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#i loved writing this chapter
bardigrade · 5 months
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darling, our love is a tragedy (can i make you happy)
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Ch 5. why can't we
Fic Summary:
Perhaps in some other universe, Shadowheart has killed her. Perhaps in some other universe, she has killed Shadowheart. Perhaps there are thousands of possibilities for thousands of universes, but Lae'zel lives in this one — one where she and Shadowheart are destined to hurt each other. Do you think there's a universe where I make her happy?
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51790540/chapters/131171875
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sweetlilbird · 1 year
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It's back, baby!!! Chapter 21 of Where The Daffodils Grow is now posted! Enjoy!!
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thegeekyartist · 2 years
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Chapter 4 is up! It's time for the Dear Friends to meet!
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bababaka · 8 months
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Yall need to interact with fanfiction author's more.
So. After the ddos attack on ao3.
I was encouraged to write more comments and make my love known to fanfic writers.
I dont really like commenting. Because im a bit shy and soooo lazy.
Now though. I am writing more comments. And dude. This is so heartwarming. Ya'll need to treat writers better. They are doing the lord's work.
Take for an example, couple of days prior, i was searching for something interesting to read, and found an oneshot quite compelling.
I read it. At the end of it, i was blown away by how good it was. It promised me something and it went beyond my expectations. But then i saw a crime, zero fucking comments!
At that moment, i wasn't feeling up to writing a comment. Because, normally i like to write huge paragraphs. But because im lazy i decided to be brief.
Next day, the author answered that the comment lift their mood for the whole day.
That warmed my heart.
Duuuuuuuude! Write comments! Suport the writers of the fics you like! No need to be something super elaborate. Just give your thoughts. Freak out. Ramble. Ask something. Make theories. Compliment. Make a joke about how you wished to give kudos every chapter but ao3 sucks(not true bby) and won't let you.
Truly. Just. Comment. It can make someone's day. And that is part of the apeal of writing fics. Interacting with people.
Just give love to fanfic writers yall. They deserve this and so much more.
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hajihiko · 1 month
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Nice night 🌘
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geezmarty · 6 days
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I'be been watching a danganronpa 2 LP as I work I'm on the final chapter and I'd like to state I'd die for them
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solarmorrigan · 4 months
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Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.
After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.
‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.
“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.
“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.
“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.
“He was not,” Eddie confirms.
“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.
“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.
Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”
Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”
“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.
“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”
There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.
“You two have a fight?”
“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.
“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.
Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”
There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.
“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.
Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.
“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.
Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”
Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”
“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”
“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”
“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.
“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.
“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”
Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”
The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.
“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.
“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”
“Eddie…”
“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”
Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.
“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.
“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”
He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.
“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.
“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.
“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.
“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.
“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.
“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”
Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”
“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.
“Think so?” Eddie asks.
“Mm.”
“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”
Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.
Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.
-
It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.
It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.
In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.
“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.
“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.
“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.
It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.
“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.
Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.
“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.
“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”
“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”
In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.
“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.
Steve sighs. “Eddie…”
“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.
“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”
“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.
It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.
“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”
Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”
“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”
“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.
“Steve–”
“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”
“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”
“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.
“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.
“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.
Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”
Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.
It hurts, but it’s fair.
“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.
Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.
“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”
“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.
“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”
That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”
“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”
“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”
It’s better than an outright ‘no.’
“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”
(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)
Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”
“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”
Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.
“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.
He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.
But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.
If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.
Part 5
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Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e
I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!
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anna-scribbles · 9 months
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what a shame, i can see it all now that we’re through
- firearm by lizzy mcalpine
(chapter 5 of call it even is making me feel bonkers insane. thank u @sha-nwa)
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lovingapparition · 9 months
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Ghost's Love Language.
Physical Touch
SLIGHTLY NSFW | MINORS DNI 🔞
At first he's so hesitant about touching you because he's not sure if you'll like it. He wants you to be comfortable with him.
It starts with a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leans around you to reach for things, or a soft brush of your hands as he passes by; not even looking at you when he does it.
At first you think you're just imagining things sometimes.
Overtime though, he gets bolder. His hands lingering; occasionally sliding up your arms, maybe a touch or two to the neck.
(He loves touching your neck, loves how it fits perfectly in his hands.)
When you hug it's like being enveloped by him entirely, the entire line of his body against yours. His arms are basically a cage, his mask pulled up so he can breathe you in.
He likes slipping a thigh between yours, likes the power it gives him when you can only hold yourself up on him.
When he's at his most comfortable and boldest, he'll grip your hips, slides his hands roughly over you, almost bruising you sometimes; he kisses the marks when he does.
When you're in bed together he can't not be touching you, and you're almost always his little spoon. He'll run his fingers over the dip in your waist when he thinks you're asleep. He'll bury his face in the nape of your neck.
In summary bro needs a hug
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ohno-the-sun · 3 months
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Yippee newest chapter of Under the Surface is done! I hope you all will enjoy this one
Art is scene in the fic lol
Also I made a playlist for it check it out if you like
Has vibes, character arcs and spoilers so fun
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lucky-fy · 11 days
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For the Laicion nation (aka, me and three other people)
I had this illustration commissioned (a big thank you to @lunehowls) for my werewolf AU Laicion fic (still a WIP).
The general pitch is as follows :
AU in which Laios never got to meet his sister again, putting his life on a whole other path, a more desperate one. A military deserter with barely a coin to his name, Laios hitches a ride on a boat to one of the elven continents, where he learns about magical tattoos that binds one’s soul to a wolf’s, effectively making them artificial werewolves. Illegal magic be damned, this feels like the answer to… everything.
In the process, he learns about the existence of an illegal fighting ring in one of the elven cities, where beastmen gladiators gather. Freshly tattooed and without anywhere else to go to, Laios decides to head there, where he meets Lycion, an elf and artificial werewolf gladiator. If they first bond over a simple shared meal, by spending time together (sharing the same room in the barracks, maybe the same bed? gasp) they find that they have a lot in common, notably a shared distaste for the body they were born in, a dysphoria partially remedied by becoming a werewolf.
They bond :)
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llolianarchives · 7 months
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The Prefect and The Draconia
A short overview of the Ramshackle prefect and their strange (but kind) horned fellow friend: as seen through the eyes of outsiders.
(A/N: #Malleyuu notes with an OC but feel free to project. We're all delulu here ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭ )
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His Henchman is crazy.
Or at least, that's what Grim thinks when he's woken up at sunrise to Yue's bizarre ramblings. Something about the time being 1 AM, then fireflies at night, and a tall, horned figure – is what he takes from their babble amidst his own groans and pleas to return to sleep. He'd think them delirious from slumber, mumbling about another dream, if it weren't for the way Yue's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. Grim yields, in the end, for one of the many things he's learned about his reliable servant is that they can be awfully enthusiastic when it comes to this world's curiosities.
“He told me to call him whatever I want,” Yue continues, ruffling Grim's fur dry with a clean rag. Before he could insert magnificent ideas of his own, they beat him to it with a soft smile on their lips.
“I'm thinking of naming him Nyx: the personification of the night. What do you think?”
“What? Because he only shows up at night?” Like some wacky cryptid.
“Yup.”
He hears his henchman forgo the brush, letting it clatter loudly against the table.
“Hm... Nyx, huh...” Grim falls into thought, testing the name on his tongue like premium quality tuna. He doesn't even notice how Yue ties the striped ribbon around his neck. Triumphant, he turns to them with a grin.
“That's not half-bad, Henchman! It's cool and mysterious. Not as cool and mysterious as me, of course, but I'd say it's a close second!”
“Naturally. I wouldn't dare bestow a name mightier than the Great Grim's.”
Despite the stream of praise his henchman delivers (which he pleasantly basks in), Yue eventually derails, returning to speak of the horned man yet again. What Grim's superior brain gathers is this: One, this Nyx guy is super weird. Two, Yue's interest has been piqued like no other before.
He'll demand some omurice as payment for his counsel later on.
. . .
Malleus has made a friend.
The news was dropped onto Lilia's lap rather unceremoniously when one night, the Young Lord—having just returned from another evening excursion, went to sit with him in the Diasomnia lounge. This time, however, the quaintest of smiles adorned his face... It was an unusual sight but certainly not unwelcome. And much like any doting parent, his curiosity led him to ask.
Malleus had replied with a question of his own.
"Lilia, do you know of the Prefect that resides in Ramshackle Dorm?"
"Yue? Why yes, of course. I've spoken to them once or twice. They made quite a show during the Ceremony."
Yue— Lilia soon comes to learn— is completely unaware of Malleus's identity as a prince and a figure of authority, of power. As such, they bear no fear for him, even going so far as to bestow him a pet name, of all things.
(“Nyx? As in the night spirit? How fitting.")
Thus began the pattern of Lilia covering for Malleus's nighttime absence, not daring to ask nor scold when the prince would return in strange and stranger states.
When he would return to the dormitory partially caked with dirt and mud (a consequence of helping the prefect with their little garden of life.) Or when he would return with a box of homemade cake, a pretty stone from their walks, a drawing of him supposedly made by the prefect's beast, and with inquiries of the complexities of human nature.
Sometimes, Lilia can't help but feel a bit guilty, constantly boring witness to Silver and Sebek's searches into the night.
Yet that sliver of guilt fades, in the end, when Malleus smiles more often than before, when he approaches Lilia in the winter with the request of delivering a Holiday Card.
As he watches the magicless human rush into their abode, card in hand, ghosts and Grim awaiting their entrance...
he has never felt prouder and more grateful for fate.
. . .
From a distance, Vil watches.
He watches as the feared Briar Prince lets a small, feeble human talk his ear off, calm and unresisting, a hand on his chin as he ponders along Yue's barrage of words. He gives the prefect full reign of the conversation. He lets himself be taken away by their stories and details. He lets them speak, which they do.
Just after the horrors, highs, lows, and thrills of the VDC, the two chat as if nothing even happened. The onslaught of it all feels like a fever dream to Vil. First, the mental toll of overblotting, then their loss to RSA's nursery rhyme performance, and now the shocking reveal of Yue (innocent, bold, mundane little Yue) and Malleus Draconia's relationship.
He isn't even sure what to make of it. They're clearly friends, yet Vil can't bring himself to chalk it up to just that. His years and years of showbiz cinema has taught him the ins and outs of body language. He watches. He sees:
There's the smiles on both their faces; cheeks raised taut, dimples carved with genuine laughter. There's that glimmer in Yue's eyes and the odd tenderness of Malleus's own, both gazes locked onto one another with an undisturbed focus. There's the fact that Yue had given him an invitation to the VDC, or that Malleus had fixed the stage partially to show off to the magicless human, or that their hands are currently mere centimeters away from each other.
In the end, Vil averts his gaze, weariness crashing into him all at once and he feels a pair of hands grasp onto his shoulders, keeping him standing. Rook smiles, gentle, knowing, annoying. Vil resigns to his whims and lets his Huntsman guide him back to the Pomefiore Dorm, the chatter of Yue and Malleus and everyone else fading away.
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ohproserpine · 2 months
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Maybe draw Alastor and Dolly like this, would be rather fitting. Ps. love the series, I am absolutely OBSESSED!!!
OMG! DEFINITELY DOING THIS <333
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cappydoodle · 1 year
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rereading my own fic and yeah I'm a comedic genius I think
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flowercrowngods · 3 months
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Kas!Eddie where Steve uses positive reinforcement to help him feel like less of a monster. As Eddie becomes more human, the rewards get steamier. cw: explicit (ish??)
"Oh, baby," Steve coos, cradling Eddie's cheek and tilting up his chin to meet those beautiful eyes. Blown and black, the red glow beneath them pulsating in time with his heavy breathing.
This magnificent creature, more Kas than Eddie now, is strong enough to tear into the world and rip it to shreds. But always so docile for him. Always so lovely. Steve licks his lips as he trails his gaze down from wide eyes to plush lips, a trickle of blood drying on his pale skin that always seems to gleam in when Steve touches him like this. Tenderly. Lovingly. And with promise in his fingertips.
"You're no monster," he promises, daring him to disagree. He watches with fascination as a pointed tongue slowly, carefully licks up the remnants of Steve's blood. "No, you're no monster," Steve coos again, tilting Kas's face up higher to trail his lips along his jaw, kissing his way towards his chin and up the trail of wetness left behind.
Has whimpers, ducking his head just a fraction to chase Steve's lips and ask for a kiss, but Steve pulls back with a chuckle low in his throat, his grip on Kas shifting down to his throat as he moves in, hovering above him.
It shouldn't be possible, because his physical form has several inches on Steve, but something about him is always so small in Steve's hold. Like he's molding himself to Steve's figure to be so, so perfect for him.
He hums as he almost lets their lips touch, aware that he's driving Kas wild with it, and thrilled to have him like this. To hold him, hand around his throat, and tell him, "You're my good boy, hm? You're my good, good boy, isn't that right?"
Another whimper, and Kas shifts against him. Not to move in for a kiss, but to grind against him, rubbing his half hard cock into Steve's leg.
Steve chuckles again, a wave of fondness overcoming him as Kas takes what he wants. What he needs. Rubbing off against him were weeks and months ago, he would stand still until the shaking started, and Steve would have to bring him from the edge with gentle touch and loving words.
He trails one hand down to his ass to help him, to take control and give him a better angle. The effect is immediate as Kas lets out a guttural groan and pants, moaning around the syllables of his name.
"Yeah, you're doing so good, baby, taking what you need. You're so good. So good for me."
Kas nods, leaning their foreheads together as he loses himself in the delicate friction, and Steve finally relents. He ducks his head and claims those lips, moaning as Kas's sharp fangs catch his lip, drawing more blood and adding to the mess on their lips.
His resolve breaks when Kas's moans rise in pitch and frequency, knowing this is not enough for him. Knowing he wants to give him more. Steve reaches down, past the thin fabric of sweats Kas is wearing, and finds his magnificent cock, hard and leaking for him.
Always, always for him. They moan in unison as Steve begins stroking him, sucking on his tongue in time with the movement of his hands, rendering Kas almost motionless as he loses himself in the pleasure.
One day, Steve things, he'll have him writhing on his bed, hand fisted in his sheets, tearing them to shreds as Steve fucks into him with slow deliberation. Fucking the monster out of his memory and leaving only human remains, cock dumb and high on it. His name falling from those lips, blood-smeared and plump, the only thing these walls will hear aside from Good boy, and You're so good for me, and Fuck yourself on my cock, baby.
He'll take his time.
Soon.
Tonight, he doesn't get the luxury of taking his time as Kas grows desperate against him, coming with a keen as Steve bites down on his bottom lip and pulls.
"So good, baby," Steve pants as he strokes him through it, milking from him every last drop before bringing his hand up to those lips, kiss-swollen and blood red as they close around his fingers, gratefully licking up the come Steve feeds him.
That sight alone is almost enough for him to come in his pants, too, especially when Kas looks at him like that, pulling off his fingers with a slurping sound. Looking at him with hungry, hungry eyes that were made to destroy the world and rewrite history.
And yet all they do is give. And build. And smile, as he falls to his knees and pulls open Steve's belt, swallowing his cock to the hilt, massaging him with his fingers, his tongue, and vibrations that run through Steve's whole body until he, too, comes with a drawn-out groan.
He pulls Kas to his feet, combing his hair out of his sweat-slick forehead and having him meet his eyes with a gentler hold on his chin this time. "Say it."
Kas hesitates for just two seconds before a smile blooms on his face and he ducks his chin a little. "Good," he says. "I'm a good boy."
Steve hums around a smile himself, drawing a nonsensical pattern into the overheated skin of his cheek. "Whose?"
"Yours."
nonnie asked, i felt inspired. might turn this into a Thing.
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hella1975 · 2 months
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nothing to see here! (in the taob doc) (it's hell in here) (wtf was i chatting these notes are UNSALVAGABLE) (i want a detailed plot outline of ch44 done by the end of the day) (we are so back)
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