#this fic is alllll over the place but i like all of the places it goes

[lucky-clover-gazette]

Ergo Sum

Chapter 3/3: I Am (5387 words)

She drew back. “What the fuck?” “I was under the impression that we were confessing our truths,” Volo said. “My truth was bisexuality, you’re talking about deicide!” “I am not killing Arceus. I am subjugating its power.” “Subjugating,” the outsider repeated, narrowing her eyes in thought. “You mean, like, catching it? In a pokéball? Volo, you’re going to catch God in a pokéball?” She looked up at the sky. “Is Arceus aware of this?” “I don’t know,” Volo said between gritted teeth, “because it won’t talk to me.” “I wouldn’t talk to you either, if you wanted to trap me in a fucking pokéball!”

[lumosou]

୨୧ — Breathing After the Ashes. 𖦹 , ✿ + ꕤ

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Harry J. Potter x Fem!Reader

ꕤ — Synopsis + Wc ; In the quiet after the storm, Harry learns to feel again—through stolen touches, whispered truths, and the solace of you. Together, you find warmth in the wreckage, and a reason to hold on. 7.9k

ꕤ — Discretion ; 18+ MDNI! angsty feelings alllll around, some fluff but mostly angstyish, the smut is so gentle and soft!!!!! mostly healing sex between reader & harry, they both need therapy.. penetrative sex! kisses as well 🫡

ꕤ — A/n ; this fic is lowkey my child but i also lowkey hate it! wtf! the pacing is kinda awkward and also repetitive bc this is genuinely the longest thing i’ve ever written and idk how to deal w it, bare with me i promise ill get better as i go 😭 i do hope u guys enjoy it somewhat!! reblogs and feedback are so so appreciated 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

The Great Hall wasn’t the same anymore. The enchanted ceiling still glowed with its usual charm, painted in amber hues that mirrored the late summer sunset, but the light felt muted somehow, swallowed by a weight too stubborn to dissipate. It hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire—bitter, clinging, impossible to outrun.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, the hum of voices around him blurring into an indistinct murmur. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, laden with food he didn’t remember serving himself: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, a gleaming crescent of gravy. None of it tempted him. The thought of eating made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a dull ache that spread through his chest.

The war was over. Voldemort was gone, his name no longer a curse. This was supposed to be the part where relief set in, where everything hurt a little less. Instead, Harry felt as though he was still wading through the rubble, shoulders bowed under the crushing weight of those who hadn’t made it. Colin Creevey. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Their names were a mantra he couldn’t stop repeating in his head, their faces seared into his mind’s eye.

His grip on the fork tightened until it dug into his palm, the bite of metal a thin distraction.

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice was a soft thread that tugged him out of his spiral. He looked up, startled, to find her hand brushing against his arm. Concern clouded her features, her brows knitting together. “You don’t have to stay here. If it’s too much, you can—”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, sharper than he meant to. The words came out like a reflex, cutting her off mid-sentence. Hermione flinched, pulling back her hand, and for a fleeting moment, guilt gnawed at him. But he shoved it down. He didn’t want her worry, her pity. He didn’t want any of it.

Ron shifted beside him, chewing on a hunk of bread like it was his way out of the tension. He didn’t speak, though Harry could feel the sideways glance he shot him. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until Harry let out a slow, controlled breath and placed his fork on the plate. The metallic clang rang louder than it should’ve, making him wince.

The scrape of his chair against the floor cut through the noise of the hall as he stood abruptly. “I need some air,” he muttered, already turning away.

He didn’t wait for Hermione to protest or Ron to offer some half-hearted comment to fill the space. His feet carried him toward the door, away from the low hum of conversation and clinking dishes. Toward the one place in all of Hogwarts where the noise couldn’t follow. Where he could finally, maybe, breathe.

─────────────

The Astronomy Tower had always been Harry’s escape. Perched high above the rest of the castle, it was the only place where the world felt distant enough to bear. The sprawling grounds stretched out below him, bathed in the purples and blues of dusk, and for a brief moment, the sight eased the tension coiled in his chest. He leaned heavily against the stone railing, its chill biting through his sleeves, and the wind making his already wild hair even messier. It carried the sharp, clean scent of freshly cut grass, grounding him in the present even as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

The sound of footsteps startled him—not loud, but enough to break the fragile stillness he’d sought. He turned sharply, hand brushing the wand tucked in his pocket, only to pause when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Are you hiding too?” you asked, lingering near the top of the stairs. The dim light softened your features, but it didn’t quite mask the curiosity behind your words. There was no malice in your tone, only a quiet humor that made his shoulders drop slightly.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Harry said automatically, though even to his ears, the denial sounded weak.

You tilted your head, unconvinced. A faint smile ghosted across your lips, but your eyes remained guarded, unreadable. “Right. You’re just conveniently up here, avoiding everyone, the same way I am.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his fingers brushing the edge of the railing. He didn’t respond, unsure how to defend himself—or if he even wanted to. There was something about the way you stood there, hands loosely at your sides, your voice soft but steady, that caught him off guard. It wasn’t pity or prying curiosity, just… understanding. Like you could see the weight pressing down on him and felt no need to ask what it was. Like maybe you carried some of it yourself.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to the horizon. “I guess you’re not.. wrong.’’

You stepped closer with quiet purpose, each movement deliberate, as though gauging the fragile equilibrium of Harry’s silence. He didn’t flinch or shift away, didn’t so much as glance at you. His gaze stayed locked on the horizon, but you could feel the weight of his awareness, the way the air between you seemed to hold its breath. When you finally stopped beside him at the railing, the stillness wasn’t stifling. It was tentative, balanced, as though it might shatter if either of you spoke too loudly.

“It doesn’t feel like the same place, does it?” Your voice was soft, your eyes fixed on the horizon as the last threads of sunlight dissolved into the hills. The sky deepened into shades of indigo and amber, blurring the edges of the world.

Harry nodded, though the motion felt stiff, half-hearted. “No,” he said, but the word came out hollow, too small to carry the weight behind it.

You leaned forward on the railing, fingers brushing the cool stone. “It’s strange,” you murmured, more to the sky than to him. “You think coming back will fix things, like the castle will just… feel the same. Like being here should make it easier. But it doesn’t. It’s all still different.”

Harry turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t mean to linger, but your words struck something raw, something he hadn’t managed to put into words. You’d said it so simply, yet it was exactly what had been clawing at him for months.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same.”

Your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. “And neither are you.”

The observation hit like a hex, sharper than you’d probably meant it to. Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists against the stone. “Nobody is,” he said, his voice low and edged with a bitterness he didn’t entirely mean to direct at you.

But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t back away or apologize for the truth in your words. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, a flicker of understanding softening your tone. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you said, your voice gentler now. “War changes people. It has to.”

He wanted to argue, to say something sharp and deflective, but the words caught in his throat. Because you weren’t wrong. He wasn’t the same person who had fought his way out of the Chamber of Secrets or stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. He wasn’t sure who he was now—just that he wasn’t enough.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Not heavy, not empty, but something quieter, more bearable. Your arm brushed his lightly as you leaned forward on the railing, the contact fleeting yet somehow electric. He stiffened, his pulse jolting unexpectedly, and he waited for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you said after a moment, your voice low, steady. “I just thought you might not want to be alone. Sometimes it helps.”

He swallowed, his throat dry, and tried to muster some kind of response. He wanted to tell you he didn’t need anyone, that he was fine—had always been fine—on his own. But the words wouldn’t come. Maybe because they weren’t true.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, his voice barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, one that felt less like triumph and more like an offering. You leaned back against the railing, gaze lifting to the stars beginning to scatter across the night sky. They blinked faintly in the deepening dark, small points of light that somehow didn’t feel so far away.

For the first time in weeks—months, maybe—Harry let the tension in his chest ease just a little. The world still felt impossibly heavy, but next to you, it didn’t feel so crushing.

Maybe you were right. Maybe not being alone did help.

─────────────

The two of you stayed there, side by side, the silence between you settling into something quieter, more natural. Harry’s hands curled around the cold stone of the railing, the familiar feel grounding him as his eyes traced the lines of the grounds below. The weight on his chest hadn’t vanished, not completely, but your presence dulled its sharp edges, made it something he could carry, if only for a little while.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Your voice cut through the stillness—not loud, not accusing, just curious.

Harry turned his head toward you, startled by the observation. But you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze stayed on the horizon, your features lit faintly by the glow of the rising stars.

He shrugged, the motion small, self-contained. “Guess I don’t have much to say.”

You hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful, almost like you were agreeing with him. “Sometimes it’s easier that way,” you murmured. “Less to explain.”

His grip on the railing tightened, knuckles pressing white against the stone. He wanted to ask how you could say something like that, how you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking when he hadn’t even said it aloud. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Some part of him was afraid that asking might shatter whatever strange, fragile understanding hung between you.

“Not everyone sees it that way,” he muttered instead. “Most people just want me to talk. Like if I say something, it’ll fix everything.”

You turned your head then, and he felt your gaze settle on him—steady, unflinching, impossible to avoid. “They probably think it’ll make them feel better,” you said, your voice calm but edged with certainty.

Harry blinked, the words landing harder than he expected. He hadn’t thought about it like that before, but of course, you were right. People didn’t just want him to be okay—they needed it. They needed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, to be fine so they could tell themselves that things might still go back to the way they were.

“But it’s not about them,” you added, your tone softening just slightly, as though you’d noticed the way his jaw tightened. “It’s about you.”

The words struck something deep, loosening a knot he hadn’t realized had been pulling him taut all day. He turned to look at you fully now, his gaze searching your face for something he couldn’t name. But you weren’t watching him like everyone else did. There was no pity in your expression, no awkwardness. Just quiet understanding.

“Why are you up here?” he asked, the question spilling out before he had time to think better of it. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore, didn’t want to keep peeling open wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.

You hesitated, just for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to answer. Then your lips quirked into a faint smile—tired, almost self-deprecating. “Guess I needed to get away too. Being around people all the time… it’s exhausting.”

He nodded slowly. That, at least, he didn’t need explained. The noise, the questions, the endless parade of looks that didn’t ask but expected—it was suffocating. Up here, though, the castle below felt distant enough to forget, just for a little while.

“It’s different up here,” he said after a pause, though he wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it out loud.

You glanced at him again, your expression softer now, as though something in his words had shifted the space between you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he added quietly, surprising himself with the honesty of it.

You blinked, tilting your head like you hadn’t expected it either. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the tension in his chest eased, just a fraction. Whatever warmth flickered there wasn’t tied to the war or his title or anything he’d done to save the world. It wasn’t about being Harry Potter. It was just you.

You gave him a small, knowing smile, and for a moment, the weight of everything slipped from Harry’s shoulders. The ghosts quieted, the endless expectations faded, and the hollow ache that lived in his chest dulled just enough. Up here, with you beside him, the rest of the world felt far away, like it couldn’t reach him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said lightly, leaning back against the railing, arms folding across your chest. The breeze stirred your hair, the faint scent of pine and earth clinging to it, and Harry found himself watching the way the dim light softened your features.

“The Boy Who Lived doesn’t strike me as someone who needs anyone.”

Harry’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, but the warmth of it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is that what people think?”

You tilted your head, considering. “People think all sorts of things about you. Half of it’s probably rubbish.”

That drew a soft laugh from him, low and unexpected. The sound sat strangely in his chest, but it didn’t feel unwelcome. “You’re probably right.”

You glanced at him then, head tilted, your gaze curious but not intrusive. It wasn’t the sharp, prying look he was used to, the one that demanded answers or apologies or pieces of him he didn’t have to give. Instead, it was quieter, like you were searching for something without expecting him to offer it. Harry shifted under the weight of it, his fingers curling tighter around the railing, but before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Sometimes I think people forget you’re just… human.”

The words caught him off guard, sinking into him like a stone dropped into water. You didn’t say it with pity or reverence—just a soft kind of honesty that made his breath catch. It was like you weren’t talking to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, but just Harry, the boy standing beside you on a cold, quiet night.

For a moment, he couldn’t respond. The silence between you stretched, filled with a thousand things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. “Sometimes I forget that too,” he said finally, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was barely audible, and yet it felt louder than anything he’d said in months. “It’s like… if I’m not fighting or fixing something, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”

You turned to face him fully now, your expression soft but steady. “Maybe you don’t have to figure that out right now,” you said. “Maybe it’s okay to just… be.”

The simplicity of it stunned him. Just be. As though it were that easy. As though he could strip himself of everything he carried and exist without purpose or expectation. Harry’s grip on the railing tightened. “I don’t know if I even know how to do that anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do it alone.”

The words hung in the air between you, weightless and heavy all at once. Harry’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his heart stumbling in his chest. You weren’t looking at him the way most people did, like he was a puzzle to solve or a hero to rely on. You were looking at him like he was… enough.

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, but there was something in your eyes—something faintly sad and yet unwavering. “Because I think you need it.”

The knot in his chest twisted, a sharp ache he hadn’t felt in years threatening to rise to the surface. He blinked hard, pushing it back, refusing to let it crack him open. Not here. Not now.

His hand moved almost without thinking, brushing against yours where it rested on the stone. It was a light touch, tentative and fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through him. He froze, half expecting you to pull away, to retreat the way everyone else eventually did.

But you didn’t.

The touch lingered, delicate and unspoken, neither of you pulling away. It wasn’t an accident, nor was it intentional in a way that required words. It just was, the kind of quiet moment Harry didn’t know how to name—simple, yet heavy with meaning. His gaze dropped to your hand, where your fingers just barely grazed his, and something unfamiliar stirred in him, warm and disorienting.

“I’m not used to this,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The night breeze nearly carried them away, but you heard him.

You turned your head, curiosity softening your expression. “Used to what?”

“Someone just… being here.” He let out a dry laugh, short and humorless, as if mocking himself. “Most people either avoid me or expect something.”

Your fingers shifted, brushing his more firmly, the subtle movement grounding him. “I don’t expect anything, Harry.”

His name, spoken so gently, without expectation or weight—it shouldn’t have struck him the way it did. But it lodged in his chest, the simplicity of it making his stomach twist. You weren’t trying to be anything other than honest, and somehow that made it worse.

He looked at you then, really looked at you. The moonlight played across your features, softening the edges, casting faint shadows against your skin. Your gaze met his and didn’t waver, holding steady in a way that made his chest tighten. There was something solid about you, something he couldn’t explain but couldn’t deny either. An anchor, maybe, in a world that had only ever felt like chaos.

“I don’t know how to…” The sentence faltered, crumbling before it could finish. Harry shook his head slightly, as if that might hide his frustration. How to what, exactly? Let someone in? Say what he was feeling? Be himself again?

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, like you could read his mind. Your voice was low, steady, but kind. “I meant it. You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever this is.”

A lump rose in his throat, the kind that tightened every word into silence, but he nodded, managing a quiet, “Thanks.” It felt small, inadequate, but you didn’t seem to mind. You just gave him a smile—small but warm, like the kind of light you don’t notice until it chases away the dark.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wrapped around you, not heavy or cold, but something softer now. Warm, even. Harry let himself sink into it, his shoulders easing, his usual tension slipping away bit by bit. He glanced down at the grounds, the glow of the castle windows below casting long, soft shadows over the grass.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet but not shattering it.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Leaving Hogwarts?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… walking away. Starting over somewhere far from all of this.”

He hesitated, the idea catching him in a way he wasn’t expecting. The thought of leaving everything—this castle, its whispers, the weight of who he was supposed to be—was both terrifying and strangely tempting. To go somewhere he could just be Harry, without the war, without the name, without the constant pull of the past.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, the word quiet but honest. “But… I don’t think I could. I don’t know who I’d be without all of this.”

You nodded, like you understood. “Maybe that’s something you figure out with time.”

There was no judgment in your voice, just patience, and that startled him more than the question itself. Harry turned to look at you, searching your face for something he couldn’t name. You weren’t pushing him. You weren’t rushing him to have answers he didn’t have. And somehow, that made him ache.

“What about you?” he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Would you leave?”

Your smile was faint, wistful, like the question had passed through you a thousand times already. “I think about it. But I always come back to the same answer.” You paused, your gaze slipping to the horizon. “I don’t think running away fixes anything.”

He nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

You laughed softly, and the sound caught him by surprise. It wasn’t loud, but it was real, and it made something in his chest ease. “Only probably?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile finally breaking through. “Fine. You’re definitely right.”

“There you go,” you teased, your tone lighter now. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

It was strange how the conversation shifted, how the tension between you melted into something easier. Lighter. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Harry felt himself relax into the moment, his guard lowering just enough to let the night and your presence settle over him. For once, the weight on his shoulders didn’t feel so crushing. For once, the world outside the two of you could wait.

─────────────

The hours blurred together, the sky above deepening into a velvety indigo scattered with stars. The castle had fallen silent, the faint hum of voices and clatter of dishes from the Great Hall fading into memory. You hadn’t moved far from him, and Harry found himself noticing—really noticing—how the quiet didn’t feel oppressive anymore. It wasn’t heavy or suffocating. It was just… there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it was bearable.

When you turned to him, your gaze was steady, searching but not invasive. “Do you think you’ll ever feel normal again?”

The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t laced with pity or weighed down with expectation—it was just honest. Simple. It twisted something inside him all the same. Harry swallowed hard, the knot in his chest pulling tighter.

“I don’t know what normal is,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was confessing something fragile to the night itself. “Maybe I.. never really did.”

You nodded, like that answer didn’t surprise you. Like it wasn’t the wrong one. “I think a lot of us feel that way.”

You didn’t push, didn’t prod for more, and that—more than anything—made him want to keep going.

“When it ended…” He trailed off, his eyes dropping to his hands on the railing. They looked unfamiliar, scarred and pale against the stone. “I thought it would stop. The hurt. I thought I’d feel relieved.” His jaw tightened, and the next words slipped out like they had been waiting for years. “But it didn’t. And now I don’t know if it ever will.”

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Harry’s fingers curled against the railing, the cold bite of the stone grounding him. He didn’t look at you—he couldn’t. He didn’t know what he’d see in your eyes, and some part of him was afraid of it.

“You lost so much,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with something achingly gentle. “It’s okay to feel like that. No one expects you to just move on.”

Harry let out a hollow laugh, bitter and quiet. “Everyone expects me to be fine. To be Harry Potter, the one who saved everyone.” He gestured vaguely to himself, his voice cracking under the weight of it. “They don’t want to see this. Whatever this is.”

“I do,” you said, your voice unwavering.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air clean out of him. His head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation in your expression, no doubt. Just quiet sincerity, so clear and certain it left him breathless.

“Why?” The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

You shrugged, a faint, bittersweet smile curving your lips. “Because… you’re more than what everyone sees. And because I think you deserve someone who doesn’t just want the shiny bits of you.”

Harry stared at you, his chest tightening painfully. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process something so simple yet staggering. No one had ever said anything like that to him before—at least, not in a way that felt this real.

The air between you shifted, heavier now, like it was carrying something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable. You weren’t touching, but Harry could still feel the warmth of you beside him, like a presence he didn’t want to lose. His heart pounded harder, the sound of it loud in his ears.

“I don’t think I deserve it,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

Your brows knit together, a flicker of sadness crossing your face, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you stepped closer, close enough that he could see the faint curve of your lashes, the soft press of your lips. “I think you do.”

Harry inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the railing as you moved into his space. His pulse thundered, and his mind raced with the weight of the moment, with how close you were, with the quiet pull of something he wasn’t sure he had the strength to reach for.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” he whispered, the words raw and fractured.

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady but kind. “But you don’t have to decide anything right now.”

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and he felt something shift in him—like a thread unraveling after being pulled too tight for too long. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours again.

This time, you didn’t just let the touch linger. You let your fingers twine with his, warm and certain, the weight of it enough to crack the walls he’d been holding up for so long.

Harry’s breath hitched as your fingers laced with his, the touch so simple yet carrying the weight of something he didn’t quite know how to name. It sent a ripple through him—a warmth that started in his chest and spread outward, leaving a faint ache in its wake. His grip tightened slightly, hesitant but sure, and he drew in a shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the moment.

You didn’t push him, didn’t say a word. You just stayed there, steady and close, your thumb brushing softly over the back of his hand. The stars above blurred into the edges of his vision, the castle fading into shadow. The world narrowed until it was only you, your touch, and the quiet hum of something unspoken between you.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice low and uneven. His green eyes searched yours, wide and vulnerable in a way that made his chest feel both too tight and too open. “I don’t know how to let myself… feel like this.”

You didn’t flinch or pull back. Instead, you gave him a small, steady smile, your free hand lifting, hovering just near his arm, a silent question. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to let it happen.”

Harry exhaled, shaky and raw, but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned closer, his forehead almost brushing yours. His heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else, but for once, he didn’t care. He was tired of holding himself together, of keeping everyone out, of pretending he didn’t need this.

And then, almost instinctively, he closed the space between you.

The kiss was gentle, hesitant, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile. Or maybe breaking himself. But the moment your hand slid to his cheek, grounding him, something inside him unraveled. He pressed deeper into the kiss, his other hand rising to rest lightly at your waist. It wasn’t desperate or hurried—it was slow, deliberate, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer, and Harry felt something crack open in his chest. It wasn’t pain, but a kind of aching relief, as though he’d been holding his breath for years and was finally allowed to exhale. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t drowning.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, Harry didn’t go far. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still at your waist, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric as though afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though there was no regret in his voice, only uncertainty. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted, your voice soft but certain. Your hand slid down to rest over his chest, where his heart still raced beneath your touch. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A quiet laugh slipped from him, more a sigh than anything else. “I’m not used to this.”

“Neither am I,” you admitted, your fingers tracing small, absent shapes against the fabric of his shirt. “But.. I think we’re allowed to have this. Even after everything.”

Your words settled deep in his chest, heavy and grounding in a way that didn’t feel like a burden. He didn’t know if he fully believed you—not yet—but for the first time, he wanted to. He wanted to let himself try, to let himself have this, even if it scared him.

“Stay,” he said quietly, the word barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. It was a plea.

Your lips curved into a small, tender smile, and you nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

─────────────

The space between you thrummed with tension, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but electric, alive with everything unspoken. Harry’s hand lingered at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt, hesitant but wanting. His other hand gripped the railing behind you, steadying himself as he leaned in, his lips hovering just shy of yours. Your heart pounded, loud enough to drown out the quiet of the night.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted closer, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt, clutching the soft cotton as though it might keep you tethered. His breath ghosted over your lips, warm and uneven, and when he kissed you again, it was different this time—no hesitation, no doubt.

It started slow, the way it had before, soft and searching. But when you pressed closer, your body molding against his, something inside him gave way. The kiss deepened, shifting into something more urgent, more unrestrained, as if the careful control he had been holding onto had finally slipped. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, nothing else existed but the heat between you.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers trailing over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He felt so solid beneath your palms, so real, and yet the way he kissed you was anything but careful. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching tightly as he kissed you harder, his need for you palpable. One of his hands left the railing to thread through your hair, his fingers tangling there with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.

The rough stone at your back was cool, grounding, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Harry’s body pressed against yours. He seemed to be everywhere at once, overwhelming in the best way.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and unsteady.

You nodded quickly, your breath catching as he kissed you again, more certain this time. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. Your fingers slid to the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft, slightly damp strands of his hair. “More than okay.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips left yours, trailing down along your jaw, slow and deliberate. When he reached the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath against your skin sent a spark shooting through you, and you couldn’t stop the quiet sound that escaped your lips.

The noise seemed to break something in him. His hand slid lower, from your waist to your hip, his thumb grazing the bare skin just above the waistband of your jeans. His name slipped from your lips without thinking, and Harry groaned softly, the sound reverberating against your throat. He pressed you more firmly against the railing, his body bracketing yours as though he wanted to block out the rest of the world.

His mouth continued its path along the line of your throat, slow and reverent, stopping just above the collar of your shirt. Every kiss left a trail of fire in its wake, every touch pulling you deeper into him.

“Tell me if—” he started, his voice hoarse and uneven, but you cut him off, your hands gripping his shirt to pull him back up to kiss you again. This time, you were the one who deepened it, letting him feel the weight of everything you couldn’t say. He responded instantly, his hands roaming over your waist, your hips, your back, as though trying to memorize the shape of you.

You broke the kiss only when you couldn’t breathe, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “Not here.”

Harry froze for a moment, his breath heavy against your lips, his eyes locked on yours. They were dark, intense, filled with something raw and vulnerable. You half-expected him to hesitate, but instead, he nodded, his hand sliding down to find yours. His grip was warm, firm, and steady, like it was the only thing anchoring him.

“Come on,” he said quietly, his voice low and sure.

You didn’t need to ask where. You just followed, your hand in his, trusting him completely.

─────────────

Harry led you through the castle’s dim corridors, his hand steady in yours. The silence wasn’t awkward—it buzzed with anticipation, each step echoing softly against the stone walls. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you in the moment, though the occasional brush of his thumb against your skin sent a quiet thrill through you, making it harder to focus on anything but him.

He didn’t tell you where he was taking you, and you didn’t ask. You trusted him completely.

When he stopped, it was outside an empty classroom near the Charms corridor. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing a quiet space bathed in silvery moonlight pouring through tall, arched windows. The room was unremarkable, desks and chairs pushed to the sides, but it felt secluded—safe. A haven away from the weight of everything outside.

Harry let go of your hand only to close the door behind you, locking it with a flick of his wand. The soft click echoed in the stillness, and your pulse quickened as he turned back to face you. His gaze met yours, sharp and intense, and for a moment, you felt frozen under the weight of it.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you stepped forward, your hands finding the front of his shirt again, pulling him down into a kiss that left no room for doubt. His lips met yours hungrily, and his hands found your waist, anchoring you against him. This time, there was no hesitation in the way he held you, his touch firm but reverent, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

The kiss deepened quickly, the tension that had simmered between you all night spilling over like floodwaters. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his body pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear even a breath of space between you. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he broke the kiss only long enough to let you pull it over his head, the fabric falling to the floor.

Your gaze drifted over his chest, tracing the faint scars etched across his skin, each one a reminder of everything he’d endured. The moonlight highlighted every line, every curve of muscle, and for a moment, he looked vulnerable—unsure. His chest rose and fell quickly, his nerves evident, but you didn’t let him linger there.

Your fingers brushed over his scars, soft and deliberate, and you leaned in to kiss him again. He melted into it, his hesitance replaced by a quiet urgency as his hands slid to your hips. His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, finding your neck, his kisses slow and infused with something akin to hunger. The heat of his mouth against your skin made you shiver, your breath catching as his fingers found the hem of your shirt and lifted it.

You raised your arms to let him pull it off, and when he stepped back just slightly, his gaze lingered on you in the moonlight, reverent and full of something raw that made warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say it aloud.

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands wandering your sides and back, like he was mapping every inch of you. You barely noticed the edge of a desk pressing into the backs of your thighs as he guided you backward, his movements growing bolder with each passing moment.

Your fingers drifted down his chest, following the ridges of his muscles until they found the waistband of his jeans. You worked the button free, and Harry let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice strained, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart stumble.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of nerves and desire coursing through you. “I want this. I want you.”

Something in his expression shifted, the raw emotion behind his gaze making your chest ache. He kissed you again, slower this time, as though he was trying to pour every unsaid word, every feeling he couldn’t name, into the press of his lips.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the desk with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the warmth of him against you making your breath hitch. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered sound felt all-consuming, pulling you deeper into him.

The world outside disappeared. There was no war, no expectations, no fear. Just Harry—the feel of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the quiet way he murmured your name like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight you both carried didn’t matter. In this moment, there was nothing but the two of you, and that was enough.

Harry’s hands gripped your thighs firmly, his touch grounding and electric all at once. His kisses grew hungrier, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding back for far too long. The edge of the desk pressed into your back, but the slight discomfort melted away beneath the heat of his body pressing against yours. Everything about him—his hands, his lips, the low, ragged sounds he made—consumed you entirely.

Your fingers worked at the top of his jeans, fumbling slightly in your haste. Harry groaned softly against your mouth as you finally managed to pull them down, his breath hitching sharply when your hands slipped below the waistband of his boxers brushing against the heated skin just above his throbbing length. His hips jerked slightly at the contact, and the sound that escaped his lips was low and guttural, sending a rush of heat spiraling through you.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His green eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and filled with something raw that made your pulse stutter. His hands slid to your hips, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans. “Can I?” he asked, his voice low and rough, barely steady.

“Please,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help him.

His gaze stayed locked on you as he slid your jeans down, the fabric brushing against your skin in a way that left you shivering. The look in his eyes made your breath catch—a mixture of reverence and want, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His hands trembled slightly as he tossed the jeans aside, and the way his gaze raked over you, slow and deliberate, made warmth bloom low in your stomach.

“You’re…” He trailed off, his words faltering as his eyes met yours again. He didn’t need to finish the sentence; the intensity in his expression said everything his voice couldn’t.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his bare chest pressed against yours. The heat of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you, and when his hands slid back to your thighs, parting them just slightly, you gasped quietly. His lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper. Each kiss was deliberate, filled with a need that made your whole body tremble.

One of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your underwear. The touch was tentative at first, testing, but when a soft moan slipped from your lips, his confidence grew. His fingers pressed more firmly, tracing the heat of you through the fabric, and you arched into his touch instinctively, the sensation overwhelming.

“God, you’re so—” Harry broke off with a groan, his free hand gripping your thigh tightly as you rolled your hips against his hand. His breathing was unsteady now, ragged and uneven. “You’re perfect.”

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your pulse race. You reached for him, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers, finally pulling the restrictive barrier between the two of you down. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as your hand wrapped around him, the heat and weight of him making your own breath falter. He let out a strangled moan, his hips rocking instinctively into your touch.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice tight, like he was holding on to the last threads of control. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands trembling as they moved to your waist. “I want to—can I—”

You nodded quickly, your cheeks warm, reaching for him again to help guide his length inside you. The desk creaked faintly as he stepped closer, his hands finding your hips as he lined himself up with you. He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world stilled.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer this time, steady but full of emotion.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice sure despite the nerves and anticipation rushing through you. “I want this, Harry. I want you—all of you.”

That was all he needed.

Harry leaned in, his lips finding yours again as he pushed forward, slow and purposeful. The initial stretch made you tense, your fingers instinctively tightening against his shoulders. But then his breath brushed warm against your cheek, and the soft, shaky sound he let out as he slid deeper sent a ripple through you, easing the tension and replacing it with something else entirely—something that left you breathless.

“You okay?” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. His voice was tight, laced with restraint, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“Yes,” you whispered, your nails digging lightly into his skin as your body adjusted to him. “Just… don’t stop.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, his hands trembling slightly where they gripped your waist. He started to move, his hips rolling in a slow, achingly delicious rhythm that made your breath catch. Each motion sent a wave of heat building steadily through you, your body arching instinctively toward his as though you couldn’t get close enough.

“God,” he groaned, the sound rough and raw as it left him. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly to meet his thrusts, and the shift made you gasp. Your head fell back against the desk as the new angle sent a spark shooting through you. “You feel so—”

The rest of his words broke off into a low curse, his lips finding your neck again as his movements quickened. The world beyond the room ceased to exist—the only things that mattered were the soft creak of the desk beneath you, the heat of his body against yours, and the quiet, desperate noises that escaped him with every thrust.

Your hips tilted to meet his rhythm, and the friction left you dizzy, sparks lighting beneath your skin. Your hands slid into his hair, tangling in the messy strands as his face buried in the curve of your shoulder. His breath was hot against your skin, and each groan that escaped his lips sent a shiver coursing down your spine, your body arching into his as the pressure low in your belly coiled tighter.

“Harry,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, raw and unrestrained. His response was a groan that seemed to echo through you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his touch almost possessive as he pulled you closer.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, the words rough against your skin, reverent and awed. His voice broke slightly as he added, “I—I can’t…”

“Don’t hold back,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. Your hands slid down his back, clutching at his waist to anchor yourself. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

For a brief moment, his pace faltered, his forehead pressing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment. And then he kissed you again, hard and desperate, his lips crashing into yours as though he needed you more than air. His rhythm grew uneven, each thrust deeper, more precise, until the tension inside you snapped.

The wave that crashed over you left you trembling, your body shuddering in his arms as the heat and intensity overwhelmed you. His name slipped from your lips again, barely audible, as you clung to him.

Moments later, Harry followed, his movements faltering as he buried himself in you one final time. A low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he trembled against you, his forehead dropping to yours. His breaths came fast and ragged, his chest heaving as he held you close, his hands gripping your hips as though afraid to let go.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The room was silent except for the soft hum of your breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as Harry shifted, wrapping his arms more securely around you. He pulled you close, his body still trembling faintly, and you rested your head against his shoulder, your fingers tracing aimless patterns across his back.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice hoarse but filled with quiet concern.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head just enough to brush a kiss against his neck. “More than okay,” you whispered.

Harry let out a quiet laugh, low and warm, his arms tightening around you. “Me too,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your temple.

Finally, for what seemed like an eternity. Everything felt right, it felt okay. Like harry could just..exist again.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 3

WOOP WOOP CHAPTER 3 IS HERE AND BOY IS IT JUICY🫣 On a serious note though, we are finally getting into some of the exciting bits of the story!! I’m hoping by the next chapter we will finally be back in the present. No more sad flashbacks!! Also y’all writing Lizzy is genuinely my favorite. If this fic wasn’t about Ford I’d be wifing her up instead😔 Anyways- here’s chapter 3 you lovely souls!

Themes: Consumption of alcohol (reader lowkey gets wasted), major hangover, bill himself is a warning, suggestiveness kind of?? idk, heartache, lizzy is overall an amazing friend, alllll the angst and feelings, injuries, etc okay enjoy!

The drive to Lizzy’s place is quiet, the steady hum of the car engine and the sound of raindrops against the windshield the only background noise. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the trees pass by through the window as you fiddle with the wedding band around your finger. Lizzy glances at you occasionally, a small frown on her face as she senses your mood. She remains silent for most of the ride, giving you space to process your emotions if need be.

It's not long before the car rolls to a stop in front of her apartment building. You reach around to gather your belongings from the backseat and step out into the rainy afternoon. Lizzy follows suit, bright pink umbrella in hand as she leads you towards the entrance.

Once inside the building, she unlocks the door to her apartment building and the two of you usher inside. The soft yellow light of the living room envelopes you, creating a cozy atmosphere in stark contrast to the gloominess outside.

Lizzy begins to kick off her shoes, hanging her keys as she silently studies your face. She can see the turmoil in your eyes, and the uncertainty you’re trying to hide.

“So,” she says gently, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

Your eyes snap out of the daze they were in as you look over at Lizzy, giving her a weak smile.

“Oh, yeah I guess. Things went a lot better than I thought they would.”

Her expression relaxes at your response, a hint of relief showing on her face.

“That’s good,” she says as she walks over to the couch and plops down on it, gesturing for you to do the same. “I was half-expecting a tearful scene or something, honestly.”

You manage a light chuckle at her remark, plopping down on the couch next to her. You pull your knees to your chest as you grab a blanket draped across the back of it, wrapping it around you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Ford took it pretty well, actually. Better than I expected.”

Lizzy raises a brow as she leans against the back cushions, her arms crossing. “Girl, he better take it well after what he said to you. If it had been me, I would’ve dropped his ass on the spot.”

You can’t help but let out a small snort of laughter at her words, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips for the first time in a while. It’s a relief to have Lizzy’s no-nonsense attitude around, her bluntness serving as a much-needed dose of honesty.

“Yeah, yeah Liz, I know.” you admit, the smile still lingering on your face. “I was a little tempted.”

Lizzy grins, satisfied with your response as she reaches over and pats your knee supportively.

“As you should,” she says with a nod. “You don’t deserve treatment like that of any kind, no matter how important his research is to him.”

You frown slightly at her words, opting to pick at the blanket below as a distraction.

“Yeah..”

Lizzy watches your expression carefully, sensing your discomfort. She tilts her head slightly, her gaze searching your face.

“But you don’t quite agree, do you?” she probes gently.

You let out a sigh, unsure how to articulate your feelings as you continue to fiddle with the fabric of the blanket.

“It’s just… complicated Liz,” you say, your voice tinged with guilt and frustration. “Yes, I’m hurt and angry with him, but I also understand where he’s coming from. We’ve been together almost our whole lives, and this is all he has ever worked towards. His research is important to him, and he’s under a lot of pressure.”

Lizzy nods slowly as she listens to your words, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. She reaches over and places a hand on top of yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting.

“I get that Y/N, I do,” she says quietly. “And I’m not saying he’s completely in the wrong. But you shouldn’t have to feel like an afterthought in his life either. That’s not fair to you.”

Your eyes brim with tears at her response, your hand twisting and taking hers tightly.

“I know,” you say, your voice threatening to break. “I just wish we could fix things..”

Lizzy squeezes your hand as your tear-filled eyes meet hers.

“And you will, Y/N. It’ll just take some time.”

A small, wobbly smile forms on your lips at her reassurance, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. The hope that you might be able to fix things with Ford, to find a way to bridge the gap that’s widened between you both, is a small but significant comfort.

“Thank you, Liz,” you murmur, your voice still shaky. “I really hope you’re right.”

Lizzy stands with a smile, her hand pulling away from yours and resting on your shoulder.

“I know I’m right chick, because you two love each other. I’ve seen it.”

Your heart warms at her confidence, a soft smile forming on your lips as you nod.

“Now, how about some pizza?”

The few weeks you spend with Lizzy fly by, days passing in a blur of movies, late-night conversations, and plenty of chocolate induced comfort eating. As the final night of your stay approaches, Lizzy turns to you with a sly grin on her face.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been pretty reclusive the past couple of weeks, but it’s your last night here and I refuse to let you spend it watching crappy movies in my living room.”

She places her hands on her hips and gives you a stern look.

“We’re going out for drinks and that’s final.”

You mope as you walk into her view from the bathroom, your voice annoyed and pleading as you speak.

“Liz, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m a married woman, and this dress feels less than... modest.”

Lizzy rolls her eyes, her expression clearly unconvinced.

“Girl, you’re not here to pick up someone, you’re here to have fun. And as for the dress I picked out for you, it looks fantastic. Stop overthinking it.”

She gives you a onceover, inspecting your outfit.

“Besides, I’d like to see anyone who tries hitting on you tonight.”

You pout as you watch her, pulling down your dress so it covers your knees.

“I don’t know how Ford would feel about this..”

Lizzy scoffs, shaking her head.

“Ford’s not here, and we both know he should be the last person you’re trying to impress right now. You’re still young, and attractive Y/N, you deserve to enjoy yourself for one night without him on your mind. Not to mention you’ve got to live your life without kids while you can. I know the two of you have talked about it. ”

She grabs the hem of your dress and tugs it back up, flashing you a defiant look.

“And if he has a problem with you having fun, he can talk to me.”

You sigh as you give in, knowing Lizzy wouldn’t be changing her mind about your all’s plans for the night.

“Fine, fine. But we’re not staying out too late, okay?”

Lizzy grins, victorious.

“That’s more like it! And don’t worry, I promise we won’t be out until dawn,” she assures you. “Just a few drinks, maybe a little dancing, and then we’ll come back here. You trust me, right?”

“More than anything Liz.”

And that’s how you find yourself at the bar now, one too many drinks in and slumped against Lizzy’s shoulder.

She laughs at your state, her own cheeks flushed from drinking. She slings an arm around your shoulders, keeping you upright and steady in the booth the two of you occupied.

“Goodness chick, are you already trashed? We’ve barely been here an hour!” she teases, her voice lighthearted and amused.

You grumble something in response, your head spinning from the alcohol in your system. You take another sip from your glass, your tongue loose and inhibitions lowered.

“I blame you,” you slur, pointing an accusatory finger at Lizzy. “You’re a bad influence.”

Lizzy laughs loudly at your accusation, her eyes sparkling. “No one forced you to down those shots, Y/N,” she says, sliding out of the booth with ease. “I’m going to get you some water, alright? You stay right here in your seat.”

You nod lazily at her words, the idea of staying where you are very appealing. You watch groggily as she strides away, her bell bottoms and flare top in tow. She weaves through the crowd to make her way to the counter, your eyes becoming heavy.

Just as you’re starting to doze off from the alcohol, a presence suddenly sits down in the booth across from you. You blink in surprise, your vision clearing slightly as you focus on the newcomer.

Your eyes widen as you recognize your husband’s face, his features strangely serious and intense as he stares back at you. But there’s something off about him… Something otherworldly in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice cool and calculated. “If it isn’t dear Y/N. You look a little worse for wear.”

Your vision blurs as you grip the side of the table, your words slurred as you speak.

“F.. Ford?”

Ford smiles widely, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. The expression is slightly unfamiliar, different from the familiar warmth you’re used to. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“In the flesh, honey,” he drawls, his voice smooth and flirtatious.

“But I see you’ve had quite a few drinks already. Feeling a little dazed? I wonder how Sixer would feel about me seeing you in this state and not him. Hilarious!”

Your arm trembles weakly as you hold yourself up, vision blurring in and out as you sway slightly in your seat.

“Wha.. What? Why are you.. here..?”

His lips curl into a smug smirk as he eyes your disheveled form, eyes lingering on your exposed skin, clearly enjoying your confusion and intoxication.

“Oh, I had a little chat with Fordsy earlier. He agreed to let me take the reins for a few hours…”

He gives a careless shrug. “You know how he is. All work and no play. Figured I’d take advantage of the situation, hell, I even got him a new tattoo!”

You sit there, dumbfounded and wavering in and out of consciousness as your mind tried to process what Ford was talking about.

Ford’s – or rather, Bill’s – eyes rake over you again, giving an exaggerated sigh before his lips turned into a sly grin.

“You really are a sight for sore eyes, I can see why Sixer married you.”

Your thoughts are still spinning from the alcohol, making it hard to focus on the conversation. You struggle to keep yourself upright, your body feeling heavy and numb.

Bill notices your dazed state, chuckling as he gives a mockingly sympathetic tone.

“You look a little out of it, darling. You really shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Especially considering how easy it’d be to trick you into a deal right now.”

Your mind races with confusion as you stand up weakly, your gut telling you something wasn’t right as you sway back and forth, (Or maybe it was the alcohol) your vision blurring as you scan the place in search of Lizzy.

“Going somewhere? Those human legs of yours don’t look very stable!”

You wobble forward, ignoring his protests as you keep moving.

“You really should listen to me if you want to avoid that nasty bruise tomorrow!”

He calls out, and before you know it you trip, and everything goes black.

Hours later… aka early morning.

You slowly open your eyes, your head pounding and your memories fuzzy. You realize you’re lying on a couch in Lizzy’s apartment, a cool cloth pressed over what you assume to be a large tender bruise on your forehead.

Lizzy is sitting perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. She notices your eyes flutter open and lets out a relieved sigh.

“Oh thank god,” she mutters. “You had me worried for a second there. I stayed up with you all night waiting for you to wake up.”

“Liz?” you mumble, head pounding. “What the hell happened? My head is killing me..”

Her expression softens at your groggy murmur, her hand reaching out instinctively to brush the hair away from your face.

“Hey, take it easy,” she says, voice low and soothing. “You took a pretty nasty fall back at the bar. Hit your head on a table on the way down.”

Your eyes widen as your memory jogs itself.

“What..? Wait, Ford.. Ford was there?”

Lizzy freezes, her expression guarded at the mention of Ford. She averts her gaze, focusing her attention on the cloth that she’s holding against your forehead.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, her voice hesitant. “He showed up towards the end of the night when I went to grab you a water… You don’t remember?”

You think to yourself for a moment, your memory patchy and vague.

“I mean, I kind of do. But it was weird? Did something happen?”

Lizzy is silent, her gaze still firmly averted from yours. She adjusts the cloth, pressing it against your head with a little more pressure than necessary.

“Nothing happened,” she finally says, her voice tight. “You just had a little too much to drink and tripped, that’s all.”

Her words are curt and dismissive, clearly trying to downplay the situation. But there’s something in her expression, a flicker of unease that betrays her true emotions.

She glances at you briefly, her eyes meeting yours for a split second before moving back to your injury.

“Lizzy..?” you say, silently pleading with her to tell you the full truth.

She exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping in resignation. She knows you’re not going to let this go, and she owes you the truth.

“Alright, fine,” she mutters avoiding your gaze. “When I got back to the booth, it was exactly when you had fell..”

You listen closely, sitting yourself up slightly.

“I had noticed Ford when I got there, sure, but when I went to go help you..”

Lizzy pauses, a frown forming on her face as she continues.

“Ford laughed,” she says as her eyes meet yours, full of concern and.. fear? “And not in a lighthearted way, in a cruel mocking way Y/N..”

Lizzy lowers the cloth from your head, placing it in her lap as you sit there, dumbfounded.

“He was just… enjoying the view, I guess,” She mutters bitterly. “Like you were some kind of joke, I don’t know Y/N. It was fucking weird, really fucking weird. I didn’t like it. He laughed as if he was the one who had done it.”

Lizzy trails off, brows furrowed as she clenches her fists. While you, on the other hand, are utterly speechless.

Your mind reels with this new information, struggling to reconcile the image of Ford – laughing coldly and mockingly at your predicament - with the caring, affectionate husband you’ve known him to be your whole life.

“I… I don’t understand,” you stutter, your voice small and confused.

“He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that. Not Ford.”

But as you say those words, you can’t help but recall the other strange things that had happened earlier that night. Ford’s detached demeanor, his unfamiliar choice of words, the way he seemed so cold and calculating. Your heart clenches in your chest at the thought, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Had something happened over the few weeks you’ve been gone? Did Ford get too deep in his research? Something wasn’t right.

As you try to make sense of the situation, Lizzy watches you with a mix of compassion and concern. She knows this is incredibly tough for you to hear, but she also seems to have her own worries about the situation.

“I don’t know Y/N,” she says quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. “It was just… so not him. I don’t know what the hell happened. But I’ve never seen him act like that before. It’s like he was a different person.”

Her voice trails off, leaving the two of you in silence as you’re both lost in thought.

Eventually, Lizzy breaks the silence, her voice sympathetic as she places a hand on top of yours.

“How about this, you rest up today, and when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the cabin to get some answers from Ford? Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside of you.

“Alright,” you murmur. “I’m still feeling pretty rough, but I’d like to see him… tonight, if possible.”

Despite your confusion and worry, you know that facing your husband and talking with him is the only way to get answers. The answers that you crave so desperately in hopes that it’ll mend your breaking heart - and marriage.

Lizzy gives you a reassuring nod.

“Of course,” she says gently. “You rest up, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”

She stands up, gently readjusting the cloth on your head.

“Try to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod, laying yourself back down.

You’re going to need it to cross the bridge that awaits you tonight.

READER AND BILL INTERACTION WOOP WOOP!! Also I’m not gonna lie, I feel like I messed up the timeline a little bit but I’m just gonna go for it. Thank you for reading! :)

Tag List: @artistic-gato @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @violetvsworld @inquiit @catr4dora

[fowlfics]

🤎🧡💛Pigment of Imagination opened PreOrders! 💚💙💜

(*note - I'm just an overexcited contributor spreading the news over tumblr xD)

The day has finally come - it's time to fill our lives with a spot of colour! :D

You can see everything on the bigcartel - pigmentofimagination.bigcartel.com - or check out the twitter/bsky account!

Click keep reading for my excited yapping :3c

We've got a bunch of bundles available - digital, zine-only, merch-only, flat and full - and they're all chock-full of colourful goodies filled with symbolism!!!

For digitals, we have a bunch of exquisite luffy emotion emojis by @kenas-artstuff , a cute seraphim colouring page by @eks-art and a delicious printable shopping list by @orangeramphastosart !

For physical merch, we have the flats: three prints - Cora-san with the mini-Hearts by @/florakitz , rainbow strawhats and mini-print of Barto by by @veaski - a gorgeous double-sided Pell & Chaka bookmark by @softcenteregg , and an intense paint fight stickersheet by @/kenas-artstuff!

And then the 3D stuff! A pin of Cora-san (can never have enough of him!!) in a flower pot and a memopad with alllll the girls (Isuka, Nami, Hibari, Monet, Tashigi, Robin and Reiju!) by @/AKAbFlare , a sweet charm of Zoro with marimo balls around him by @hokage , a set of 8 character badges (The Warlords - Blackbeard, Mihawk, Doflamingo, Boa, Law, Kuma, Jinbe - and, of course, Buggy, all of whom you can absolutely arrange on your board like those wheel art challenges!) by @softcenteregg and, finally, a bubbly charm of Law using a Room on his unsuspecting crew and the cutest Chopper-themed washi tape by @/orangeramphastosart !

Honestly, I think the flat bundle is a steal - the wholeass zine and all the flat merch, for just $25? $35 if you add on the digital goodies, which includes the anthology with nearly a dozen amazing fics by so many great authors (and myself!)? An incredible deal!

I bet you've never seen this many fics and art pieces in a single project! And they're all absolutely stunning ✨ Keep an eye out - there's going to be previews shared in the next few weeks 💜

And not only are there SUUUUPER stretch goals, there's also this beautiful early-bird sticker of Usopp (made by Kena) for all the orders placed in the first 48 hours!!

[tldix]

Do i wanna know?

summary: fleeing to college after catching your highschool sweetheart cheating, you find yourself right back in your home town 4 years later. your degree almost complete & your sanity slowly slipping, you find solace in the one place you know you shouldn’t. your dads best friend. Dean Winchester.

word count: idk something embarrassingly long probably🫣

warnings : mature 18+, dbf, AU, yearning AF, spn content, grumpy/sunshine ish?? idk (im trying to include most of the main characters from spn, again AU)

a/n: this is my 2nd ever fic so pls be nice 😔 (& lmk your thoughts, any ideas you may want added) i have every intention of making this a series, if you wanna be added to my tag list just comment 🫶🏼 with alllll this being said i hope you enjoy 🥲

The airport was alive with chaos—families reuniting, announcements echoing overhead, and the constant shuffle of luggage wheels against tiled floors. you adjusted the strap of your duffel bag & guitar case as you took a steadying breath as you followed the crowd toward baggage claim.

It had been months since you last came home, and even longer since you had really felt at home. College had consumed you, with its never-ending stream of exams, late-night study sessions, and endless cups of cheap coffee. Now, with your degree in psychology just a semester away, the weight of expectations pressed heavier on your shoulders.

you tugged her phone from your pocket and skimmed the last text from your dad.

| see you soon kid. we can stop at Bobby’s diner on the way home. i know he’d be over the moon to see you, bet you’re sick of all that tofu & books. don’t forget your still my daughter- not some Freud-loving brainiac”

you stifle a giggle as you head towards the parking lot, eyes skimming for the old green dodge your dad refuses to part with. you let your thoughts drift back to a time before you left for college. when you were waitressing at Bobby’s diner, when you were still with that jackass Colter. when the world felt as if it was falling apart. you quickly shake the thoughts from your head, moving your feet along the pavement out the double doors. your eyes fall on your dads truck, he jumps out with a 9 mile smile as he runs towards you.

“dad! oh my gosh i’ve missed you”

your dad picks you up, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. you melted into his embrace, breathing in the scent of motor oil and aftershave.

“sticks, Look who’s back from the land of overpriced coffee and vegan muffins!”

“Dad, not everyone in college eats vegan muffins.” you laughed.

as your dad grabs your bags, he bombards you with questions. “how was school?” “didn’t meet another jackass like that one boy did you?” “i’m so glad you’re home now sticks, i was real tired of eating take out”

finally. this is what you were searching for. the peace feeling only your dad can seem to give you. the home feeling. you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the warm smile trying to seep through the wedges in your teeth. you glance out the window, seeing all the familiar streets & shops. the Macleod bakery, Harvelles road house, the dentist your dad would fight tooth & nail to get you into. how was Garth now? you found yourself wondering. it’s been a long time since you were home, you couldn’t be happier. for the first time in years you felt as if you had absolutely no worries. none at all, well until your dad said

“i planned you a welcome home party, more like a bbq but dean was more than happy to let us use his grill. it’s saturday if that works for you sweetheart?”

Dean Winchester had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, like an unofficial uncle who never missed a BBQ or a birthday. He and your dad, J.P., had been best friends since their teens, inseparable through thick and thin. Dean was brash, charming, and had a knack for pushing your buttons in the way only he could. you hadn’t seen him since Christmas, but the memory of his teasing smirk lingered in your mind.

“sweetheart? is that okay?”

you fumble over your words, trying to push them out & making them seem as nonchalant as possible.

“yeah uh that’s fine dad. can’t wait”

you glance up to see your dad pulling into his usual parking spot outside Bobby’s diner. Bobby was a good man, your dad’s parents weren’t around when you were born so Bobby was quick to claim you as his own granddaughter. blood or not, youre family. as you open the creaky door of your dads old truck, you find every peace of worry gone again. you practically skip to the door, tearing it open as you glance around. ‘that old man really doesn’t change shit’ you thought to yourself.

“sticks? is that really you?”

you thought you were fine, you really convinced yourself until you heard that deep baritone voice. now you felt the ache of tears pressing against your eyes. you whip your head around, eyes meeting the one & only Bobby Singer. the whole diners stopped eating & talking. honing in on the grumpy old man facade slipping from Bobby’s face. you find yourself jogging over to him, he drops the tray to the floor as he quickly envelopes you into a hug.

“Pops! it’s so good to see you”

your voice is muffled from the hold Bobby has on you, his own tears falling down his face into his flannel to mix with yours. you glance up meeting his eyes as he says

“damnit girl, i can’t believe you’re here. how was school? you back for good?”

you pull yourself away hesitantly

“i’m back for good pops. finishing out my last semester here, was hoping you still had that waitressing position open”

your eyebrows shoot up hopefully as a small smirk falls on your face, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder as he chuckles

“for you? of course.”

Bobby’s eyes finally meet your fathers, he pulls Jp into a tight hug

“hell boy why didn’t you tell me she was coming home. i’d have-“

jp chuckles as he cuts bobby off

“listen old man, you got enough going on. plus i figured a surprise would do you some good. especially a sticks shaped surprise”

hours passed as you sat & caught up with Bobby, his eyes never leaving yours. almost like he couldn’t believe you were really here. you talked about school, the waitressing job you had in California (but making sure to let Bobby know no place could compare to his). as you ate a smile never left your face, Jp & Bobby telling you stories about the 4 years you were gone. youre laughing, you’re crying. you didn’t know you could feel so many emotions just by coming home. you’re about to leave when Bobby pulls you aside. hugging you as he tells you

“sticks now listen. i know you don’t wanna hear what i’m bout to say but i also know if you hear it from anyone else you’ll lose it. Col-“

you pull away, locking eyes with Bobby

“pops please don’t-“

“wait just a second lemme finish. Colters getting married. got a baby on the way”

you felt the ground beneath your crumble. no, no, no. that couldn’t be happening. your highschool sweetheart. your first kiss, your first- well everything. sure he was mean, a tiny bit abusive but he was yours. or so you thought.

“what do you mean pops? he- he can’t be. there’s no way”

you stumble back but before you fall, bobby’s arms are around you.

“i know kiddo. i know. but hey, maybe it’s better this way huh?”

his hands are wiping the tears you didn’t realize were falling. you had so many questions, did he really love me? how could he move on? why did he never reach out? well maybe it’s because he was too busy out getting some skank pregnant. wait no you can’t think like that, she didn’t do anything to you. it wasn’t like this mystery woman was holding your heart in your hands, no that was that stupid prick Colter.

“who?”

“who what sticks?”

bobby’s eyes look too worrisome. you hate when he gives you those eyes.

“who is he marrying”

bobby sighs, suddenly finding the sticky old floorboards far more interesting than the expression that’s gunna cross your face.

“jo.”

oh that hurt, jo. jo harvelle. your childhood bestfriend. bobby’s grip tightened on you, holding you steady as you go through the waves crashing through you. anger. hurt. betrayal. your dad approaches, seeing the light leave your eyes. he glances at Bobby, sharing a knowing look with him. he wraps his arm around, letting you bid your farewells as he lead you to the truck. as he opened the door for you, you slung yourself into the seat.

“sticks i- i’m sorry”

you wipe the rest of the tears from your face, nodding as you glance around the truck. your eyes get stuck on the polaroid of you & jo. a picture you used to cherish so deeply, but now you’d rather see it cast into the pits of hell. your dad catches what you’re eyes are lingering on as he closes your door. he makes his way around to his side, quickly grabbing the polaroid & stashing it away. he knew when you got told the news things would be different, your pain would be different. Colter was one thing, your highschool sweetheart who never lived up to the ‘sweetheart’ part. the man who made you shed more tears than you ever should’ve, the man who left you alone wondering where he was most nights when he was shacking it up at Harvelles bar, who wouldn’t answer his phone. your dad knew all this, he was the one you called when you couldn’t take it anymore. he was the one who came & picked you up from Colters parents house the night you ended things. the night you found out he cheated. 2 weeks before you left for college. your dad also knew that after you left, there wasn’t a thing he could say or do to make you come back. Jo on the other hand, she was your best friend. practically your sister. there wasn’t a weekend where Jo wasn’t at his house, in his pool, watching you & him work on cars & when you got older the one who helped you sneak those cars out. the one you called when Colter wasn’t treating you right. the one who called you when she knew Colter was at her moms bar. it felt unreal to your father, he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

The hum of tires on asphalt filled the silence as you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The house looked the same—warm porch lights glowing, the familiar sight of your first car parked sideways on the side of the house. the garage open, showing the new muscle car your dad must be going nuts over. Jp killed the engine and exhaled deeply. After four years away at college, home felt both comforting and alien.

Inside, you found seemingly nothing changed. the recliner was still the same, the stacks of car manuals everywhere, the coffee cup sized rim indentions on your dads side table, the only different thing was a picture you & your dad took on the 4th of july hanging above the tv stand. you’re standing in a pair of old jean shorts, your red bikini top sneaking out the side of your old worn white t-shirt covered in motor oil. your dad has his signature blue dodgers cap on, his mechanic uniform still clinging to him. laughing right back with you as he holds his belly. Sam took the picture & you were so thankful he did. you carried yourself up to your childhood bedroom, the only thing that changed was the size of the bed. instead of the measly little twin you now were the proud owner of a queen. the sage green comforter looked like a cloud, a dream even.

you dig out a change of clothes, your toiletries & make your way to your bathroom. the peace sign poster you picked out with Jo staring menacingly at you through the reflection. you hesitate for a second before deciding to rip it down. you crumble it up, throwing it in the trash can as you run a hand through your hair. stupid. that’s how you felt. why did you think you’d come back & everything would be waiting for you like the day you left? your eyes longed for tears to fall, you glance up catching yourself in the reflection before you shake your shoulders & sigh. you rip the airport clothes off, turning on a hot shower as you slip in. you hum the tune of an AC/DC song as you lather the soap in your hands & through your hair. you’re back, regardless of how anyone else feels. your got your job back at Bobby’s, you’re finishing your degree this year. everything’s gunna work out. everything’s gunna be fine, but if that was the truth why did you feel as if something was missing?

you get out of the shower, quickly drying off as you throw on a old tank top & a pair of sweats. you towel dry your hair, glancing over to the fogged up mirror as you pull a brush through it. you throw your dirty clothes in your laundry basket as you slide on your slippers. you make your way back to your room, settling down on the bed as you open up your bag.

your dads footsteps tear you from your thoughts, you glance up as he’s carrying a beer. you take it thankfully as he settles beside you on the bed, glancing over at your guitar case.

“you still play sticks?”

you nod, as you take a swig of your beer

“i do. ain’t played as much as id like too with how busy things have been though”

your dad takes a swig of his own beer, he smiles as he says

“well after dinner i want you to play me something”

you smile & nod, you loved playing for your dad. he’s who taught you really, who gave you the guitar you lug around everywhere. you run your fingers absentmindedly across the label of the beer as you think back to the time he gave you the guitar. it was your 11th birthday, the smile he beamed down at you was something you’d never allow yourself to forget. that, that was probably your happiest memory. your dads voice interrupts your thoughts as he says

“well i’ll be out in the garage. we’ll have some company for dinner since i gotta work from home today. you need me you come find me okay sugar?”

you smile to yourself, boy was it great to have someone care so much for you. you were used to just being ignored, not making but 1 singular friend in your years of college. Ashley. she was like a girl you’d never met before, ambitious, smart, beautiful, funny. the sarcasm that girl carried was something unreal. your dad already loved her after meeting her the one singular time he flew out to visit. you plop down on your bed, pulling your phone out as you quickly press ashley’s number. she picks up after the 3rd sing yelling through the phone

“sticks! come back oh god i’ll never make it without you”

sticks? since when did ashley also call you that? what is with everyone wanting this nickname to stick? you roll your eyes at your unintentional pun

“well hello there ash i miss you too” you giggle into the phone

“but no seriously how is it? feel better being at home?”

you bite back the endless trials of emotions you went through today, choosing not to unload the disaster your life’s become in a measly 24 hours. you find yourself picking at the thread of your sweats as you offer small talk, informing her you got your job back at the diner until you graduate. her swearing she’s flying out the second the gets the chance. you giggle & talk as you glance at the clock, you realized you completely lost track of time & you were sure dinner was ready. you hang up, promising you’ll call her after your first day as you make your way downstairs, the scent of ordered in pizza catches your nose as you giggle to yourself. as your feet touch the bottom step your dad turns to you

“well there she is, cmon sticks say hello”

you walk around the doorframe as your heart catches in your throat. Dean. Winchester.

“hey Freud” he greeted, his voice low drawl “long time no see”

“Freud, really?” you arched any eyebrow, meeting his gaze. his green eyes sparkled with mischief, & that smirk — God that smirk — was firmly in place.

“Freud, Jung, whoever you kids are into these days” dean shot back, standing from his place on the couch.

your dad chuckles

“don’t mind him, he’s just mad he’s too old to understand what you’re studying”

you laugh as you shake your head

dean cuts in as he says

“oh i understand it just fine” he said as he walks up to you “it’s all about mommy issues, right?”

you snorted

“i’m studying psychology, not you dean”

your dad burst out laughing, deans smirk faltering for a moment. he gave you an exaggerated bow as he says “Touchè”

as your dad drags dean over to the table you let yourself study his features, he looked the same — rough around the edges but effortlessly put together. his hands calloused & stained in motor oil. the veins prominent as he grabs the pizza box, smiling at something your father said. you quickly averted your gaze, feeling an unwelcomed heat creep up your neck.

“so sticks you nervous bout being back?”

your dad asks

you hesitated unsure of how to answer especially after the whirlwind of emotions you had to overcome today.

“a little. it’s been awhile, you know? i’m used to being busy all the time. having my job back at Pops surely will help though”

“well you’re home now.” your dad said, his voice warm. “relax, eat something other than cafeteria food & maybe give some of your old man here some of that brainiac advice” he beams

“careful” dean adds smirking, “you might open a can of worms with that one if you ain’t careful ‘old man’ “

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that fell on your face. it felt good to be back, banter, baggage & all.

—————————————

by the time you made it to the table you were trying to decide if you could just crawl up to your room or out the window, on the latter they would definitely know something was up. i mean your dad knew, he seen it first hand all day. but dean? no. he could not & would not see you crumble over something like that. it was hard enough to try to keep the actual relationship issues from dean when it happened, he definitely didn’t need the after effects.

you decided what’s the worst that could happen, you’re in your own home. with your father, & really you were just nervous. you did not expect to see dean today, not any day before saturday really. that’s why you find yourself turning to your dad & joking

“i’m surprised the houses still stands after how long i was gone”

“barely sticks” jp jokes as he grumbles “dean here only fixed the roof last week, don’t lean on the railing. it’s a death trap”

“hey that’s quality work” dean protests before taking a bite of his pizza

“quality work” you echoed, eyeing him. “remind me not to hire you when i get my own place.”

dean grins, leaning back in his chair as he wipes the pizza sauce from his lip

“don’t worry. i charge extra for smartasses”

your dad throws him a joking glare as he gets up to fetch some beers, leaving you both alone for the first moment since youve been home. you shift in your seat as you take a bite of your pizza.

“it’s good to see you sticks” dean said, his tone softer now as he catches your eye

you look up, startled by the sincerity in his voice. a small smile fights it way to your lips as you say “you too dean”

for a fleeting moment, you felt as if something electric, & impossible to ignore flashed between you. as quick as the moment appeared it dissolved when your dad breached the door with a huge grin

“beers here”

————————-

[radioapple-heathen]

My Top 10 📻🍎 'Multi-Chaptered' Fic Recs

(A continuation of my previous post. You can find info about my fic preferences and my top 10 'Series' fic recs here.)

1.) Somewhere down the line by kj_crwn

Complete (6/6). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

So, just like my #1 on my series recs, this fic has Lucifer and Alastor meeting in the living world first before canon takes place while Alastor is still a human, and then reuniting in Hell as the events of canon unfold. Absolutely my fav trope. It helps that the writing is absolutely gorgeous!!! This is such a comfort fic for me, could read it a million times over. It looks like the author considered making it a series but, at the time of making this rec list, it is a standalone fic.

2.) Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream by @winterveritas

Complete (2/2). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: AU - Hell. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Really, anything Winter touches is absolute gold, but this fic rocked me to my core. The way this author portrays Lucifer's grief during Alastor's absence, like. I've been reading fic a long, long time. It takes quite a bit to pull tears out of me, but I sobbed while reading this. Don't let that scare you away, this author is allergic to unhappy endings, but the gut punch of emotions, oh my god. Also, for those who love when extensions of the boys come into play, Alastor's shadow and Lucifer's snake have roles as well, and that is a huge headcanon of mine so it was delightful to see it in this. Writing is flawless, prose is gorgeous, dialogue is top-notch. Just agonizingly wonderful, beginning to end.

3.) Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before The Next Angelic War by @miribalis

Complete (8/8). Rated T+. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: I, like many others, stumbled across this fic due to this beautiful fanart and god. This fic is SO INCREDIBLE. The dynamics between the boys are everything????? This is a QPR take on them, and it's beautiful? Just gorgeous in every way, from the writing to the characterizations and the non-sexual intimacy exploration. ALLLLL the love for this fic.

4.) Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple

In-Progress (14/15). Rated T+. POV: Switches. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Wow. Just... It's hard to put into words the admiration I have for this author/fic. In such a popular fandom/ship, it can definitely be hard to find a unique take on said popular ship. However, this. THIS. This is one of the most original radioapple fics I've ever had the joy of reading. Beautiful imagery, STUNNING PREMISE, the emotions, the prose, THE RADIOAPPLE BOYS, everything about it is perfect.

5.) The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei

In-Progress (31/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Not sure there are words in the English language to describe how fantastic this fic is. Everything I wanna say feels lacking. This fic has some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read. And it is such a delicious character study on Alastor, the inner workings of that man's mind is just insane. The way syaunei takes such a complex character apart, strand by strand, is truly phenomenal. I mentioned in my fic preferences disclaimer that I lean more towards top!Lucifer, but lemme tell you, this is top!Alastor DONE RIGHT.

6.) Something in Me Understood by @winterveritas

Complete (8/8). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This was written for radioapple week 2024, and Winter spoiled us rotten with the frequency of updates for this one. Bookstore AU but make it sexy? XD I am trying to keep my gushing to a minimal, but really, all of Winter's fics are fantastic. This one also includes some beautiful art. AND AND AND intersex!Lucifer, which again... a weakness for me.

7.) Awake, Arise by iffervescent

Complete (14/14). Rated E. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

HOLY PLOT! As I mentioned in my previous post, I definitely prefer more romance vs heavy plot in my fanfics, but when a fic can balance them both as experty as this one HO BOY! It makes for truly a good time! 🙏 Fantastic fic!

8.) Passing Ships by @selphhelp, @androidwiththeparanoid

In-Progress. (7/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human/Great Gatsby inspo. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Please envision this gif of the man screaming "Let me tell you something! Let me tell you something!" as I ramble about this fic because its a fucking gem, and it is so so so criminally underrated. I know its niche, but I think people assume you need to know about The Great Gatsby to read/enjoy it. YOU DON'T. I'm telling you, I remember ZERO about that book, and this fic has been an absolute delight??? Yandere!Alastor??? Vox's One-Sided Psychosexual Obsession with Alastor??? Possessive Lucifer??? IT HAS IT ALL. And the writing and characterizations are superb!

9.) Strange Appetites by Gotllphi

In-Progress. (20/23). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: Extremely graphic depictions of violence.

Notes:

Ho boy. I... I DON'T KNOW WHAT SAY. *gestures vaguely*. ITS JUST GOOD? VERY GOOD?? but also, cannibalism, violence, Alastor being a golly ol' serial killer, consensual but not safe or sane bdsm, etc etc. Also plot galore!

10.) Born for Adversity by fourshadesofgreen

In-Progress. (2/3). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This is a short one, but I love everything this author writes, and the ending scene of chap 2 has been living in my head rent-free since they posted it. Human!Alastor has fallen in love with the Devil and tries to summon him through his killings. Fantastic premise and writing.

❤️❤️❤️

I'll be doing one more rec list for oneshots! I'll post it in a few days. I hope you guys are enjoying the recs!

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstar Week Day 4: Culture Clash (Prompt: Downtime)

This is another fic where I used an idea originally based on one of last year's prompts, specifically day 5's "Movie Night." Because movie nights are a pretty great way to use your downtime, right? For this one, I decided to do a little flipping of the script, as it were, in terms of Robin being the one to get lost in understanding pop culture from Starfire's home planet. I thought it would be a fun idea for the Titans to watch a movie from Tamaran, and it also gave me an excuse to indulge my headcanon of Cyborg and Starfire working together on cross-planetary (usually food-based, but nobody said it all had to be cuisine) projects.

Culture Clash

Starfire could barely keep herself still as Cyborg made one last check of Titan’s Tower’s main viewing screen. The two of them had been working on this project for months now, and Robin could feel the energy buzzing between them.

“Alllll righty, then, we should be good to go,” Cyborg said, backing up and wiping his hands more as a gesture of completion than any real need.

“Are y’all ready to witness the historic occasion that is Earth’s first interstellar movie night?”

Beast Boy raised his hand. “Question: Are we sure this is the first one on Earth? Because there’s kind of a lotta aliens in the Justice League and –”

“First. Ever,” Cyborg insisted. “Even if those guys have any, the Watchtower is in orbit above Earth so it doesn’t count.”

“Cool then! Heck yeah I’m ready!” Beast Boy replied enthusiastically. Raven simply nodded, Robin grinned and shot Cyborg a thumbs up, and nobody even had to ask Starfire with the way she was practically vibrating out of her seat.

“Oh, it has been so long since I last watched Lover’s Grove properly! It was one of my favorites growing up,” she gushed.

Beast Boy sprang up in his seat. “Wait, that title translates to ‘Lover’s Grove?!’ That sounds like a total chick flick!”

Starfire gave him an even look. “If you are using the term ‘chick’ in regards to a female individual, then wouldn’t any movie I enjoy constitute a ‘chick flick?’”

Beast Boy opened his mouth again to retort, but paused. Robin could practically see his brain trying to parse whether she was joking or not.

Cyborg chuckled. “Easy, B. I had to watch it a bunch to put the subtitles together and I still didn’t get tired of it. Star has a good taste in Tamaranean movies if this one is any clue.”

Starfire blushed and giggled at the praise, and Robin smiled at her and loosely swung an arm around her shoulder. Beast Boy, still a little put off, rolled his eyes and gagged teasingly at the show of affection.

*******

By the time they were about an hour into the movie, Beast Boy had changed his tune. He and Cyborg both laughed raucously as one of the characters on the screen made a comment about gloorgs and some place called the Deksa Mountains. Starfire was grinning and giggling along, leaned forward in her seat with her chin propped in her hands.

Robin didn’t get it.

When the laughter died down, he leaned over to Cyborg and spoke in a voice that he hoped was low enough that Starfire wouldn’t catch it. “Okay, I know gloorgs are those big guard dog-things,  but what do they have to do with anything?”

Cyborg sniffed and wiped a mirthful tear from his human eye. “I have no idea,” he muttered back, “but I bet the Deksa people wish they didn’t either!”

He chuckled again at his own joke, but Robin only frowned. This wasn’t the first cultural reference that had been lost to him – it felt like every other joke, and several of the more dramatic moments, had some distinctly Tamaranean element that he didn’t quite understand. Cyborg and Beast Boy seemed to be following along all right, but Raven was watching the movie with a bemused little frown on her face that said she was as lost in the references as Robin. At least that meant he wasn’t just clueless.

Starfire suddenly placed a hand on his arm and leaned over toward him. “Do you need help understanding the plot?” she whispered.

Robin jolted a little and winced, ashamed that his confusion was so obvious to her. He didn’t want her to think he couldn’t appreciate her favorite movie.

“Not… really,” he hedged. At her patient stare, though, he gave up and let his shoulders slump.

“I guess I just keep getting lost in all the Tamaranean cultural stuff,” he confessed. “I’m following along with the main story about the two families all right, but some of the details are… confusing.”

To his surprise, Starfire smiled and nodded in understanding. “I know that feeling very well. You doubtless recall how often I was confused by your Earth ways when I first moved here.”

Robin frowned. “Yeah, but you always seemed to just, I dunno, roll with it. I keep getting distracted and completely missing the punchlines.”

Starfire shrugged. “It was not always as easy as you make it sound. But… I suppose I made my own fun, in a sense. I made a game of sorts out of trying to learn or guess the situation from context, and simply followed the energy of you and the others when I was completely lost.”

She paused for a moment to glance back at the movie and snicker at some obscure joke – the comedy relief was stealing the show at the moment, so there’d been a lot of those lately – while Beast Boy cackled from the far end of the couch. With a thoughtful eye on him, she added, “I suspect Beast Boy and Cyborg are doing the same thing now.”

Robin’s brow furrowed and he hummed a little to himself, deep in thought. It made sense, but…

Starfire’s expression lit up with an idea. “Perhaps after the movie is over, I could explain the meanings behind any references that are confusing you. Then you will understand it better the next time.”

Robin smiled at that. It was such an obvious solution, but somehow hearing it out loud – and having Starfire suggest it, so he knew it would not be a bother for her – was enough to brighten his mood considerably. He was becoming increasingly interested in Tamaranean culture as time went on and everything about it seemed a little less daunting, and getting a better understanding about a piece of media that was so important to Starfire sounded like a wonderful way to learn even more.

“You know what?” he said, resting his shoulder comfortably against hers as they both settled back in their seats. “That sounds like a great idea.”

[rememberwren]

Okay, broke out the laptop to scream in your ear about some things I thought were really special about Skin Deep.

First of all, Simon's characterization. GODDAMN. Like you really know how to write him, how he goes more quiet and brisk the more nervous he is. So, so sexy, the way that Reader doesn't pick up on his vague cues that he likes her, but we alllll know what's happening. Nervous Ghost and don't-care Ghost are so similar, but you managed to convey the tiny details that made it thrilling to read.

The way you wrote him raising and lowering his mask was hot af. I could picture it every time, his little hidey place to help him feel less exposed to the hot girl looking at him with those eyes.

The descriptions of him being efficient and good at what he does -- SWOON. Big man with confident fingers make brain go BRRRRR

The subtle green flags throughout were just lovely. Watching her safely to her car. The way he abandons his usual silence to give her a bunch of info when she's nervous over text. The breaks, the modesty towels. Funny how it's so much more tempting to uncover yourself for someone who helps you stay covered. You just get it, Wren. You just get the nuance of attraction, and it shows.

When he insisted on that break, I KNEW. I LOVE guys jerking off in fics, you know why? Cause that shows they're not coercive. They fully understand that their sexual desire is their own job to manage, and it's just a thing they take care of because we're all adults here. HOT HOT HOT.

The attention to hygiene/contraception was super hot going hand-in-hand with grungy, cigarette loving Simon.

LOVED the part where Reader was trying to entice him to touch, and he wasn't understanding what she meant. That was so cute and funny.

Nipple play, ofc. Surprisingly rare in fics without lactation kink. Extra special to me.

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

This made me stop and paste it in a note for my review, because WOW. I've never read anything like that before. *I'm* not someone who can enjoy that particular position, so every time it comes up in a fic it takes me out of immersion and my thumb is braced to scroll to something farther down that I can relate to. But for some reason, him just being aware of different styles of anatomy and knowing to ask that, allowed me to stay in it.

Three fingers!!! Again, so RARE but (imo) so considerate when writing massive dudes. *I* don't write three fingers very often, because I feel like there's this stigma about it, that no one else shares my feelings that it's actually a helpful option ahead of sex with like a 6'4" dude. So seeing you write it was like... wow. I'm being a lil bitch about this, I should just write what I fucking want, look at Wren, she's doing it.

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

No need to beg?!? TEARS OF JOY -- this is just so much hotter than the ick I get when they do make Reader (me) beg. Just the zero-pressure interactions here were gorgeous.

The realism of him pushing past the limitations Reader thought she had of her own body was extra special.

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating)

*pounding my fists on the table* YES YES YES when you're with big dudes, you learn real quick which positions are the best (shallow!!)

His zero-pressure approach to her pleasure, specifically when she says she can't finish a second time and he's just like, “If you can’t, then don’t,” GGHGHDSIODFDOS HOTTTTTT "if it happens it happens, but I'm just going to keep touching you like this for as long as I feel like, okay?" PINNACLE SMUT for me. Elite of the elite.

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

I had to go back and read this like four times because I didn't grasp at first that he was joking. I was just like, "Oh, okay, already doing orgasm control, hmm okay." And then was so confused right after hahahahaha

Aww the asking her out right after fucking is so good and sweet, and a wonderful way to cement his character in everyone's minds.

Just WOW. I'll be coming back for rereads of this.

This ask was such a treasure, YOU are such a treasure. You need to be put inside a safe, a lockbox, behind a tripwire or SOMETHING. I could not find you more endearing right now. Thank you for seeing nuance in this when I felt like there wasn't any. You're an incredible writer and it shows even in the way you read.

[kyeskorner]

AAA TY THAT WAS SO GOOD!

I know Splatoween is long past by now, but GOD THE COSTUMES ARE ARE JUST ASKDLWDMDLDD-

Maybe Deep Cut (poly if you can!) x a reader who is just freaking out over their Splatoween outfits? Maybe Halloween enthusiast if you wanna go more general?? Idk I just need spooky times with the bandits!!

- Anon that asked for the Big Man hcs

P.S: Can I be Zombie Anon?

HELLO!!!! SORRY FOR THE WAIT ZOMBIE ANON! Also yes you can be Zombie Anon!!! I have the perfect idea for this, though I haven't written PolyCut before, but either way, I hope you enjoy!! ALSO I'M DOING THIS AS A FIC! It's long, so it'll be the "Keep Reading" tab!

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

SPLATOWEEN POLYCUT X READER

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

You sat in the bedroom, already in your Splatoween costume. It was nothing too extreme, but it was good enough with you. Suddenly, you heard some clicking, and in came your first girlfriend, Shiver, who was dressed up as a geisha.

"My, what an excellent costume you have there, darling!" Shiver commented, walking over to you. Your jaw dropped (not literally) upon seeing their outfit. She was so decked out!

"W-wow, Shiver! Your costume looks amazing!" You pointed out. Shiver closed her eyes and laughed, before sitting down next to you on the bed.

"Thank you, dear. I spent a lot of time preparing it." She said, interlocking her hand with yours. "Tonight is gonna be so much fun, wouldn't you say?" She smiled, now trailing her other hand through your tentacle hair.

"Y-yeah! Tonight's gonna be so much fun... just me... you...-"

"AND DON'T FORGET ME!"

Suddenly, your second girlfriend, Frye, came running into the room, sporting a more black outfit, and decked out in tons of jewelry. On top of her head was a murex shell. She then immediately tackled you, placing a big ol' smooch on your lips.

"My, Frye. Certainly decked out, are we?" Shiver looked at Frye, raising an eyebrow. Frye pulled away from the kiss, a huge smile showing quite clearly on her face.

"Yyyyep! I wanted to go alllll out today! Whaddya think? Pretty awesome, right?!" She smirked, looking over to you. "And look at you! You look soooo awesome! I could just eat you up!" Frye grabs your cheeks and squishes them together, making silly little sounds.

"Haha, okay, Frye..." You giggled. Frye was definitely the silliest of the group. She always knew how to raise your spirits. Shiver shortly follows in on the laughter... but then, you heard a *BUMP*.

"Ay... ay! (Ow... We really need to lower the door!)" Your boyfriend, Big Man said. He was wearing a sheet, sewn to look like a ray. It reminded you of the Boogeyman in a way, but just seeing him made you smile.

"Big Man!!! Look at you! You look so silly!" Frye hopped off your lap and walked over to Big Man, playfully punching him. He lets out an "Ay!" in response. You looked at all three of your partners.

"Hm? Something on your mind, Y/N?" Shiver taps your shoulder, noticing the trance you're in. Suddenly, you get off the bed, pulling Shiver along. You share an embrace with all three of your partners.

"You all look so COOL!" You exclaim, hugging them as tightly as possible. Big Man, being quite literally the Big Man, wraps his fins around you right. Shiver hugged you back too, letting out a happy sigh. Frye was the last to return the hug, but when she did, she hugged y'all TIGHT. You all pull away for a breath, before laughing.

"Tonight really is gonna be a blast..." You mutter, looking back at your three partners.

"You're dang right it is! Now come on, let's go get as much candy as possible! Whoever gathers the most wins!" Frye exclaimed, bolting out the door.

"A-ay... ay. (O-oh... someone should make sure she doesn't get hurt.)" Big Man said, slowly following her out the door, NOT bumping his head this time.

You and Shiver were the only ones left in the bedroom. You two turned to look at one another, and you felt a blush on your face...

"Well? What are we waiting for?" Shiver cupped your cheek, giving you a kiss on the forehead, leaving a lipstick mark.

"Let's go get that candy."

You quickly nodded, and Shiver grabbed your hand, bolting out the door as well... it was time to get the most candy in all of the Splatlands!

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

TA DAH!!! FINALLY GOT IT DONE! SORRY FOR THE WAIT, ZOMBIE ANON! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Hi. I just read about 'writing agatha' by trickofthelights and I must say that everything she wrote were true and valid. Upon reading it, I've also realized why I love all your fics. The way you write Agatha - it has this level of accuracy - but what I love about it is that you are staying true to Agatha as a character but I can still see your soul in your writing.

And also the comedy - haha I cannot count how many times I have laughed uncontrollably because of Agatha's remarks lol. Especially her comments on Dottie and Wanda in Chaconne? That is a comedy treat. I love it so much.

You are a genius and I can feel that you really love what you are doing. Please never stop writing.

Ps. I am looking forward to the Lark updates. No pressure, though. I'm just here, sat and relaxed, a beer in my hand waiting for your updates . <3

Much love,

Reader

Helloooo and happy new year! <3

First, you have amazing taste. I'm a teensy bit biased, but my girlfriend is a genius and I think all of her thoughts are groundbreaking. But yes, I loved her post on writing Agatha! With that in mind, thank you so much for saying that oh my goodness. I do get nervous at times over how I portray Agatha, so this is so kind of you to say.

I think one of my many flaws as a writer (we alllll have them) is I tend to enjoy writing stories that are au's over writing canon. I think it's easier to take a character, keep their personality, traits, and all of the characteristics that we've seen in canon, and drop them into a different world. I don't know if that makes sense, it's just something I've found to be easier. I like having creative freedom to explore a different narrative and unravel different characters from what we typically see them in. But I personally can never read au's or even canon adjacent fics that change a character's personality. Just my opinion btw to anyone reading, no shade, no hate!

At her core Agatha is funny. She has this very unique dramatic flair, and as twisted and morally grey as she is, she's very very funny. I think that's why she works well (in my opinion) as a conductor. A lot of her one liners were inspired by remarks I've heard conductors say during rehearsals. I personally have so much fun writing those scenes, as well as her interactions with other characters, so I'm genuinely so thrilled you find them to be funny. I'll be typing and giggling to myself but I never know if others find them to be as amusing haha.

This is just so kind and I'm awful at accepting compliments, but truly thank you so much for saying that. I think writing has helped me through a lot of challenges over the past few years, and I'm trying to get back to the place where I can allow myself to enjoy it, so I really appreciate you saying that <3

My main focus right now is Lark! I'll be finishing all of my fics sooner rather than later (hopefully), I'm pretty determined to. I also feel so guilty for how long it takes me to update, but I appreciate both your patience and your kindness for sending this in. Getting to read it was a great way to start the new year!

I hope you're well, thank you so much for the ask <3

[pocket-lin]

Hey!! 💕 for the fandom ask game, 5, 9 and 20? 🤩

hi!!! thank you for sending me this ask!! once again apologizing if the format for this is all janky, assume I have no clue what I'm doing 80-90% of the time!! also I found out so many of these writer's have tumblrs that I wasn't following so that was exciting!!

please note: this is all about the harry potter fandom so if you don't follow me for that, please look at my pinned post!! tldr is fuck jk and fuck terfs, I won't let her steal our joy!!

5. something I see a lot in fics and love

hmmmm... this is hard to narrow down!! so here's a few things I've been enjoying in hp fics I've read lately!

harry potter who is just so fucking earnestly in love. like, he's tripping over his feet so he can hold the door open for draco and looking at him with big heart eyes from across the pub. harry's got draco's order memorized from that takeout place he loves and he's been pining for draco for years in such an embarrassing way and all his friends are rolling their eyes and placing bets on when harry will finally make a fucking move.

adult ron weasley taking after his mother!! he makes delicious food and makes people scarves and shows his love through his actions!!

draco being absolutely rocked when he finds out that harry is queer! especially when harry is confident and completely unashamed of his sexuality. also throat goat harry

magic being tangible in some way!! like, a strong spell giving off the smell of ozone, being able to feel it in someone's hands, everyone's magic having a unique vibe.

harry as the ultimate dad. like, that dude 100% has so many complicated feelings about family and his kid(s) would be everything to him.

9. a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

I've been dipping into alllll kinds of ships lately. I love to just go look at individual ship tags on a03 and read the stuff with the highest kudos and then some of the most recent fics. I think you gotta do both to understand the ship!! here's some I've been vibing with lately (also realizing how many of these are drarry+someone else hahaha)

harry/draco is my otp BUT harry/ron and harry/ron/hermione are tied for second. that's harry's family!! they were his first friends and the first people to show him love and they literally went through war together. they know each other!! two favorite harry/ron fics of mine are Sun Kissed by @static-abyss and A tangled mess by @orange-peony! two harry/ron/hermione favorites are nineteen years later by wendydarlings and try to fix you by @maesterchill!

snarry - I was sooooo not into this in my early fandom days because so much of the ship stuff I saw was underage teacher/student stuff and that's very much not my thing. the first dip into this ship was actually through @writcraft's harry/draco/severus fic, A Life Worth Remembering, which is almost a complete subversion: Severus gets de-aged to 25 through a potions accident and has to stay with draco and harry, who are middle-aged and in an established relationship. its a gigantic change for everyone involved and the way their all find their way to each other is sooooooo good. from there I read all their snarry stuff. one of their other snarry fics I love is How We Were Warriors. I've actually been back into this ship the past few weeks and have loved On the Deficiencies of Translation Spells and old fires and phantom limbs by @liladiurne, as well as A Turn of the Page and Severus’s Story (or, A Hero’s Tale) by avioleta!

neville/harry and harry/draco/neville - I think about @kittycargo's Love to Give soooooo often. also absolutely love When it Returns by @academicdisasterfic and Touch Your Lips Just So I Know by @saxamophone!!

harry/draco/charlie - everyone go read Licurici by @lou-isfake and tell me you aren't a changed man!!!

ron/draco/harry. I can't even begin to talk about this one because we'd be here for a million years!!

20. your very first fandom!

I started doing irl fandom things for harry potter with my mom and sister when I was a little baby (I learned to read with the harry potter books!!) but my first solo (and almost exclusively online) fandom was the the teen titans!! I was obsessed with the marv wolfman and george perez comics from the 80s and completely lost my shit when they announced the teen titans animated series. that show cancellation still hurts 😭

[haunted-plush]

LAST QUESTION I PROMISE if the answer to the previous ask is no then you're comfortable maybe I could ask if you got more nsfw headcanons of Matqueen? 👉🏻👈🏻 if you don't want to answer that here it's ok I'll understand, again the fic is great love it 10/10

Oooooo yesyesyesyes for SURE. I think about this a LOT because I'm a frisky little kitty lmao

Lightning: before he realized he's gay and while he's still living in the spotlight and dealing with substance abuse and depression, he went through women like used tissues. He had a new girlfriend every other week, and he pretty much treated sex with them like any other vice he used to escape from his own thoughts. It was never really fulfilling, and was never the kind of guy to look at their faces or groan out their names. Once it was over he was usually annoyed if they decided to stick around his house, but not enough to say anything.

After he spent the night with Mater [and his dick] he thought "yeah okay maybe I was doing it wrong" and honestly after that point he started to feel fulfilled by sex and find joy in it, exploring his kinks and preferences. He figured out from the very first time he had sex with Mater that he realllly liked being told he was doing a good job.

Yeah he's a praise kink haver for SURE. Tell him he's a good boy or anything along those lines and he's putty in your hands. He also learns that he gets a thrill from doing risqué activities in public, and having sex in semi public places, like when he grabbed Mater's hand while they were in the mall and rushed him to one of the stall bathrooms to suck his dick.

There's a weird state of mind he goes into sometimes where he like... gets stupid [there's a name for it but I don't remember what it is] when he gets horny and it's hard for him to form sentences and such, which for sure doesn't happen all the time but it definitely happens a lot [one time he was cockwarming Mater while they sat on the couch playing video games and his brain was MUSH and he kept losing lmao]

He's a sub for sure, [although not the subbiest sub to ever sub] but he doesn't always have to bottom. They like to mix it up with the positions and who's doing what. Anyway I've rambled enough about Lightning so now it's time for:

Mater: definitely charmed by Lightning's pretty boy nature and attitude from the start, and he was exited when Lightning went in for the kiss but confused when he ran away. He knew it was Lightning's first time bottoming so he tried to be gentle that night, which he was pretty good at all things considered. He would've been fine with being Lightning's one night stand just there to try out gay sex, but he was thrilled when it turned out he *did* want to keep being with him [hooray!!]

He gets flustered when Lightning flirts with him, Lightning will throw out a line at him and he has absolutely no idea what to say, going red and maybe pulling his hat down and shuffling his boot [it's adorable]. But when they're alone together he's *very* good at initiating, they'll be watching a movie together on the couch and he just puts a hand on Lightning’s thigh, and it's alllll over from that point lmao

They both get... *antsy* when they go a long time without seeing each other, which kind of happens a lot, and one time Mater didn't even know how badly he wanted to see him until they met up again after maybe a few months, they were at some kind of event so he still had to wait a little while, but the second he could he dragged McQueen’s ass to his truck and they got busy right there in the backseat.

Another way they like to try and bridge the distance between them when Lightning is away is for Lightning to call him on the phone, and usually the later and night the more horny the reason for calling lmao. Mater will talk to him and hear the cute sounds he makes as he listens to him getting off on his voice. He likes to picture him in his mind during those calls and likes how easily he can get him off without even being there

He doesn't ever call him, since he doesn't like to be a bother, but sometimes he goes through his phone for pictures of him. Most of the time he prefers physical photos, which he makes sure get taken while Lightning visits or when he visits him

Somehow they figured out that he's got a thing for being kidnapped, so there's that. Every once in a while they'll do the old tie-him-up-threaten-him-with-a-knife-ride-his-dick roleplay. It tends to be on the non-con side but they have safewords and make sure they're both all good afterward.

Speaking of, Mater is the KING of aftercare. This man will clean you up, offer you his clothes, his shower, anything you need, then spoon with you to your heart's content as you fall asleep. He will also cook you a delicious ass breakfast when you wake up... he's so loving and nice oh my god

Anyway I could go on and on but I've been yapping long enough... hope you liked the headcanons anon!!! X3

[carsonian]

Cap-IM Rec Week: Wonderous Wednesday

@cap-ironman, happy Wednesday:

"do you fondue?" by calciseptine (@calciseptinefic)

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

The layers to this... the layers... it's a stack of pancakes. I know you thought I was gonna say onion but NO. Pancakes. Delicious, fluffy pancakes. Just like in the fic!

"front row seats" series by Annie D (scaramouche) (@no-gorms)

A Steve/Tony series that follows one of the branching timelines set up by Avengers: Endgame.

This is the ADCU: Annie D Cinematic Universe, and buddy? It's everything you could ever want. Shenanigans are shenaning. Reader experience is RAW serotonin shots over knowing who interloper "Grant" is. So much rubbing hands together all villainous and going "ha ha ha" at the antics. Annie D made sure the whole circus came together for this one, and boy oh boy is it a hoot!

"such a devotion of the heart" by drunkonwriting (@queenerdloser)

Persuasion AU. Tony is a disillusioned heir on the outs with his wealthy, spend-thrift father, trying to finish his master's degree so he can work on engineering instead of joining the House of Lords. When he has to return home to prepare his family house to be rented, he doesn’t expect the new tenants to be Bucky Barnes and his new wife - old friends of Tony’s spurned ex-fiancé, Captain Steve Rogers. Tony, still heart-broken over their falling out, has no intention of meeting Captain Rogers again if he can help it. Captain Rogers has other plans.

WIP and an AWESOMELY written WIP. The worldbuilding is rich and chunky and filled with delicious little nuggets. Every character slots into perfect place. Alllll the Persuasian AUs please and thank you.

"we pick ourselves undone" by laramara (@commandersteverogers)

It might appear that award-winning surgeon Tony Stark, the head of neurosurgery at Shield Hospital, well and truly has his life together. Now if he could only figure out how to tell people that his father, world class neurosurgeon Howard Stark, is locked away in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, devise a way to get Chief Fury off his back for good, and work out what the hell he’s going to do about the weird on-again-off-again thing he has going with the head of cardio, he’d finally have everything sorted.

I've recced this before so I won't go into it too much here but rest assured it's a BANGING good time.

"You Gave Me A Home" by Moonrose001

Since Registration passed on and Sentinels started guarding the streets instead of superheroes, the USA has come to resemble Dystopia more than an united country. A young group of masked teenagers are fighting back the undemocratic and unconstitutional ways, lead by Captain America. And Steve Rogers is a handsome, but awkward student leading a double life. He is also head and heels in love with Tony Stark, the son of the government's arms dealer.

I read this soooo long ago, before I got into Steve/Tony, and I couldn't locate it for the longest motherfucking time! So happy to have found it again and to be able to recommend it because boy oh boy is this a ride, and golly gee, if the view at the peak ain't the best one you ever seen! This is the apex of what fanfiction can be--someone with genuinely fascinating ideas taking the best of one universe and implanting it into a new one. I thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed this.

"Ad Astra per Aspera" by MonstrousRegiment and Pangea

It’s safe to say most people get off on the wrong foot with Tony Stark, but it’s also safe to say Steve Rogers makes a conscious effort to get along with everyone, and people might think one tendency compensates the other one and equilibrium is achieved. A neutral ground. That’s not what happens. Or, the story of how Tony Stark and Steve Rogers met and fell in love. A space opera with a lot of cursing, a lot of drinking, and a little bit of singing.

SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE! What more needs to be said? Yeah, that's what I thought.

And that's all the wonder I got this Wednesday!

Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

[astridthevalkyrie]

major spoilers for crossroads!!!

the part of me that hates happiness really needs to know how levi was after we died. like what were his thoughts. we got fucking married the night before and specifically never told him “i love you” because he requested to say it first. he was ready to drop his dreams at a dime for us. he finally, finally decided that-fuck it- life’s too short not to show how much he cares. and it turns out that our life was much shorter than he thought. if he decided to stay with us and fight instead of going after zeke like erwin requested we would still be alive. not only that, he got away in the end. he probably knew we were dead on that field before he came back out for us. did he wait cause he was scared? if he did do you think he feels guilty like it’s his fault?

and my biggest question yet; how could you write this as the ending? don’t get me wrong, it’s probably the best ending you could’ve done BY FAR. it’s so sad yet so realistic for that world. we didn’t think we’d make it till the end right? i’m more of talking about the writing itself. cause i don’t think i could go without the happy ending.

and now that i think about it what a place to end it. we didn’t see the ocean, we didn’t make up with our mother, we didn’t get to know the truth of the world, to see the world. and we just got to a place where we were happy with ourself. you ma’am, are a creative genius. i started reading this series like 2 years ago when you were still updating it consistently. stopped reading cause i wanted to watch it beforehand so i could have context. never actually watched aot until about a week ago. remembered your fic, started to read it. and now i’m a sobbing mess who has been pacing around in my room all night like a lunatic pondering the heartbreak of a pretty anime man cause i want someone to grieve for me as much as i’m sure he does in your story. hands down one of th best fics i’ve ever read. thank you for making it

thank you for the spoiler warning! even though it's been out for a while i really appreciate it just in case someone's on my page for the first time <33

levi is a mess. obviously the final chapter will be alllll about him going through the motions as plot things keep happening. it's like, everything you said. he realized life was too short, but he still never heard the magic three words from her, and he never said them to her either. and hahahahahahahaaaaa yes, in the end, her death in hindsight could very much have been avoided if he'd stayed and fought with her, with little to no difference in outcome since zeke got away in the end. he might have even had some support during the serum debacle. who would reader want the injection to go to, i wonder?

as for why he waited, yeah—he very much knew she was dead. she was up against 25 titans and on her last set of swords. he left her knowing she was gonna die, and pretty quickly at that. what's funny is that...if she didn't engage and just kinda stood there, the titans wouldn't have gone for her. zeke's order to the titans is "rip him to pieces!" they were only after levi, none of them even try to eat her, more like just bat her out of the way. of course if she hadn't fought them, levi would have way more to deal with and would either have died or at the very least been overwhelmed enough that catching up to zeke would be impossible.

levi doesn't regret his choices. that's what erwin taught him. but how long can that last when even erwin isn't there to remind him of it? he's guilty. he's beyond guilty. but what he regrets isn't the final moments, after all, those were her choices. it might be those sneaky confessions he never verbalized that he's more agonized over.

reader's story is.....completely cut short. she doesn't see her mom or millie again, doesn't get to tell levi she loves him, doesn't get to see the outside world or even find out about it. she never even finds out why annie did what she did! and i'm really, really glad you think it's a good ending to the story despite all that. (of course, we're not done yet, but reader's journey definitely ends here.)

it wasn't always 100% the plan. when i posted the original Superior oneshot, i had a backstory forming in my head, and then a loose canonverse plotline. i'd love to say that there was a story i wanted to tell that everything was built around, but honestly all my favorite moments just appeared in my head, and the story formed around them. if someone is curious i can delve into alternate endings i thought of, at least one of them is pretty wild LMAO. but by the time i started summer rain her death was sealed since i had to start setting it up.

the FACT. that you read my silly little story before watching aot. means the whole WORLD to me. rest assured the pretty anime man loves you in that story and every other one. thank you sosososo much, i hope you liked watching the show too! thank you so much for the kind words <3

[castlebyersafterdark]

hi, do you have an opinion on the fic A Cruel summer w you? its always one i think of in regards to 'how explicit is byler fic realistically' cos the world building and description of both emotion and physical desire are very detailed, but they never go beyond kissing and everything about the set up (summer camp away from prying eyes, age 19 byler) suggests these boys would be going beyond kissing, but the story never goes there and the tags even say 'friends with benefits - the benefits are just kissing, shut up' or something, which speaks to me of self-censorship based on audience responses rather than doing service to this story. maybe themes of shame will come up later and i really hope they do, but for now it certainly reads as self-censorship which is such a shame as these authors, let loose, could be wonderful. perhaps theres a nsfw version they keep private, but i found it interesting they chose such elaborate details and these ages for the characters and expect people to believe they would stop at kissing... it's either a reflection of feminine emotionality (lets face it, byler in fics are often, psychologically, girls who are called mike and will) or it's a microcosm for whats happening in media at large which is lots of PG films and this huge lack of sexuality and sensuality in order to draw in as big an audience as possible (you mentioned being a former marvel fan, maybe this relates to that?)

Prefacing this one to say - nothing is a personal critique to follow here! Personal taste and a read on greater fandom in general!

So, I've skimmed it. I've checked out most of the 'big fics' in the fandom. Envious over authors who can craft long fics. Wish I could, but it's never gone well outside of original writing for me, so I'll leave it to the people who expertly weave these hyper detailed long form fanfictions.

This fic in particular looks so lovingly crafted and intricate in it's worldbuilding which is cool - it's just not for me. I'm picky with the setting for these characters and I do prefer stuff either 'ambiguous' in time period or accurate to the era (80s/90s), unless it's pure AU not based in reality (like a fantasy or dnd au). I like that the show is from a certain era so modern stuff just doesn't do it for me. I also am not a fan of rivals/enemies to whatever for them. I'll read one where they meet differently than as kids, but I'm just not fond of the trope with them otherwise. Which is fine! A lot of people like it and I'm sure a lot write it well! Just my personal taste for Byler.

So, I don't know too much about the fic in great length, as I've skipped around just to see the vibes, see where it went, etc. And here's my thing: no one HAS to write sex scenes/smut/spicy fics/whatever you want to label it. That's ok. It's the total lack of acknowledgement sometimes that gets me confused, like what do we think a real relationship is for Mike and Will? Why does it have to be as chaste as I see everywhere? Topic's been talked to death, but again, it's probably tied in to all the points you've made. Nineteen year olds at a summer camp are probably sneaking around and going further than making out. So. Ehhh. Is it dedication to the craft and with the writing style being so detailed, a fade to black or simple allusion to something beyond PG would feel out of place to not then go into detail, because of disinterest in writing a sex scene? Self-censorship due to the fandom's pressures of judgement? Unsure, and you can write what you want, of course. This is just one of the only fandoms where I've seen the defenses raised alllll the tiiiime where you need to overly reassure that you weren't thinking about or implying sex. Which I think is a disservice more often than not when you're exploring any sort of queer romance. Why do we have to be so sanitized?

Don't even get me started on Marvel, we're currently going through a messy and bitter divorce. But this is a good article I've bookmarked because the title is a great toss-out line when talking about the state of today's media: Everyone is Beautiful and No One is Horny . Not exactly what we're talking about, but I wanted to reference the title and the article is just an interesting read or re-read.

[bakedbakermom]

sorry theres so many but i genuinely want tko know alllll your answers and it was too hard to pick! so for the ask game: 5, 18, 19, 40, 46, 58, 66, 85, 91 💜💙🩵

hoo-boy, wifey, this is quite a list! from this list.

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

this is actually not something i do. i find music really distracting most of the time when i'm trying to write, and crafting playlists (or mixed tapes, as we used to call them) is something i haven't done in a long time. maybe someday.

18. what is your most and least favorite part of writing?

my favorite part is when the rest of the world falls away and it's just and my characters, and i can type with my eyes closed because i am so deep in whatever is unfolding inside my head. least favorite is every moment that isn't happening lol.

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

i read anything and everything. i am a book magpie. unfortunately this makes it REALLY hard to pick any individual author or work as an influence. it's like i've woven into my soul everything i've ever read and it just comes out wherever it wants. i will say that i love transcendentalist poetry and that sort of synesthesia of imagery tends to work its way into everything.

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

i posted "Enough" last year after more than 20 years away from fic. a few weeks ago i got a comment from someone (👀) saying they had come back and read it again and again over the course of the year. that one has stuck with me and i am seriously considering printing it out and putting it in my wallet.

also when i'm writing horrible angst and people are like "OMFG I HATE YOU THIS HURT SO MUCH. i love it, please hurt me again."

46. what time are you the most productive when it comes to writing?

afternoons. tummy full of lunch, caffeine at full effect, duties and responsibilities of the morning taken care of so my mind is free to wander and bloom. i also do most of my brain storming at night while reading in bed, like half my mind is occupied by the story i'm reading and the other half is picking through the brambles of whatever i'm trying to write. (i'm also usually a little stoned at this time, which helps.)

58. what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it?

whether a particular sex toy my characters were using actually existed. (it does not. i am sad.)

66. when have you felt the most confident in your writing?

absolutely never lol. i am a jumble of self-doubt and nerves at all times. which is why feedback is so damn important. nothing combats imposter syndrome like a friend taking your face in their hands and gazing into your eyes and saying, "you done good." i don't necessarily believe it, but it's nice to hear anyway.

85. what would be on a moodboard for your current wip(s)?

porn. artsy, black and white, slow and smokey PORN.

91. how has your writing style changed over the years?

i like to think i've gotten better at censoring myself less, become less afraid of really diving into the dark. i basically write smut and angst, both of which take me to places i used to be super uncomfortable exploring. sex and intense emotions? oh dear, no, i'm too irish-catholic for that. it's actually been really good for me to let go and truly understand that i can go to these places and bring back something worthwhile, without getting lost forever.