’re assuming I’m you’re girlfriend now or something?”

“Will you?” 

She caught it; fleeting, but there nevertheless, a fond expression that brought back memories of his younger years, a boyish charm that captured her heart long ago. Her Sebastian was still living, hidden beneath layers of tarnish and grime, but certainly there, and she would polish him back to his original splendour and shine. She nodded, and they made plans to meet again sooner rather than later because later was an awful prospect in this touching moment of reunion.

She left the greenhouse with his hand in hers, a changed woman, gladly leaving the bodies of their former selves on the floor, all akimbo and forgotten, a distraction for the pain of the past to feast upon, releasing them from the confines of their creation.

Love is a murder, after all.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Okay this idea has been rotting my brain all night and i need to get it out; i may turn this into a full fic (there’s so much more to eddie and how he died), but here’s some paranormal romance steddie! (with a nod to the @azrielgreen -verse at the end 😉)

edit: i've started posting the full fic! on tumblr | on AO3

—

imagine ghost!eddie haunting the estate that was built overtop where his trailer had been

ghost!eddie becoming corporeal(ish) every halloween, letting his rage fuel the poltergeist rumors at the old estate.

the forest hills estate sits empty since being completed, until Steve Harrington moves in from Indianapolis.

Steve Harrington who uses the inheritance from his grandfather to fix up the old place, not knowing the rumors, the stories, that have been floating around the last nearly 40 years.

Steve, who ends up learning about them from a pack of young teens riding by the front gate on their bikes.

“You know that place is haunted as fuck, right?” says the red head.

“Language!” he scowls at her, only to get an eye roll from her and the gangly, greasy looking one. “And no, I didn’t know that. Is that why all my cabinets are open every morning when I wake up?” he asks. And they really had been, he kinda figured that there was something going on in that house but hadn’t felt threatened by whatever presence was there.

He relishes in their spooked faces.

“A girl died there and her boyfriend killed the guy who did it soon after.” the one with the high top fade said earnestly.

“Allegedly, Lucas! Allegedly!” this time it’s the one with the curly hair and cap. “He always thought it was him but there was literally a letter.”

“He could’ve faked it, Dustin!” the gangly one snarks at his friend.

“It’s not likely, handwriting forensics concluded it to be her handwriting.” oof, this kid desperately needs a haircut.

“POINT IS.” the red head yells over the boys. It must’ve been a regular occurrence though, as they all fall silent (or silent enough while still bickering). She turns back to an amused Steve, “He likes metal music. If you play it, I’m sure he’ll leave your cabinets alone.”

“He who? The ghost?”

She nods, “Yep!”

So he does, picks up some retro vinyl to play (along with playing some tracks from his phone over his speaker while he works on the house), figuring if the guy died in the 80s, he’d probably like the sound of them better.

He plays the music, finds he likes some of it, talks to this mystery ghost as he goes about the house finishing projects. Throws some classic rock on sometimes too, saying “Hey ghost man, I’m sorry but I can’t listen to this much metal at a time. Hope Zepplin is okay.”

ghost!eddie who will always use some of his ghostly persuasion over things to spin the vinyl backwards on the turntable during ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

Steve, who does some research and learns about his supposed ghost, yells in greeting as soon as he’s back from the library, “Hi, Eddie!! I’m home!” reveling in the swirls of cold air that spin around him in response along with just a ghost (hah) of a whispered “Hi, Stevie..” in his ear.

Steve and Eddie, who get closer and closer over the months, learning anything and everything about one another. Steve goes through a lot of paper in the first couple weeks, asking a question and waiting for the paper with ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ written on it to flutter in an unseen breeze. Which paper scribbled with a different color marker to fly up into his lap (Eddie’s favorite color is blue, Steve tells him his is yellow).

Steve, beginning to see the shadow of another person in the corner of his eye more often the not as the summer winds into fall and the repairs he needed done are wrapping up.

By September there’s no denying the figure he sees reaching a hand out to flick up the answer to a question, or the laughter he hears coming from it after a particularly bad joke.

The shadow is Eddie; and Steve is starting to make out details about his ghost.

The long fluffy hair, the slim waist, the dark eyes that pierce through shadow against the slowly brightening skin beneath.

Eddie, who realizes Steve must be able to see him and starts staying away more often then not, afraid of what he’d see in that beautiful face when he’s finally his old boring self again. Can’t bear to see that disappointment on the face of this man he’s come to care so much for (read: fully crushing on).

He retreats fully by mid September, sticking to the far less quantifiable shadows in the house and between the walls.

Steve still tries, bless him. Leaves questions all over the place, hoping to see them answered. Eddie does, every night, wanting Steve to know he’s still here.

A week later, “Eddie, I know you can hear me, can you make sure to answer this one as soon as you can? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I figured we maybe show off our house—the house—now that everything’s done.”

‘Our house!! He said our house!!!’

Eddie looks at what his Steve left on the new kitchen counter that night.

“Halloween Party?” is scrawled on an open page of their now worn notebook.

Something hot floods his chest at that. Steve wanting to make sure he’s okay with that many people being here at once. Eddie knows damn well what the feeling is and he’s not about to waste his corporeal time this year, he’s going to do something with it besides wreaking havoc (on the house at least).

Halloween arrives, and many in the small town want a glimpse into the old estate. There are people everywhere, costumes and all.

Steve’s proud of all the hard work he’s done to the place but he still misses Eddie. Wishes he could be here to see what had become of the place he’d hated for so long. See it for real.

Halfway through the night is when it happens.

The party is in full swing, his ballroom full of people and music and food. His playlist changes over to Bowie.

Steve smiles to himself at the memory the song pulls forward. Still soon after learning about Eddie and staring their questions and answers thing, Steve had put on Labyrinth, laughing at how frantically the “i LOVED it!” paper had swirled around in the air after asking Eddie’s opinion.

A new face he hadn’t seen in the crowd before catches his eye. This man coming down the staircase is striking. Long, dark, curly hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, lean legs in off white pants, sparkling dark blue jacket, slim waist… He’s so gorgeous, so ethereal, he can’t be real.

Okay, nope, everyone else in the room is parting for this man. So, definitely real.

Steve stands as the man approaches, a hand extended. Keeping their eyes locked on each other, the man leads Steve by the hand to the center of the room.

The man smirks at Steve, still stunned, and arranges their arms. Then they’re dancing, swirling around the space the crowd created for them.

Steve feels like he’s floating.

He’s dancing to As The World Falls Down with a breathtaking man he now realizes is definitely dressed as the Jareth to his Sarah.

Steve finally finds his voice, “Hi..” It’s barely a whisper.

The man smirks, scoffs a laugh, but whispers back: “Hi Stevie.”

Steve’s brain screeches to a halt, and the man’s eyes sparkle with mischief (and a little bit of apprehension).

He can’t compute the information right away, frantically scrambling for a logical explanation. Some way for someone to know about Eddie enough to imitate him, to know about ‘Stevie’..but comes up with nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

“Eddie…is that really you?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s really me.”

Eddie brings their foreheads together and they sway to the rest of the song, Eddie softly singing along.

The song ends and Steve pulls Eddie through the crowd and out into the garden.

His mind is still swirling, so he clings onto Eddie’s arms just as much as Eddie clings to his.

“Eddie—“

“Wait, Steve, let me..” Eddie clears his throat and explains everything. How he died, how long he spent his one night of reality trying to keep people away from where he and his best friend had died. “I don’t want to waste tonight, but I’m afraid if I—if I tell you how I feel about you…I will be complete. Done with my unfinished business and all that.”

“How do you know?”

Eddie chuckles. “The Moon.”

Steve now fully, painfully aware of how little remains of the night, how little time he may have with Eddie altogether, decides he doesn’t have time to unpack that. So he says “Kiss me. Eddie, please, kiss m—“

Eddie does, and the Moon smiles down on her beloveds.

[benedictscanvas]

Hi loveee❤️

So i have a request for Steve Rogers x reader

So basically the reader is shy! Insecure maybe

She is really quiet and has a badd crush on the captain but is not able to express her feelings necessarily. Overthinks alot. It's Steve's birthday and she works really hard on knitting a scarf because he once told her his ma used to knit him scarves. She writes a sweet letter for him along with it finally expressing her feelings. On his birthday they sit around and he decides to open everyone's gifts. She starts thinking her gift is nothing compared to tony's bmw or nat's gold wrist watch and basically tells him that she had ordered his gift but it got delayed. He finds out about her scarf and letter and confronts her💕

Ends with alot of fluffff 😌❤️

Ik this is all over the place but i needed to vent this idea here😂

This is utterly adorable and so are youuuu, thank you for a gorgeous request, my lovely <3 I got a little carried away with it! || 2.2k words of pure fluff

The little parcel is wrapped in deep red paper, tied with a crisp blue ribbon and the ends are curled with scissors. You've hidden it underneath the sofa where you're sat in its corner, both feet on the floor in an extra attempt to conceal its whereabouts. It's difficult not to be a little embarrassed by the effort you've put into it, but you keep reminding yourself the kind of person Steve is. How much he appreciates effort above end result.

But still, the reason it's hidden at all is in case you bottle it and can't hand it to him. You feel safer with a get out clause.

"Go on, Cap, start with me. We all know you save the best til first."

Tony, of course, is the one to kick proceedings off by handing Steve a golden envelope. So extreme, and funnily enough, so not Steve. But you knew that theatrics were Tony's thing and that whatever was inside would likely be perfect for him.

And you were right. Inside the envelope were two tickets to see the new play on Broadway that Steve had been dying to see. Tickets were so scarce even the Avengers themselves had been having trouble securing them, but Tony was a cut above the rest. Steve looked genuinely thrilled, far more than he had when he'd seen the envelope.

"This is too kind, Tony, thank you. Really."

A look of understanding passed between them. There was a lump in your throat. You subtly adjusted your foot so that your heel nudged the present further under the sofa.

"We get it, he's very rich," Sam said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "But mine's a knockout, seriously. You're gonna crap yourself, Tin Man."

He launched a present across the room at Steve who caught it with little effort, but shook his head at the room's antics. This mass present opening had, of course, not been his idea. He would much rather have done all this individually with everyone, or better yet, not done it at all and have nobody even remember that it was his birthday. But they'd all insisted behind his back. Obviously. You'd been there, and wanted to speak up about whether it would really be Steve's thing, but you didn't want to sound like you were knocking their kindness.

Sam had bought him a new sketchbook, but it was circular, and bore the design of his shield on the front. Thoughtful and, again, expensive, according to Steve, who had immediately examined the quality of the paper inside with wide, appreciative eyes.

Nat had bought him a new watch, and swore she got it completely legally and above board. That was expensive too. Vision and Wanda produced a gorgeous vintage record player that she had apparently enchanted to play whatever Steve wanted to hear. Bruce had built him an actual motorbike.

It was all a bit much. Yes, you were an Avenger too and you could afford whatever you would have wanted to get Steve, but you'd really thought homemade would be a million times more appreciated. Would show just how important he had become to you.

Unlike Bruce, unfortunately your version of homemade could not include a new bike.

Everyone's presents came and went while you were stuck in your own head, struggling not to hyperventilate, until Bucky placed a friendly hand on your shoulder.

"Just you left, doll."

You hadn't even seen what Bucky had given him, lost in your own musings. You were sure it would have been beautiful, Bucky knew him inside out. It was clear that your mind had been made up, anyway. You plastered a sheepish look on your face that wasn't all that made up.

"I meant to say before we started, your present hasn't arrived yet, Steve," you said, sorrowful, even though he was smiling at you as if what you'd said had no meaning, "I'm really sorry. I'll get it to you as soon as its here."

"I hope you know that none of you had to get me anything anyway," he said honestly, looking around the room before his gaze landed back on you, "Please don't worry."

You smiled, small and unconvincing, nodding your agreement. You rose from your seat, assuming the proceedings had finished for now before the not-so-surprise party later that evening. You delivered a final back-heeled kick to the present as you stood up, just to make sure it was fully under the sofa.

"I'm still sorry," you said quietly, "I need to go and get ready, I'll see you all later."

You turned and all but fled the room, not staying to hear Tony's confusion about you not usually needing any time at all to get ready for anything. You had specifically been trying not to make a scene, and somehow you'd made one anyway. It was difficult to keep the tears in your eyes at bay.

You just felt silly. It was something you hadn't really felt since high school until this year, and now you often felt a little silly anytime you left Steve's presence. He was just so good and so unbelievably attractive and made you feel so utterly at home when you spent time with him - it was difficult not to feel silly afterwards when you lay on your bed and romanticised your every interaction.

When you were actually with him, though, he never made you feel silly. He made you feel funny and intelligent and altogether giddy sometimes, but never silly. The way he valued your words, your opinions, your company, it was impossible for your heart not to skip inside your chest.

You retreated to your bed now, flopping down right in the centre of it, tired and crying. Just a little bit. He was so kind to you, all the time. He would've pretended he loved the scarf. He would've liked it, probably, but he couldn't love it, not when it was such a tiny gesture compared with everyone else's.

And the note. Shit, amongst all the dread and anxiety, you had forgotten the note. Neatly taped to the parcel and longer than it should have been. For Steve's eyes only. Practically a confession. If you hadn't have fled, you would've been forced to give that to him in front of anyone, which categorically could not happen.

"Y/N? You in there?"

Steve. You froze, then hastily wiped at your eyes, checking them in the mirror. They were a little red, but you hoped he wasn't feeling observant on his birthday. Plastering on a smile, you opened the door. He filled the entire doorframe, all broad shoulders and-

You tried to stop that thought before it blossomed.

"Sorry, just picking out an outfit. Everything okay?"

"I came to ask you that," he said, and he almost looked embarrassed but you had no idea why, "Why wouldn't you give me your present?"

You frowned.

"I told you-"

He brought the parcel, your parcel, out from behind his back. Ah. You must have kicked it hard enough for it to come out the other side. Stupid. The embarrassment suddenly made sense. He gestured for you to let him inside, since you were still blocking the entrance, so you traipsed over to sit on your bed. If he was looking embarrassed, you guessed he'd read the note. This was torture.

"I haven't opened it," he said quickly, shutting your down and sitting next to you. He kept his distance, "And I won't, if you don't want me to. But I'd really, really like to, if you'll let me."

"You read the note?" you asked, slumped and resigned to your fate, surprised by the confusion that darted across his features. You noticed the present was the wrong way up. He hadn't turned it over. For some reason, maybe self-destruction or a cruel strand of hope, you turned it over for him, to the side where the bow and the note were on full display. Untouched.

"I didn't see it," he murmured to himself, "Can I?"

Still he waited for your permission. Such a lovely man, with such lovely eyes that, even now, were looking at you with delicate care. It ached. You nodded.

He untied the bow with careful fingers that almost looked shaky in the low lamp light you'd curated within your room. The envelope was opened with equal care, and soon he was holding the A5 paper in front of his face, eyes scanning through the words.

Steve,

You told me once that your ma used to knit you scarves, that sometimes you wished you still had one of them now. I know it could never be the same, but I hope this keeps you warmer than you would be without it. One of your gifts, I think, is to bring warmth to everyone around you and the warmth you have brought to my own life is indescribable. I could never repay it, but this is a step in the right direction, I hope.

Happy birthday, Steve.

Yours, Y/N

You held your breath as he read. You could remember each line painstakingly, having taken so long to craft it. Even he wasn't oblivious enough not to recognise the meaning behind your words, the feeling that weaved itself around the page.

It had been too long. When you braved a glance at his face, his eyeline told you he was reading it a second time. You watched him get to the end and start from the beginning. Again.

You may have been unbelievably nervous, but it didn't erase your impatience.

"You're going to have to say something at some point, Steve," you breathed, not realised how out of breath you'd gotten just watching him. His eyes snapped to yours like he'd forgotten you were there. Wide and disbelieving. Impossible to read, "Or you can just leave, I guess, if you want. We don't have to talk about it again, it was such a stupid-"

He shook his head, stopping your train of thought from spiralling. But instead of speaking, he set the letter down neatly on his lap and ripped open the wrapping paper, pulling out a knitted scarf that was striped brown and beige and designed to match his leather jacket perfectly. You'd searched for the right yarn for weeks. You'd never tell him.

"How long?"

His words were little more than a whisper. There were so many things he could have been talking about.

"How long what?"

"How long did it take?" he said, turning the fabric over in his hands, running his fingers over the stitches with fingers that were definitely trembling now, "To make it, I mean?"

"Oh, not long-" you began, but stopped when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. You felt that lump in your throat again. You'd never seen him cry. It was impossible to tell him anything but the truth, "A few months. Whenever I had a free moment and not every single day, but a few months. Five, actually."

He just stared. You kept talking.

"I just wanted it special for you. I'm sorry I lied. Everyone spent so much, I got embarrassed. It was silly."

"Not silly," he said, firm and serious, like he was angry you'd even think it, "You're not silly. You're perfect, this is perfect. I can't- I can't believe you'd remember such a tiny comment from so long ago."

You shrugged. He'd just called you perfect and you were trying not to glow.

"You'd remember. You always remember things I've said, however small or silly. Wanted someone to do that for you."

"You're not silly, you've never been silly," he says again, clutching the scarf and staring down at it again rather than you, "I only remember that stuff because I'm so in love with you I can't stand it. I never thought you'd-"

Now you were lightheaded. Had he...? He was still staring at the scarf, awestruck and looking completely oblivious to what he'd just said. But he meant it. Steve never said anything he didn't mean. Now you were glowing, bursting, grinning and you didn't try to stop it.

"You never thought I'd be so in love with you too that I can barely breathe with it?" you supplied, watching again as his watery eyes snapped up to yours once more, shock bleeding from him, "You thought wrong, I guess. Surprise."

You giggled at yourself, because you were talking nonsense and Steve loved you. It was heaven when he giggled too, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, not the scarf, and then offering you the material. You took it wordlessly, understanding between you as there always was, and wound it around his neck. It fit perfectly.

He took your hand from the scarf you were adjusting before you could react and kissed your thumb. At your sheer delight, he kissed your forefinger, then your middle, ring, pinky and then right back up to the thumb, tiny little kisses. He stared at your hand.

"Magic," he said softly, taking your hand and his to cup your cheek. You couldn't help but close your eyes, "Promise me you'll never feel embarrassed with me again. I can't bear it. You're just magic, you have to see it."

For him, you could try. For now, all you could do was lean in to kiss him and hope you'd get to do it forever.

if you'd like to request something, please do so here. i'd love to hear from you, sunflower <3

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today. 

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently. 

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago. 

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard. 

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her. 

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is. 

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.” 

“Is that all?” 

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.” 

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down. 

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.” 

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.” 

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.” 

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I do.” I tell her. 

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about. 

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties? 

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot. 

 Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school.  I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class.  I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write.  I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could.  I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season. 

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums. 

Please don’t feel obligated, though. 

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number. 

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply. 

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose. 

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill. 

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight. 

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show. 

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching. 

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans. 

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.” 

“What?” She snaps. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head. 

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar.  I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself. 

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta.  I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money? 

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins. 

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap.  It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice.  I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips. 

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed. 

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink. 

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.” 

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?” 

“What are you doing?” He asks me. 

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?” 

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it. 

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up. 

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking. 

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can. 

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?” 

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over. 

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing. 

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now? 

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?” 

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.” 

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.” 

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?” 

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well. 

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot. 

My phone dings and I see your name pop up.  Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people. 

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled. 

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip. 

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole. 

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern. 

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you. 

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you. 

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee. 

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly. 

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.” 

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert. 

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them. 

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?” 

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.” 

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch. 

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away. 

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down. 

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?” 

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.” 

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another. 

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly. 

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.  

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying. 

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love. 

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.” 

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?” 

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.” 

Heart exploding. 

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?” 

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.” 

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you. 

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?” 

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee. 

Yeah, I missed you too. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

[xnchxntmxnt]

okay I've finally figured out the prompt situation 😅

congrats on 800 followers and here's to many more to come!!

for the event, could I get a drabble of diluc with the prompts …you realize that you long to see them again and “i’ve been afraid of changing because I’ve built my life around you" (landslide by fleetwood mac) ? diluc's pov if it's not too much to ask for?

congrats again 👍 you are so cool

ok jack. jack remember ily thank you for the notes (this broke my heart)

Coming Home

Character: Diluc Ragnvindr

Warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, a lot of diluc backstory that may not be 100% accurate but I'm p sure I got it

Notes: ok so. The “moment” hit already and he’s home yada yada yada im not following the prompt what else is new /hj I TRIED ok. not proofread I'm sorry

gn reader

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800 event (please join)

It was a long walk home. 

The time without you was terrifying. He insisted he needed time away, time to think—to be angry, to grieve, to process it all—without the fear of lashing out on you. 

His father passed due to the Fatui’s traps and Delusions and went on a rampage through the country. He couldn’t hold still, he couldn’t think, and you didn’t deserve to be around him and deal with the results of something that wasn’t your problem. 

Despite how much he still believed all that, he knew he couldn’t run forever. 

He hesitated for a long moment but decided to ring the doorbell. He rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting anxiously for the door to open. When it opened, he gave a small, awkward wave to Adelinde.

Her mouth opened slightly as she struggled to put the words together to speak. “Master Diluc—“

He shook his head. “Please, just….can I come in?”

She put on her best face, taking a moment to steady herself. “Of course. The winery will always have a place for you.”

He followed her a few feet in the doorway when he heard another voice from the top of the stairs. 

“Adelinde? Who is it?” you asked, followed by a quiet gasp. 

Diluc, using every ounce of strength he could muster in his mind, raised his head to look at you. He didn’t deserve to see you—he didn’t deserve you—but he had to know you were okay. 

The next thing he knew, you ran down the stairs to him and jumped into his arms. He tried to cover his groan of pain with a cough—he had more injuries than he thought, initially—but wrapped his arms tightly around you. You were here, in his arms again. It was everything he’d wished he could be selfish and have for years before he had you, and everything he’d dreamed about in the time he spent away. 

“Diluc,” you said in a hushed voice, pulling away enough to look at him. 

That look said everything. He knew he’d broken your trust, he knew you were upset. If you’d left on a rampage for several weeks to a foreign country and just left a note and occasionally sent letters home, he would be angry too. It wasn’t fair to you, and he knew that. 

“Go get a shower, darling. You smell like the woods.”

He smiled. Genuinely, actually smiled for the first time in ages. You always managed to pick him up whenever anything was wrong, usually with an ill-timed joke or comforting words. Usually both. He nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he muttered, not entirely sure how much he was thanking you for. 

Later that evening, after a shower, a proper meal, and Adelinde insisting on helping bandage him up, he made his way to the bedroom you shared before he left. In the time he was still in Mondstadt, he didn’t have the heart to go through his father’s things in the master bedroom. 

He knocked quietly and entered, unsure if you were asleep. He knew it was late when he arrived home and even later now that he’d settled in. It was nice to wear the soft, clean clothes Adelinde prepared for him after nearly wrapping him head to toe in bandages. 

You were reading, simply lounging in bed. He stood by the door, tense and unsure of what was going to happen from here. He was home, you seemed happy to see him, but he knew you had to be upset. It was completely justified, he knew that it wasn’t fair for him to up and leave like that. 

“I-”

“Don’t,” you said softly, closing the book and setting it on the nightstand next to you. Your voice wasn’t cold or harsh by any means—you were calm. And when you looked at him, he only saw his beautiful lover that had always stood by him, no matter if he was in an argument with his immature brother or was injured fighting off hillychurls. Maybe this wouldn’t be much different. 

You held your arms out for him and he hesitated. Would you really want to hold him, after everything he did? Everything you didn’t even know he did? 

But your eyes silently pleaded with him, so he laid next to you. Immediately, he felt your arms gingerly around him, brushing over the bandages and minimal amount of bare skin between them. He melted into you, having kept himself from that kind of love for so long—he didn't realize how much he missed you until he was there with you again. 

Silently, the tears poured from his eyes. His breath shook and he buried his face in your shoulder. As gently as possible, he felt your hands brush through his slightly-damp hair, brushing pieces out of his face and running over his head soothingly. 

“It’s alright,” you mutter, kissing the top of his head. 

“It’s not,” he tries to argue, realizing very quickly how quickly the exhaustion was hitting him. “I’m–I’m so sorry—”

You hush him gently, tilting his head to look at you. “Diluc, we don’t have to talk tonight. You’re home, you’re safe. That’s all that matters to me—but you’re exhausted. I can see it in your eyes. We can talk tomorrow. For now, sleep. It’s late.”

He took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I love you,” he muttered. 

It took a long time for his mind to shut down. He couldn’t stop thinking—there was so much he felt like he had to explain. So much had happened, he’d missed so much since he was home. But he was home now, and he guessed that was the important part. After what felt like ages, he let himself relax against you and eventually fell asleep, enjoying the feeling of you running your hands through his hair. In a world where he now didn’t have anyone, and he didn’t know who he could or couldn’t trust, he knew he had you, at least in this moment. 

~~

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing

‘Cause I built my life around you

taglist

@grays321 @dear-koi @animated-moon @dilfzuku @falling4fandoms @sirimirihiro @momoewn @poeberlyavenue

[wordy-little-witch]

Ghost!Roger Au is so good, I wonder if other ghosts have decided to talk with Perona as well? Will Rouge also give a shovel talk too?

If Luffy and his crew comes over, will Ace come out and start talking about Luffy in his classic fashion? So many ideas could happen

YEAH

Perona absolutely talks to many spirits, some kinder than others, and when she learns Buggy can see and talk to them easily, she is absolutely vibrating beyond the physical plane.

Rouge absolutely gives her own shovel talks. Somehow hers is scarier that Roger's. Perona wants to be like granny Rouge one day.

I genuinely believe Perona got Zoro to do a board session with her over the two years, so he knows she has it and can talk to spirits ((and they send letters bc they're siblings send tweet)), so when they all meet up, Buggy is trying - in vain - to escape a rubbery tangled death trap that is supposed to be a hug, and Zoro is staring his not-dad and not-sister with the protective fury of a thousand suns.

It only gets complicated when, between one moment and the next Buggy goes stock still. Perona tilts her head with a hum. The clown just falls over and Luffy is giggling his head off while Mihawk and Crocodile straighten up. The strawhats are watching on warily.

Buggy, still smothered, just goes "Pero-chan, be a dear and pull our your board please. Grandpa is being annoying again."

"Okay mama Bug!"

She proceeds to lay out a comically large board, sets a piece of wood down and nobody even touches the planchet before it's zooming across the board

L-U-F-F-Y-L-U-F-F-Y-L-U-F-F-Y-L-U-

"YEAH WE GET IT, GET ON WITH IT!!!"

H-I

"Oh my gods"

It's a hot mess honestly and many people are Suspicious of Foul Play, especially because Ace is such a sore spot for Luffy even now, but Lu's smarter than he lets on. He asks for proof that Ace is there.

S-H-I-T-T-Y-G-R-A-M-P-S-K-I-L-L-E-D-K-E-V-I-N

Luffy bursts into tears. The crews are about to explode. Buggy's still being used as a stuffed animal by a teenage boy.

Luffy babbles about how it IS Ace and yeah Gramps DID kill Kevin and how is this happening and he's sorry and-

C-R-Y-B-A-B-Y

"You jerk!!!"

Roger and Rouge get to formally meet Luffy then, and Ace introduces Roger as his 'not as shitty old man', which is high praise.

Hours later, Luffy rests his head against Buggy's shoulder and asks how he knew to ask Pinkie for the board.

"My Haki's not built like everyone else," he says haltingly. "I see.... stuff that isn't really supposed to be seen."

"Magic eyes?"

"Basically."

"Cool.... does.... does Shanks know?"

"About the magic eyes or about Roger?"

"Yeah"

"Then yeah. He does. Old Fucker haunts us both"

"Huh...."

There's silence for a bit.

Buggy's not sure why he wants to break it, why he wants to say anything. He still does

"Firefist spends a lot of time away from here. He checks on his crewmates, he's said. But he checks on you, too. Came back one time raving mad about some 'blond twink ass' having the audacity to be alive, for some reason. But he watches over you the most, I think."

"Shishishi... yeah. Sabo died when we were kids. But he didn't die! Just got amnesia. He's better now."

"Sabo?"

"Blond twink"

"Ah. Well. Kid, your life is a fucking drama."

"Yep! It's fun, huh? Thanks, uncle Buggy"

"Don't call me that"

"I'm gonna do it anyway."

"Ugh..."

Roger and Rouge are watching on warmly. ((Ace would be too if he wasn't currently playing with the bonfire and making Chopper laugh))

[birb-boyo]

The Chain as Things I Learned About the Byzantine Empire

AKA: I got a 100% on the Byzantine test so I’m making it everyone’s problem

:p @vio-starzz @shadowlinktheshadow @trippygalaxy @mushr0oms-and-m0ss @treasure-goblin

Time

Emperor Justinian saw all these random and incoherent laws and went, “Is anyone gonna make that make sense?” And not waited for and answer

Basically, the Empire had all these laws that went for different places and people were getting confused, even himself, so he decided to end the maddness

He condensed the laws into the needed and useful ones and scrapped the “wtf??” ones

This made it easier on them and himself

Sky

So there was this guy, St. Cyril, and he was Christian and he wanted places like Russia to be Christian too

Problem was, the languages were different and it was hard to teach when they couldn’t understand you

So what did buddy old pal St. Cyril do? He made his own fucking language

It’s crazy, look up the Cyrillic alphabet I’m serious-

Warriors

They made a 14 mile long wall-

No, it’s not a Great Wall of China, but still

It was all a one wall protection unit for their capital, Constantinople(modern day Istanbul)

It was a good idea, I mean, they were on a peninsula so they only really needed to protect on side on land🤷🏽‍♂️

Wild

When Justinian was Emperor, he looked at silk and was like, “is anyone gonna steal that and make their empire rich?” And not waited for an answer🤷🏽‍♂️

Justinian was honestly the best part of the unit-

Wild is just the smuggling of the silk guys-

Wind

Wind is the Schism of Christianity

Basically, the two churches, Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox, hated each other

Rome, basically the capital of the ROMan Catholic church was close to being invaded, so they asked for help

They were denied help and the Pope, the head of the Roman Catholic church, got pissed

So the Pope wrote to the Emperor and the Patriarch, the head of the Eastern Orthodox church

In this letter(at least I think it was a letter) the Pope basically said, “Fuck you, you’re no longer allowed to be Christian” but didn’t actually say that. The Pope just excommunicated them

So the Patriarch went, “Fuck you too, and now you’re not allowed to be Christian” and excommunicated the Pope💀💀💀

This is Wind because the two sides excommunicated each other out of spite and we know that Wind has a lot of that

Legend

Bro is the Hagia Sofia

Please look it up, it looks so pretty-

As mentioned earlier, Justinian ordered the smuggling of silk so the people who liked in the modern day Europe area didn’t have to travel all the way to China to get it

Justinian used these riches to build the Hagia Sofia

The Hagia Sofia was originally a Christian church, as Christianity was the main religion rip roman mythology

Later, the Byzantines were conquured by the Ottoman Turks, who were Muslims

The Ottomans turned the Hagia Sofia into a mosque and built those pillars you see in the picture when you see the modern version

Then, probably some 10-20 years ago, it was converted into a museum

The Hagia Sofia has been through a lot in the last, at least, 1000 years. Yet, she still stands, just like our emo rabbit boy

I can’t think of one for Twilight, Hyrule, or Four right now but if I do, I’ll make a part two

[augustinajosefina]

A request

Please suggest books to me! Preferably in the glove kink/lesbian space atrocities, urban fantasy or dark academia genres but I'll happily try any SF/fantasy at least once.

So far I've read and loved:

Before 2023

The Imperial Radch (Ancillary Justice/Sword/Mercy) - Ann Leckie

Jean le Flambeur (The Quantum Thief/The Fractal Prince/The Causal Angel) - Hannu Rajaniemi

The Windup Girl/The Water Knife - Paolo Bagicalupi

Memory of Water/The City of Woven Streets - Emmi Itäranta

2023

The Locked Tomb (Gideon/Harrow/Nona the Ninth) - Tamsyn Muir

The Masquerade (Traitor/Monster/Tyrant Baru Cormorant) - Seth Dickinson

Teixcalaan series (A Memory Called Empire/A Desolation Called Peace) - Arkady Martine

Machineries of Empire (Ninefox Gambit/Raven Stratagem/Revenant Gun/Hexarchate Stories) - Yoon Ha Lee

The Murderbot Diaries (All Systems Red to System Collapse) - Martha Wells

The Broken Earth (The Fifth Season/The Obelisk Gate/The Stone Sky) - N. K. Jemisin

Klara And The Sun - Kazuo Ishiguro

Xuya universe (The Citadel of Weeping Pearls/The Tea Master and the Detective/Seven of Infinities plus short stories) - Aliette de Bodard

This is How You Lose the Time War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

The Goblin Emperor/The Witness for the Dead/Grief of Stones - Katherine Addison

Some Desperate Glory - Emily Tesh

2024

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - V. E. Schwab

The Craft Sequence (Three Parts Dead/Two Serpents Rise/Full Fathom Five/Last First Snow/Four Roads Cross/Ruin of Angels) - Max Gladstone

Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution - R. F. Kuang

The Luminous Dead - Caitlin Starling

Last Exit - Max Gladstone

Dead Country - Max Gladstone

Read and liked:

The Moonday Letters - Emmi Itäranta

Great Cities (The City We Became/The World We Make) - N. K. Jemisin

Piranesi - Susanna Clarke

Autonomous - Annalee Newitz

Dead Djinn universe (A Master of Djinn/The Haunting of Tram Car 015/A Dead Djinn in Cairo/The Angel of Khan el-Khalili) - P. Djèlí Clark

Even Though I Knew the End - C. L. Polk

Station Eternity - Mur Lafferty

The Mythic Dream - Dominik Parisien & Navah Wolfe

Shades of Magic (A Darker Shade of Magic/A Gathering of Shadows/A Conjuring of Light/Fragile Threads of Power) - V. E. Schwab

The Stars Are Legion - Kameron Hurley

Ninth House/Hell Bent - Leigh Bardugo

Machine - Elizabeth Bear

Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield

She Is A Haunting - Trang Thanh Tran

Sisters of the Revolution - Jeff & Ann Vandermeer

Station Eleven - Emily St John Mandel

Nettle & Bone - T. Kingfisher

Was uncertain about:

Light From Uncommon Stars - Ryka Aoki

The Kaiju Preservation Society - John Scalzi

Paladin's Grace - T. Kingfisher

The House in the Cerulean Sea - TJ Klune

In the Vanishers Palace - Aliette de Bodard

Uprooted - Naomi Novik

What Moves The Dead - T. Kingfisher

And read and disliked:

To Be Taught, if Fortunate - Becky Chambers

A Psalm for the Wild-Built - Becky Chambers

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon

The Calculating Stars - Mary Robinette Kowal

The Space Between Worlds - Micaiah Johnson

How High We Go in the Dark - Sequoia Nagamatsu

Shadow and Bone - Leigh Bardugo

The Passage - Justin Cronin

(My pride insists I add that I have, in fact, read other books as well. Just to be clear.)

[louellaby]

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

taglist: @books-and-catears @owl778 @yourlocalgrass @kaiserkisser @hhurric4ne @amberheavendremurr @yu-ulda @bk-4-trash-fire

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER IV | CHAPTER V | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII | CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER IX | CHAPTER X | LOUE'S LETTER | EPILOGUE

F I N A L C H A P T E R

「 Forget-Me-Not 」

"M—MC...?! Wh-What are you doing back here in the Devildom? Aren't you supposed to be in the human world?!"

Everyone's eyes were fixed on Soley as she tried her best not to panic at the sight of you. Then, she set her gaze on Lucifer.

He saw the expectant look in her eyes as she was clearly pleading for help. She wanted him to shield her with his body, just like how he protected her from harm multiple times before. She wanted him hold her tightly against him and stroke her head while he questioned you about your unexpected appearance.

But nothing like that happened.

Lucifer didn't move an inch.

"What am I doing here?" You repeated her question as if it was the most stupidest thing you've ever heard. "I am the proud owner of this mansion, you see. Of course, I haven't had it built myself. This was a gift from Dia."

The prince walked into view and stood to your right while his butler Barbatos followed suit and stood to your left. Diavolo had a smile on his face. It was you who put it there the moment you said you were proud of the property.

The three of you walked down the stairs of the hall balcony so you could face the others on the same level. "I haven't left the realm at all, Soley. You clearly didn't know your place, and you still don't, so I thought I could... help you see it."

"You were too wrapped up in your own fantasies about being the only one who's loved that you didn't even notice you were being brought straight into a trap."

"W-Wait.. you mean.. since when—"

"Did you really think they're here to celebrate your birthday after the way you treated their beloved family?"

"I hope you don't mean you." She spat, rolling her dainty little fists. "You're not their family. You're just a human they didn't care enough for."

You smiled in response. She was finally starting to show her true colours.

"You see, that's where you're wrong, Soley." You took a step towards her, an action that made her take a step back. The anxious look on her face fueled you, making you grin like a mad person. The brothers did nothing but watch. They were all looking at you, completely proud of their precious human.

"I've always been their family even before anyone knew it. They care about me more than they made you think they care about you. Remember that in this place, Soley, you're nothing but a powerless little ant surrounded by a group of children with magnifying glasses."

The more you approached her, the more she stepped back. Her mind kept racing, trying to figure out every step of your plan. Too bad for her that you're already at the very last step.

Because she was distracted, she tripped over her own feet and stumbled on the marble flooring, yelping in pain. By the time she opened her eyes and came to, you were already standing in front of her, towering over her helpless figure. You could all hear her breathing getting more desperate; it was echoing through the halls. As she trembled in your gaze, she failed to realise that she was already surrounded by the same demons who made her believe she was special. Mammon and Satan were right behind her, waiting for you to give command.

You held your staring contest with Soley, ending in her failure as she tried to hold back her tears. She tried to look around for a way to escape.

That's when she realised her situation.

"Y-You can't hurt me! Any one of you! I'm important to the Devildom!" She exclaimed, glaring at everyone but mostly at you.

You knelt down in front of her with an amused expression on her face and asked, "Is that so? Please tell me your worth in this realm."

"I'm an exchange student of Diavolo! He said that I'm protected as long as I'm in the Devildom!"

"And who were supposed to be your protectors, hmm?" You added, smiling warmly as if to mock her. She tried to think of something when she realised the very answer to your question.

"That's right, Soley. The Seven Rulers of the Devildom and the ambassador from the Human Realm. Those eight were supposed to be your knights in shining armour; to take care of your every need and protect you when harm comes. But... they can't really do all that when they're the ones hunting you down, now can they?"

Soley felt small. She tried to hide her furious trembling, but she couldn't. Even her own body betrayed her. As she hung her head to keep you from seeing her pooling tears, she croaked, "S-Since when have you been... been planning th-this..?"

Her eyes widened, her head tilted upwards, and all eyes were suddenly directed at the source of someone's laughter— yours. You apologised for the sudden giggle and stared at Soley's watered green orbs. "I guess I can tell you now since, well, we're all trying to be nice here."

"You're not being nice here at all, MC."

"Now, now, Soley. There is no need to point out the obvious. I'm about to answer your question, so it's best if you just shut up and listen to me."

Silence fell onto the girl. Her eyes were focused on yours, waiting for you to continue talking. You were amused by how cooperative she was being, so you thought to reveal what you had been planned from the very beginning.

"I don't have a good feeling about that human," Mammon mentioned once again as he kept pacing back and forth. The others in the room, his younger brothers, just ignored his pacing and gathered all their thoughts.

"Isn't it obvious?" Levi asked, which got everyone's attention. The demon didn't look up from his game console and just kept talking. "That human doesn't like MC, or any of us for that matter."

"Levi's right." The fourth-born leaned back on his chair and nodded along with his brother's comment. "It's certainly possible that she'll do something to MC."

"What?!" Beel panicked, almost dropping his food. His twin brother, who was resting his head on Beel's lap, woke up because of Satan's statement.

"Do you think she'll really do that here?"

"Hey, by "do something to MC", I didn't mean she'll hurt them. At least not physically." The six of them shared worried glances before someone entered the room. It was you.

"MC, did you..."

"I heard every word from the beginning, Satan, and I agree with you. Soley was jealous, and it was clear as day when I went out with her earlier. She tried to ask me for help getting along with you guys, and I'm warning you that she'll be hanging around you all in the upcoming days, maybe even for the whole year."

"What?! MC, you can't do that to us!"

"Yeah, we don't want to be stuck with her! Especially not for a whole year!"

"Guys, I need your help here. I need to show her that I'm not someone she can mess with. And certainly not someone she can replace."

"S-So, everyone— everything.. they were all—"

"—lies, yes." You cut her off with a nod and an amused smile. "Ever since that day, the day we last went out together, everything had been planned by me. Of course, I can't really take all the credit; all of the demon brothers, as well as Diavolo and Barbatos; they all helped prepare everything. It wasn't scripted or anything, but it was all done as it should be. Would you like for me to list them all?"

"No, ple—"

"First, the brothers making you feel like you were the most special person to them. I'm sorry, but in all honesty, they couldn't bear your presence. None of us could. I'm impressed that they managed to continue their act for almost a year."

"Of course, MC! We didn't want to disappoint you!"

"Thank you! I'm so proud of all of you!"

"Wh—

"Hush now, Soley, I'm not done talking." You snapped and continued counting with your fingers. "Second, the brothers made you think that I was no longer important to them by stopping to be around me. It hurt all of us, but it will all be worth it by the end of today."

"What do you mean by th—"

"I said, hush," you snapped again. "You're a noble lady, Soley. You should know better than to interrupt a higher ranking person." The girl's brows narrowed, but she held her tongue. You continued to speak.

"Third, the brother's overprotection. I mean, our overprotection of you. You know that we tried to keep you safe, right? Of course, we needed to do it for our plan to succeed. If you got in trouble with another demon, well... that would spoil our fun, wouldn't it?"

"Fourth, that farewell letter. Let me guess, you somehow destroyed it before any of the brothers could read it. Oh, but not to worry, I sent them a picture of it before leaving it to you. I needed to make sure it was believable enough. And it sure was when one of them thought it was actually real."

The brothers all looked with smirks on their face at the Avatar of Greed, who glared at the rest of them, but he did his best to keep quiet for you.

You scoffed in amusement the moment you saw the deep terror in Soley's face. You reached out and squished her cheeks together. Her body flinched at your sudden touch. "All of that, my dear, all of it— was just a bunch of planned lies. Do you know why? It's because no one, and I mean no one, could ever replace me."

With one look from you, Mammon and Satan grabbed her arms and pulled her up on her feet. She struggled to no avail. She kept struggling, and you just shrugged it off, getting up on your own feet and leaning in closer to her ear. With a low voice, you whispered, "Oh, and by the way, my favourite flowers are scorpion grasses. They're otherwise known as forget-me-nots."

You retreated your head back to see the horrified look on her face. "So please, Lady Soley..."

"... don't forget me."

「 CHAPTER IX | LOUE'S LETTER 」

[romione-trope-fest]

Title: Perfect Prefect Present

Author: Nena-96, Nena96 on ao3

Selected Trope: OOTP

Rating- T

Brief Summary: Ron is transfixed uwith the thought of being the New Gryffindor Prefect, when an idea of using his new Cleansweep entered his mind. However, Hermione who was wearing a pink robe and bunny slippers was there to stop him.

Word Count: 2,672

Relevant triggers: None

Ron couldn’t help staring at the scarlet banner that was hanging up above, he was surprised that his mum had somehow managed to create it in such short notice. He didn’t expect her to make such a fuss about him being the new Gryffindor Prefect, especially since he’s the fourth Weasley to become one. He had placed his prefect badge inside the pocket of his trousers, originally he was going to wear it on his jumper but the thought of Fred and George taking the mickey out of him made him think again. Besides, it was better that way, he was keeping it clean and out of harm's way, just like a good Prefect would do. It was truly unbelievable that he was selected to hold such a position at Hogwarts, maybe the Mirror of Erised wasn’t lying about him becoming Head Boy.

Merlin's saggy balls, that would be wicked. That would be better than the Chudley Cannons winning the Quidditch World Cup. The team did let go of its former coach, so it's possible that this year’s season would be better than the last. Blimey, that would be absolutely brilliant, but he didn’t want to be overly optimistic because things don’t always go as planned, but there’s no harm in manifesting a great year for his team.

Ron shook his head, as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and brought out his badge. He traced his freckled finger upon the letter P, the hard ridges made him realize that this was in fact reality and not just another dream. He was chosen to be Gryffindor’s Prefect and damn it, he was going to prove that he deserves this more than anyone else. He might be the fourth Weasley to become Prefect but that only meant that he was going to be different.

Yeah, first it was his older brother Bill, then it was the second eldest Charlie, right after that it was Percy, which in all honestly wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Then it was him, Ronald B. Weasley, to say he was shocked was an understatement but he was also filled with immense pride. Ron didn’t want to overthink and enjoy this night, his mum had gone all out for the celebration and he wasn’t going to sit out the fun.

During the celebration that his mum had thrown, he was shocked when Mad-Eye congratulated him. Even though he was glaring at him with his normal eye, while his other eye was swiveling all around. Most likely keeping a lookout for anything that would go amiss, you know Constant Vigilance , Regardless of the awkwardness he felt proud that one of the greatest most ruthless Auror had congratulated him. Hell, even Tonks, another great Auror, all a bit clumsy at times if you ask him, was also glad he was selected to be a Prefect. She even gave him some wicked new tips to use on his brand fucking new broom that his mum had got him.

Fuck.

He couldn’t believe that his mum had brought him a new Cleansweep, if nobody was around he might have fucking cried. It wasn’t just because he got a brand new broom it was the fact that he could have something that was only his and not just another hand-me-down. Sure, it wasn’t a Nimbus, because he knew it was expensive and he didn’t want to have his mum waste her galleons on him.

His new Cleansweep was everything he wanted, the handle was made of Spanish oak and it also had built-in vibration control, which would come in handy when it gets windy up in the Quidditch pitch. Ron had to try his best to not rush outside with his broom and do a couple laps in the sky.

Hell, maybe he could go for a fly, while the others are asleep. It wouldn't do any harm, not like anyone would see him. He could try and nick the invisibility cloak for a few hours, not like Harry would mind.

Yes, fuck yes…that’s exactly what he’ll do.

Ron pulled away from his thoughts and looked around, he tried to listen for any movements upstairs, once satisfied with the quietness he walked over to where he placed his Cleansweep. He picked it up in the most gentle manner possible, his fingers closed over the handle of the boom and was ready to make his way out from the basement.

Everything was perfect, Ron managed to make it up the stairs so quietly that even Moody would be proud of his stealth. Once he got to the very top of the stairs, he turned to close the basement door slowly, making sure not to awaken the others. Once satisfied with the closed door, he nodded his head and grabbed his broom tightly. Before turning around and almost falling straight to his arse, in fear. Ron dropped his broom to the floor before clutching at his chest and trying to somehow retrieve his soul that momentarily left his body, when he was face to face with Hermione.

It wasn’t that his bushy-haired friend scares him ... .well come to think of it he is fully aware of what she is capable of doing. For crying out loud, Hermione had set flames to Snape’s robes, but then again that wasn’t scary, that was hilarious. Bloody brilliant, if he might add…he would pay to see that happen again as a matter of fact, but no that wasn’t why he almost woke up the entire Grimmauld Place. It was because the girl who currently had her hands on her hips and some kind of green junk on her face. Literally her entire face was covered in that gunk, he almost was going to say that she resembles the mountain troll that he had taken down in first year in the girl’s bathroom. Then again she was loads more beautiful than- wait, what the hell, Weasley you shouldn’t think Hermione is beautiful she’s your best friend, besides Harry of course.

Yet, he didn’t think that Harry is beautiful, the way he knows Hermione is…you know…beautiful. Harry looked, well he looked a bit like a brooding little git, while Hermione well, she didn’t look like a git. It was difficult to explain, shit- no he didn’t mean she looked like shit its just shit. He shouldn’t be thinking of how she looks, even now as she was wearing that green gunk on her face, he can’t help but see past that and see her beauty.

Fuck.

He did it again, damn it Weasley. Get it together.

Focus, he has to get a grip on reality and not fall into uncharted territory of thinking about how bea- no stop, pay attention. Fucking focus!

Think of something else, anything that can take your mind off of the short, yet feisty busy-haired girl who was wearing an overly fluffy pink robe and was currently tapping her bunny-eared slippers onto the oakwood floor. Ron looked around the hall and tried to focus his mind on anything, he tried looking out the window, yet it was futile since the curtains were closed. Yes, he could always walk away and pretend like she didn’t almost catch him trying to sneak out, but he knew that Hermione wouldn’t let him off the hook. He also wasn’t about to make tit out of himself and make Hermione pissed to the point she tries to hex his bollocks off. Yeah, he was quite fond of his bits, if you cared to ask.

Even though Hermione would talk his ear off about how underage magic is illegal, which he already knew but it’s fine, Ron let his insightful friend have her moment. Which had ended up being almost an hour and a half, mind you. However, the funniest thing happened, on several instances he caught the little know-it-all using magic to decontaminate multiple parts of Grimmauld. You should’ve seen the look of surprise on her face, it was downright adorable seeing her blush so hard. She could- damn it Weasley you’ve done it again. Honestly what is bloody wrong with you, tonight? It was like his thoughts were going haywire with just the sight of her in front of him. So, instead he did the one thing he knew best, shove his foot seven different ways into his mouth.

“Hermione, what the bloody fuck do you have on your face?” He asked after taking a couple of deep breaths, waiting for his heart rate to slow down. You know since he got frightened at the sight of her…no not of her just seeing her suddenly made him-

“Oh, honestly, you shouldn’t swear,” Hermione gritted out, even under all that gunk Ron could tell that Hermione's face was burning scarlet at this precise moment. "If you must know, this is a Muggle beauty practice to remove blemishes, its a thick paste that should remain on the face for roughly thirty minutes and....."

Ron stared at her in utter confusion, as Hermione was prattling on about how thick the consistency of the paste has to be before applying it onto her face. Ron couldn't help but wonder if all Muggle women partake in looking like mountain troll for a few hours a day just so they won't have any acne-

"Excuse me, did you say I look like a mountain troll?" Hermione narrowed her eyes so much it look like slits, and yes ladies and gentlemen he was royally without a doubt fucked at this precise moment. Unless, he plays dumb and can attempt to deny ever saying that because technically he was thinking it so it's completely different. Or, he could rectify the situation and not be at risk of getting hexed.

A long silence sweeps between the two of them, and Ron could feel the tell tale sign of his neck starting to warm up. It would be a matter of seconds before his entire face rivals the scarlet of the banner downstairs. He took a deep breath and realized what he had to do, “Well, I didn’t say you looked like a mountain troll, I said Muggle women and last I checked, you're not a woman. Not- not that I was looking at you in any way, I-erm, it's just that you're a girl.” Ron finished lamely, before picking up his broom off the floor.

“I am a girl, thank you for taking notice, and just for the record, both women and girls can enjoy a bit of relaxation every once in a while. That doesn't classify them as a mountain troll,” Hermione replied curtly, raising her chin up ever so slightly.

“Erm, yeah..I didn’t mean that it's just i don’t see why you need to wear any of that.You’re fine the way you are-”

“Oh, well, t-thank you. You also look fine the way you are, not that you’d need to wear anything on your face, since you don’t have any blemishes. You only have freckles and they’re rather nice to look at…not that I've looked at them more than an average amount of time of course,” Hermione hurriedly added.

Wait…he thought, does this mean that she’s been looking at him in a different way other than friendly. Sweet Merlin, he only hopes that she wasn’t also thinking about Harry in that way, just the mere thought made him feel queasy. Ron wanted to blame the sudden nausea that he feels on all the food he ate. Plus, the memory of how Moody had taken out his magic eye and placed it into a cup filled with water. Everyone saw the way in which the eye swiveled inside the cup, it was rather uncomfortable to say the least.

Shaking his head, Ron decides that maybe he should get some rest instead of going out for a fly, he wasn’t feeling well and being alone with Hermione is doing his head in. Hopefully this wasn’t a taste of how patrols would be at Hogwarts, then things would definitely have to change.

“Well, since it’s late we should head to bed,” he said with a fake yawn as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Oh, yes…of course,” Hermione replied quickly, yet it didn’t fool him. It sounded like she was sad and he hadn't the minor clue as to why.

“Hermione, did you need anything else?” He asked, watching as she began to toy with the sleeves of her fluffy robe. She huffed, before biting her bottom lip and…ok wow, even with a face covered in that Muggle beauty paste, Ron couldn’t help but feel frozen in place and stare at his bushy-haired best friend.

“I wanted to apologize from the way I reacted earlier,” Hermione mumbled so quietly that he almost missed what she had said, luckily he didn’t. “I shouldn’t have been so surprised that Dumbledore chose you, honestly that was quite rude of me and I-I’m glad that you’re going to be my partner during rounds. Also, I wanted to give you this, it’s nothing really, just a little thing that I made, it’s so you can keep your badge safe when you're not wearing it of course,” Hermione rambled as she thrusted a hand-knitted case onto his palm.

He couldn’t believe it, Hermione had knitted his initials across the top in black yarn, and right under it, the word Prefect was stitched in gold. He couldn’t believe that she had made him this, let alone found the time to make him a present fit for a prefect.

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s rubbish. Here just give it back and we can forget I ever gave it to you,” Hermione said as she tried to swipe it from his hands, yet he was much quicker than her and managed to move it from her grasp. “No, it’s bloody perfect, Hermione…I don’t know what to say,” Ron said sincerely.

“Don’t lie, it's hideous. I know I’m not an amazing knitter like your mum, but I tried my best and well…if you don’t like it I’m sure I can come up with something else-”

“Are you kidding? I love it, honestly.” He said as he looked into her brown eyes, hoping that she realizes he isn’t taking the mickey. The longer he looked at her the more he realized that moments like these makes him want to just lean down and-

“Hermione, what if I told you that I have a present of my own to give you?” Ron asked, as he leaned down closer to face.

“I would say that's a load of dragon dung,” Hermione replied, not noticing that they were both slowly eliminating the barrier between them.

“How about this, close your eyes and you’ll find out for yourself,” he said before swallowing hard, instead of a reply, Hermione only nodded her head as her eyes fluttered shut. Ron couldn’t help but look at the way her dark lashes fluttered as she was breathing so gently. “Ready?” He asked her, allowing her the time to stop this if he went too far, however instead he watched as she licked her bottom lip. That was all it took for him to close the distance and place his lips against her soft ones, it wasn’t the most practical moment, since his face was now being covered with the thick green paste. Yet, it was indeed the perfect prefect present that he could ever give, and he was beyond ecstatic that Hermione didn’t pull away. Instead she slowly slid her hands up, before letting her arms wrap around his shoulders.

They were lost in the moment, it wasn’t perfect at the slightest, he lost track of the amount of times she accidentally bit hit bottom lip, or the times his long nose bumped into hers. The amount of times he ingested the horrid green paste, yet….this was perfect and nothing could change this moment they had together.

[directdogman]

Did you take inspiration for Karen's last from the FNaF trilogy? I was reading The Twisted Ones and there's a guy named Officer Dunn

Nah, not consciously, though I have read FNaF:TSE and remember the character. I'd honestly believe it was the case though if I didn't happen to remember the exact process that caused me to end up with the surname. It'd be out of character for me to base a DT character name off a fictional character (real world names are fair game/referenced in many names in DT!)

I kinda wanted to give a main character a surname that's also a colour to reference the fact that the main datables have consistent palettes and a nod to the fact that DT uses colour theory all over the game (with grouped colour themes/vibrant weird palettes on different screen bgs.) Hell, it's basically a trope in fiction to give characters surnames based on colours that correspond to (or suit) them somehow, take Walter White and Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad, say, a show that goes p ham with its colour theory (namely consistently incorporating it into names/costume design.) Anyway, i briefly considered 'Cyan' as Randy's surname (bc cyan is the base colour for teal, which is the colour of Randy's head, and cygnus means swan, which contains several of the same letters) but, the word 'cyan' is fairly commonly mispronounced by people who've never heard it said aloud (and when people do say the word right, they still sometimes tend to switch which syllable is stressed, at least in my experience hearing people say it) and I figured Randy deserved a surname that everyone can read the same way first time. The poor guy has enough confusion going on in his life without people misreading his name!

So, I brainstormed a colour based surname for Karen (already having most of the others decided at this point afaik), with the aim of maybe using an autumnal colour to match her palette (orange, beige, cream, brown) and then decided to look up 'surnames that mean colours' and voila, 'Dunn' came up on a long list, derived from 'donn', irish gaelic for brown. Also, sounds like 'done'. Like "so, so done." Relates to a colour in her palette (her printer head is brown) and there's a separate pun built in that suits her dilemma (working a job she HATES.) It was a no-brainer for sure.

Y'know, funnily enough, this isn't even the first time I've seen people assume I lifted a DT character name from FNaF. Hell, I've seen folks theorize that I lifted Marla's (Callum Crown's deceased + (formerly) long-suffering wife) name from the identically named character in that very same FNaF novel series, when I actually picked it bc the name is a variant of Marlene, which is in turn derived from Mary Magdalene from biblical canon.

There's biblical symbolism in DT's canon surrounding Crown and his inner circle (y'know, with the whole failed messiah schtick + him helping the disabled walk again with his prosthetics) and Marla's name is an extension of it. Magdalene is notable in biblical canon for being the one woman Jesus consistently traveled with (y'know, like Marla, the one woman in Crown's (quite typically) male-dominated cabinet) and also the fact that Magdalene was allegedly the first to witness Jesus' empty tomb post-resurrection... Marla wound up with sole custody of Crown's husk right after his accident. Both ended up with first dibs on the (now vacant) space their old messiah/former companion once filled. Brutal.

[atrirose]

MOOT GAME IDEA : " ship your mutuals with a trope/au pairing from one of your writings " you're vibes are giving little mermaid au with heeseung 😊😊

— @hoonvrs ( saint x sunghoon ) coworker au

we love chocolate and villian swirl but i’m p sure they start at a whole ‘i hate you’ kinda thing , sharing a small office (?) idk a work place and they always complain abt the temperature being not to their liking, basically fighting eachother until they fall :)

— @odxrilove ( dori x hoshi ) neighbor au

just hoshi finding dori cute when she is out in her batman pjs to throw trash, prefect story for how i met you mother, dori would be so awkward with him it’s crazy and i would for sure get second hand embarrassment. but hoshi is smart he will pull it off

— @boyfhee ( caelin x jay ) barista au

since she is so obsessed w coffee i can see her being jay’s favorite customer but he will always be concerned at the amount of caffeine she consumes

— @haerinz ( fae x jungwon ) flower shop au

i can see jungwon purposely visiting the flower shop fae works at just to get a look of her, asks her to teach flower language too so he can built the perfect bouquet for the girl he wants to confess (spoiler it’s you, fae).

— @bywons ( sru x jungwon ) ice cream shop au

meeting each other as kids in an ice cream shop and falling in love, looking for each other all thier lives and finally finding eachother , sigh what a great way to fall in love

— @wonryllis ( yeonie x jungkook ) penpal au

both of them finding comfort in eachother thru letters and discovering eachother in the most unexpected way

— @tyunni ( mj x riki ) gamers au

i don’t play any games so idk how to describe this but probably falling for eachother when one revived the other at the most crucial moment

— @lilacnini ( nini x jake ) highschool au

two classmates who never showed any interest in eachother meeting at a party where they are the only teens because their parents dragged them.

— @bywons ( sru x jungwon ) boarding school au

sru and won being from rival schools and falling in love during the sport competition held every year. all the sneaking out and avoiding drama or yk fighting w morals and love

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Sirius Black x gn! Reader - Burn

A/n: This is a song fic from the song burn from Hamilton, this also isn't by best work because I wrote it so long ago but I thought it would be a good way to kick of heartbreak week because it the least angsty out of all them!

Heartbreak week masterlist?

Summary: You were warned but you ignored them in favor of love, now look where that got you

Warnings: Cheating, heartbreak, implied abusive black family (just barely,) I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Parings: (romantic) Sirius x reader, (platonic) unnamed sister OC x reader]

I saved every letter you wrote to me

From the moment I read them

I knew you were mine

You said you were mine

I thought you were mine

"Y/n you have another letter!" Your sister yells at you as you run down the stairs to tear it from her hands.

"Hey!"

You ignore her, ripping open the letter your eyes racing over the paragraphs, and memorizing each and every word. You drink in the pages, and pages of words and your heart had learned to love the smell of ink and parchment.

You love Sirius, perhaps you were too young to know but you love him. It was harsh sometimes your relationship, mostly due to his parents but you two dealt with it fine. You were in love, what more could you need?

Do you know what Angelica said

When we saw your first letter arrive?

"You should run Y/n." Your sister whispered to you as you cradled the letter in your hands like it was the most precious jewel there was to behold.

"You should run far away before he breaks you."

She said, be careful with that one, love

He will do what it takes to survive

"He wouldn't!" You snapped, aghast at what your sister had even the guts to say. How could she think that!

"Sirius is caring and loving! He would never-"

Your sister just shakes her head and takes your hands into hers. The look in her eyes was sad, terribly sad.

"Just be careful is all I'm saying."

You consider her words for second before nodding, with this you could agree with her. You would guard your heart with your life, but you would also wear it on your sleeve. You were a fool in love.

You and your words flooded my senses

Your sentences left me defenseless

Your hands intertwine with Sirius's as you look at him like he's a star. When you looked at him like that he was, he was a bright star and you were just a lonely moon that was in his orbit. Not even significant enough to matter.

"I'm going to have to spend Christmas away again."

He sighs pulling away from you rubbing his hands over his face.

"Do you have to?" His voice breaks a little as he peaks at you with his twinkling grey eyes.

You built me palaces out of paragraphs

You built cathedrals

For a split second you almost say no, you nearly slip into the habit but you can't. You had to spend Christmas with your family, even if it meant being away from your boyfriend for a couple of weeks.

He sighs yet again, he seems to be doing that quite a bit lately before he pulls you into a long loving kiss.

It ends too soon as he pulls away from you, you miss the heat that he brings and the certain happiness that could only come from him.

"I'll be okay love." He says but there's a particular way he says it, almost like he's relived that you're not staying, yet you brush it off. It was just nothing... Right?

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote to me

I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line

For some kind of sign

And when you were mine

You scrambled through the Hogwarts corridors, you could see your lover again! After all the time spent away, you could see him again! You seemed to be glowing as you ran around Hogwarts looking for him, only for the sight you see to be the worst thing your eyes have ever laid upon.

He was kissing someone else. In front of everyone.

The world seemed to burn

Burn

They just kept on kissing as some foolish students would cheer them on and he would grin cockily pulling away from the person before they would pull him right back in.

You published the letters she wrote you

You told the whole world

How you brought this girl into our bed

In clearing your name

You have ruined our lives

You couldn't take it anymore you ran out of the hallway crying your eyes out. Why would he do it? Why!

So you ran to your sister.

And as soon as she saw your eyes filled with tears as some already flooded down your face she dreaded the words you were about to say. Ultimately though, she knew just as you opened your mouth what you were about to voice.

"You were right."

Do you know what Angelica said

When she read what you'd done?

"He's a fool." She said as she cradled you in her arms.

"He's a fool for losing you." She whispered into your ear.

She said, you've married an Icarus

He has flown too close to the sun

"I had to do it Y/n!" Sirius hollers at you as you try and find a way to escape the room you were in.

He had cornered you in an empty classroom, as he's been trying to talk to you for weeks now. You've been avoiding him like the plague, with good reason.

You and your words obsessed with your legacy

Your sentences border on senseless

"My family was getting on my ass for dating you! So I had to make them happy and I thought-"

Slap!

The crisp, clear clap of your hand meeting his face echoes throughout the room as you gaze upon him with angry eyes. You weren't sad anymore you were furious and burning with rage, the flames consuming you and everything else around it.

And you are paranoid in every paragraph

How they perceive you

You, you, you!

"If you wanted to please your family so bad you aren't the Sirius I know and love." You snare at him.

You take a step forward backing him into the wall behind him.

"If you ever think anyone or even your family is going to see how I was a fool to be in love with you like before, you would be wrong!"

I'm erasing myself from the narrative

Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted

When you broke her heart

You have torn it all apart

Taking the letters out of your pocket you look at them once more, reading them all and sometimes even smiling slightly at the versus. You loved him, you still do. Some part of you would always love him.

So it had to burn.

I'm watching it burn

Watching it burn

You don't even need a wand, you don't even move your hands the letters just burst into flames in front of you.

Sirius gasped as he lunged for the letters (they must have been dear to him too) but you just kept on feeding the fire with them, as you tossed one after another in the flames.

The world has no right to my heart

The world has no place in our bed

"Y/n, please! I needed to find a place to stay at-" He throws a hand through his hair but you don't stop the distress that is going through him. In simple terms you don't care anymore it's not your problem.

"My family had threaten to kick me out! I just needed to find a place to stay! But I didn't have anytime so I kissed them thinking if the information reached them in time they'd let me off the hook!"

They don't get to know what I said

I'm burning the memories

Burning the letters that might have redeemed you

Looking over at him with a blank face you just shrug your shoulders uncaring.

"We both know you could have asked James."

You forfeit all rights to my heart

A trace of fear flashes in his eyes and you know the truth.

"What did you think I'd really fall for that trick?" Your voice is monotone but it hides an underlying threat. Or maybe in was a very real threat, that was very real now.

You forfeit the place in our bed

"Y/n please don't do this! Don't burn those letters!"

"So? So!" Finally your voice has fury in it and suddenly Sirius is flown back across the room and more papers, and desks, light on fire. But it doesn't spread unless you want it to.

"So you can be the good guy? Ah!" You laugh as you throw more letters into the fire.

You'll sleep in your office instead

Sirius looks at you affronted, and some part of you wanted to ruin his life in exchange for breaking your heart. Though, that part was the angry, hot ice and it was slowly dripping away. Now the furious rage was gone and all that was left was the cold flames.

"Y/n! This will ruin my life!"

With only the memories of when you were mine

"Y/n! N/n..." He attempts to comfort you through his manipulative words as he goes to softly reach for your hand.

"You wouldn't want to ruin someones life would you?" He says in his sweet, charming voice that he used to use on you.

You wrench your hand from his grasp and open the door and look back at him once before walking away.

"You did that yourself."

I hope that you burn

Words 1252

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Hp Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux

Heartbreak week taglist: @igotanidea @hawkinsbaby

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Manuscript Search Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @primroseprime2019, @ahordeofwasps, @eccaiia, @macabremoons, and @oh-no-another-idea! :D (Can you tell I've gotten really behind with tag games? :P )

Words: alright, hungry, tree, kiss, embark, dark, spark, mark, kind, purpose, trail, delight, strip, slice, chop, partake, school, stumble, spill and silk. These are from The Power and the Glory and Like Snow on Hungry Graves.

Under the cut because this is loooong:

Alright:

On his way out of the Silver Palace he had to hastily jump out of the way of a messenger on horseback. Unfortunately it was a messenger who clearly subscribed to the "pedestrians are nuisances who must be taught a lesson" school of thought. Arafaren stumbled back and fell into the hedge. He glared after the messenger, who didn't even have the courtesy to look round and see if he was alright.

Hungry:

The sun had set and the stars were twinkling overhead by the time Hariye reached the road. He was dusty, his clothes were coated with dried mud, he was terribly tired and hungry, and now he saw that he couldn't reach the sea from here unless he wanted to jump off a cliff.

Tree:

Before going downstairs he paused to look out the window. The house was built in the middle of a small forest. Beyond the trees he could see a green hill rising up steeply. On the far side of it, even steeper and looking like something out of a painting, was a huge snow-covered mountain. Hariye had seen snow before -- contrary to popular belief Çarisar winters were in fact cold enough for snow -- but he'd never seen such a mountain before. Bare rock showed black through the white coat. It was beautiful but it scared Hariye in a way he couldn't explain. He shuddered and turned away.

Kiss:

If it wasn't for the fact he was still lying in the ditch he could have dismissed the last few hours as a nightmare. But he knew no nightmare would have made him go to sleep in a muddy stream. Anyway, he could still feel Ketevan's kiss lingering like a phantom pain.

Embark Disembark:

At least when they disembarked at Veiteos there was no longer much chance of Shizuki asking him to go flying. Maybe that was why Irímé now had time to notice something was wrong.

Dark:

For as long as he could remember Hariye knew there was something odd about him. It wasn't just one thing; it was a lot of little things that added together to make… something. He didn't know what yet. All his life he'd loved baths, which had been very unusual in a toddler but was now just mildly bemusing in a teenager. He had no idea who his mother was, which wasn't unusual when his father had twenty concubines. He could see in the dark better than anyone else in the palace. And he was forbidden from ever going near the sea.

Spark Sparkle:

Abi opened her eyes. The ground was far below her. She was above the tallest trees, above the palaces, even above the Silver Palace's watch-tower. From here she could see the entire city and beyond. All the buildings were so small they looked like dolls' houses. The sea sparkled in the distance. A cloud drifted overhead. There was no noise except the wind and nothing near her except a crow flying beneath her. It gave her a bemused look then veered off in a different direction.

Mark:

Captain Gobalijë welcomed her aboard. Ketevan didn't tell her who she really was, but she knew her formal speech and accent marked her as someone of consequence, someone it was worthwhile listening to.

Kind (warning: contains Ketevan):

When he came back to himself he felt Ketevan's fingers combing through his hair. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp. He knew she meant it kindly but it made his skin crawl.

Purpose:

"What are you doing?" Abi asked, stared at their odd paraphernalia. The only purpose she could think of for those things was writing a letter. A lengthy letter, judging by the amount of paper. But who would drag their writing equipment around with them when they could just sit down at home and write in peace?

Trail (follows directly after Kind):

"It's a good thing I met you," she murmured. "If anyone else knew what you are they'd…" She trailed off and continued stroking his hair. "So you see, you must stay here. You'll be safe as long as you don't go near water. I'll make sure no one finds out. You just have to stay in the fortress."

Delight:

Something heavy pressed against his side. Hariye reached into his pocket to see what it was. His fingers touched cold metal. At once his eyes snapped fully open. He bit his lip to stop from giving a delighted exclamation. Until now he'd completely forgotten about the knife Rusudan gave him.

Strip:

Lian shook his head. "It's not true teleportation, but I can travel through the Void. I don't recommend it," he added warningly when he saw Abi sit up and look intrigued. "Things live there that you don't want to meet. It strips all illusions away and shows you as you truly are, or maybe as your soul is, and it can be an incredibly gory spectacle. My own is horrifying. And Death also uses it to travel. So do her servants. I've have some very awkward encounters with them."

Slice:

She handed him back the loaf. He noticed there was something odd about her left hand. Although she could move it to hold her slice of bread, the fingers seemed stiff and she didn't close them fully around the slice.

Chop Cut:

An ear-splitting shriek rose from the entrance hall. It was cut off abruptly as the parasite was wholly consumed by blue and white flames. Within seconds it disintegrated. All that remained were specks of ash and scorch marks on the floor.

Partake Take:

Some of Abihira's strange ideas were useful. Others… Well, no one was ever going to forget the Incident of the Mechanical Cake Mixer. Mirio was currently away visiting his mother's family, so Kiriyuki had to take his place as Abihira's designated babysitter and ensure there was no repetition of that incident.

School:

The last time Arafaren got a telegram it had been from the headmaster of his school warning him that if he didn't immediately improve his work he wouldn't be allowed to come back after the holidays. Most of the other telegrams he got were of a similar sort. So when a servant handed him one, his first reaction was to think of all the people he had offended recently.

Stumble:

It wasn't far to the beach. Ketevan stumbled out onto dry land in a way that even she had to admit was clumsy -- though only to herself. She turned, expecting to see the mer had gone back to the sea, and got yet another shock.

Spill:

The people who had already gone upstairs on their way to the roof now realised that something had gone wrong. Curious faces appeared over the banisters. Abi's father was one of them. He started violently when he saw the grotesque figure in front of his daughter. In the process he spilled half his wine glass over his clothes.

Silk:

Abi and the boy looked round. A tall, thin woman in a brilliant green dress frowned down at the boy. There was something faintly familiar about the woman's face. She would have been beautiful if she hadn't looked as if she had a lot of worries. Her fine silk dress and carefully-styled hair suggested she was someone very important. Yet her face had the suggestion of a shadow over it. For some reason she couldn't explain Abi felt sure this woman was unhappy.

Tagging @zmwrites, @isherwoodj, @mysticstarlightduck, @words-after-midnight, @acertainmoshke, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D Can't be bothered thinking of new words, so take your pick from mine! :D