#it makes it better that the people who said this are father and son

[livingformintyoongi]

The Han Family | Min Yoongi

Summary: You and Yoongi were together during high school. He was only a year older than you, but that never mattered to you. You both fit in perfectly; you had the cheerfulness and positivity that Yoongi lacked, and he had the patience and seriousness that you lacked. You were together until Yoongi entered his second year of college, both of you decided to end on good terms. You never stopped loving him, and deep down you thought he hadn't completely forgotten you either. Despite keeping that deep love that you were sure you would never get over, you decided to go on with your life, seeing more people, having more casual loves, until the arrival of Jumyeon, the Han's eldest son, and the person who would end up signing your death sentence. It had been more than 10 years since you last saw Yoongi, and meeting him again because of your father-in-law's murder was definitely not the way you expected to see him again. wc: 2.9k

You were upset, no, probably upset would be putting it mildly, you were furious. You couldn't believe that your boyfriend, the one you wasted four fucking years of your life for, was cheating on you for over two years, and worse, with his best friend, that same girl he practically forced you to meet because he wanted his girlfriend and best friend to be close. At least his "friend" had the basic human decency to confess to you that she was messing with him for years. 

"I picked your favorite restaurant, I had a hard time making a reservation" Jumyeon said, smiling at you as cheerfully as possible. You almost grimaced, but you tried to control yourself, you were supposed to be a mature woman, for god's sake, you were almost 30, you should be able to have control over yourself.

"Thank you, that's a very nice gesture" you murmured, drinking all the wine in your glass. This didn't even make it into the top 10 of your favorite restaurants. You hated the way they cooked their meat, and you knew the owner in person (who was close friends with Jumyeon), it wasn't much better than their supposedly quality food.

You looked at the large window next to you. The only thing worthwhile about this place was the view of the Han River. It was a sight worth seeing.

"I already placed the order, so all we have left to do is wait" he pulled out his phone for a second, but put it away as quickly as he took it. You assumed she was his mistress, or should you say "friend"?

"Okay" you leaned forward, resting your head on your hands. You wanted to wait for the right moment to tell him, as gently as possible, to go fuck himself.

You listened to him ramble on about his job for what seemed like hours. You had never cared about his work, but at least you heard him, you had the basic respect for him that couples should have. Now that he had disrespected you in such a way, why listen to his complaints? You owed him nothing, no more.

"Oh, thanks for the food," your boyfriend said in a cheerful tone. 

Only then did you pay attention to what was in front of you. The waiter lifted the plate cover carefully, looking at both of you at the same time. He was probably a hopeless romantic.

Unlike him, you just felt nauseous enough to make you lean forward. This man seriously sucked.

"Y/N" he approached you, pulling a red velvet box out of his pocket. "These years by your side have been the happiest of my life" If he was so happy, why did he cheat on you? "I knew you would be the love of my life the moment I saw you", and that's why he was so eager for you to change to his liking instead of letting you be yourself, "and I couldn't have been more right, because, honestly, I can't see a future where you're not" he sank to one knee, bringing out a ring that looked way too ostentatious. You wanted to throw it in his face. "And I know deep down you feel the same way I do, so please do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world. Marry me."

You stared at him, clenching your fists so tightly that your palms were starting to hurt. You turned to look at the dessert the waiter had camouflaged with the plate cover. A big "Will you marry me?" was written in the center. 

And suddenly, your immature side came out. You could no longer contain your urge to punch this jerk.

"Marry you?" you muttered, taking the small cake with which he tried to propose to you. You smiled almost helplessly. "Did you seriously just ask me that?".

Jumyeon laughed, standing up from the floor and looking at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, I know you'll say yes, but I thought that-".

You didn't let him continue, you didn't want to keep hearing his voice, so you did the first thing that popped into your head. You threw the dessert in his face and scrubbed it until there was nothing left. And, my god, it felt so satisfying.

"How can you ask me that after spending the afternoon with your so-called friend?" you growled, leaving the plate of cake on the table. "Are you so unmanly that you need to play with two women at once!?".

You ignored the murmurs from the audience, you didn't want to draw their attention, but you were too upset to speak softly, and he was the one who decided to do this in a public place.

"What? Is your brain not capable of coming up with excuses in such a short time?" you swept him with your eyes, feeling disgusted. "Never mind, I have no interest in listening to your lies anymore anyway." 

You grabbed your purse and pulled out your wallet, throwing a few bills in his face, "So you can pay the bill." 

And you left, ignoring his screams and insults. 

And, for the first time in years, you felt free.

You smiled big as you approached the elevator, and when you came within shouting distance of excitement, a guy a little taller than you knocked you to the floor. 

You complained quietly, taking the hand he offered you, but not seeing his face. You were too happy to complain to him.

"Sorry, I didn't look where I was walking" you gave a little bow, ready to leave. Until you felt a hand stop on your wrist.

"Y/N?"

For the first time since you collided you noticed the man standing in front of you, and shit, how you wished you hadn't crossed paths with him just then.

"Yoongi" you muttered, feeling your throat dry. He looked even more beautiful than the last time you saw him. 

"You look... different" he said softly, letting go of your wrist, but not taking his gaze away from you.

"You too" you tried to smile, but you felt too uncomfortable to do so.You were embarrassed for Yoongi to see you like this. "You're back to black" you hastened to say, pointing to his hair. 

It looked much longer and shinier than the last time you saw it, and it fit him like a glove. If his intention was to make women like you want to tangle their fingers in it, he had more than succeeded.

"And you cut it" he moved his hand up to your mane. Your hair reached only a few inches below your chin, a far cry from the long, unruly style you had when you were still his girlfriend and you swore to him that you would never cut it because it was your most prized possession.

Now you feel even sillier.

"I wanted to try a new style" you nodded quickly, fiddling with the strap of your purse.You were back to feeling like a stupid teenager incapable of talking to the boy she likes. To a certain extent it was true. You were never able to get over Yoongi, you don't think you ever will at some point."But I didn't like it as much as I thought I would" you sighed, tightening the strap on your bag.

"You-?"

"Chaeyoung!" your now ex-boyfriend shouted as he ran in the direction of you and Yoongi. It didn't escape your notice that before he noticed Yoongi's presence, he was coming over annoyed enough to slap you. You saw his hand clenched tightly."What the hell was that ruckus earlier, do you know how many cameras were in the place, how many important people were there?".

"Well, maybe you should have thought your proposal through better" for a moment you completely forgot that it wasn't just the two of you in the hallway, but you didn't care.That son of a bitch deserved someone to put him in his place, and you wanted so badly to be that person yourself. "Or to have fucking zipped your pants when it belonged, or am I wrong? Because if so, say so to me and Minah for that matter, because she feels the same way I do too."

You watched as he fixed his gel-covered hair, turning away for a second to catch his breath."It was an accident, understand? It's not how she painted it."

"An accident over two years old? Can you explain to me how that works? Did you just happen to fall on her and coincidentally your penis went into her because you both happened to be unclothed in the same fucking hotel room?" you laughed listlessly, crossing your arms, "Don't you dare think I'm stupid enough to turn blind eyes to something that's been going on for years."

Yoongi, who had been silent until that moment, cleared his throat, moving forward to stand beside you. You took a breath, trying to maintain your composure in front of him. It was quite a difficult task.

"Are you Han Jumyeon by any chance?" he muttered in a monotone voice staring at your ex-boyfriend. It came to scare you a bit how cold his gaze seemed. Still you thought he was attractive.Very attractive.

"Yes" he looked at Yoongi from head to toe, he looked a little confused, but he was used to that kind of question. He was one of the most well-known businessmen in South Korea, he was in the news quite a bit, so it wasn't strange that he knew him. "Who are you?"

"Officer Min Yoongi" he pulled out his badge from his shirt pocket, "I am one of the people in charge of the investigation of Mr. Han's death, I need both you and your..." his gaze paused for a moment on you before turning back to Jumyeon, "ex-girlfriend come to the police station so I can question you."

"Did you say death?" you looked at Yoongi and then at Jumyeon, covering your mouth with your hand. You wished the worst for that... man, if that's what you could call him, but that didn't mean you wished his father had died in whatever circumstance. If Yoongi was involved in this, it meant it wasn't from natural causes. 

"What are you talking about? My father died? When? How?" he brought his hands to his hair, tugging on it lightly. "You said you were an officer, didn't you? So that means it wasn't an accident?"

You wondered internally if Yoongi saw the same twisted smile you saw.

You saw how he nodded slowly, his impassive gaze stopping on Jumyeon. He didn't seem to pity him, let alone empathize, in fact, if you still had your wonderfully useless abilities to understand Yoongi, he even seemed annoyed with him. Maybe he thought he was guilty? You would think so too after seeing the expression from earlier.

"As I told you before, I need to take you to the police station right now, we need to ask you a few questions regarding Mr. Han, I would appreciate it if you could cooperate as much as possible."

You nodded quickly, moving a little closer to Yoongi, "Did you come by car? Mine is in the parking lot."

"Don't worry, we'll go in mine," he murmured, barely brushing his fingers on your back, "go to the elevator first, I'll go next to Jumyeon."

You obeyed his command, walking to the elevator and waiting for it to reach your floor. You thundered your finger bones as you moved your left leg. You were still a bit in shock with the news, you were trying to think through your next move with Jumyeon, you didn't think things through very well before throwing the dessert in his face and shouting to the four winds that he was unfaithful to you with his best friend.

You turned to look at your ex-boyfriend, who stood next to Yoongi stiffly. He looked in your direction every so often, but averted his gaze immediately. Yoongi, on the other hand, kept his gaze fixed on you the entire time you were looking at them. It kept causing your stomach to churn and your heart to flip. 

The sound of the elevator forced you to look away from both men. To your surprise, no one was inside it, which, on the one hand, was wonderful, as you wouldn't have to put up with the strong smell of expensive perfume and conversations between strangers that sounded too empty. But, on the other hand, you had to be alone with those other two.

You shook your head, trying to get that stupid thought out of your head, and entered the elevator followed by Yoongi and Jumyeon. You convinced yourself that the tense atmosphere was due to the news Yoongi gave you, but deep down you knew it wasn't so. 

You knew your ex like the palm of your hand, you knew when he was genuinely sad and when he was not. You were aware that he wasn't feeling depressed at all, but he was angry, probably at you and whoever had attacked his father. You tried to avoid the idea of him being that way with you.

You brought your thumb to your mouth, biting your nail. Jumyeon's gaze on you was starting to feel too stinging and the fear started to grow as your head generated worst case scenarios. You had such a good imagination when it came to going against you.

The brush of fingers on your right hand made you jump in place. You turned to see who it was, and almost cried with happiness when you noticed it was only Yoongi. He discreetly caressed the knuckles of your hand, completely avoiding looking at you. 

You had forgotten how good it felt to have someone who could read your body language so easily that just by looking at you or listening to you, he would understand that you were having a hard time. Yoongi was the only person you dated who could accomplish that. Maybe that was one of the reasons why you still weren't able to forget him.

You stopped biting your nail, concentrating on Yoongi's touch on your skin. It brought back so many memories. 

"We'll talk at home about earlier" Jumyeon murmured, glancing sideways at you, "I think you're still a little confused."

"I'm not" you replied on impulse, staring at him, were you afraid? Obviously, was that going to stop you from telling him to his face? Of course not. "I gave you my answer, now act like a man for the first time in your life and accept it" you growled under your breath, holding back the urge you had to spit in his face.

You listened as Yoongi cleared his throat, and you knew he was doing it to camouflage his laughter. You didn't care, you would have done the same thing in his place.

"Stop fucking around and just say yes" Jumyeon turned to look at you, and if looks killed, you'd be on the floor, bleeding out, dying, you'd be a ghost. 

"Why don't you shut up? Your voice is annoying, it makes my head hurt" Yoongi muttered, this time taking your hand firmly. 

You internally prayed that Jumyeon wouldn't see it, you didn't want any more trouble than you already had.

The rest of the time in the elevator was in silence. Being so many floors it took you a few minutes to get down. They were the worst minutes of your life.

"We'll go in my car" Yoongi looked at Jumyeon before exiting the elevator. Holding hands with you. In front of him.

You saw out of the corner of your eye how his face distorted at the sight of your hands together. You reminded yourself that you didn't owe him any explanation. You had done nothing wrong, so why should you justify yourself? You nodded mentally, trying to encourage yourself.

Yoongi took out his key and unlocked his car. It was big and black, too shiny. You smiled as you remembered Yoongi always talked about how, when he had money, he would buy a nice apartment and a black car that looked so amazing that any teenager at his age would want one like that.

He let go of you for a moment only to open the passenger door and help you in. You screamed internally.

Jumyeon got in after you, to the back seats obviously, and before Yoongi got in and could hear him he came up to your ear.

"Wait till we get home, you fucking hypocritical bitch" he growled under his breath, returning to his seat as soon as Yoongi entered.

You looked down at your hands, staring at the nail you bit earlier. You didn't do anything wrong, you're not like him, you repeated yourself over and over, trying to ignore the pressure in your chest.

You leaned your head against the car window, watching as he started to move and head for the exit of the parking lot. You just closed your eyes, wanting to get to the station later to give your statement and get as far away from that man as possible.

You wiped away an unruly tear that dared to fall down your cheeks. He's not worth it, you told yourself, not anymore.

Masterlist

#TheHanFamily #bts x reader #bts x you #fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #bts imagine #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x oc #fiction #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x oc #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #bts fics #bts

[thelordofgifs]

the fairest stars: post vii

Yet more of the "Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils" AU! Masterpost with links to all previous parts on tumblr and AO3 here.

Part 35: on stories, and the ways they repeat themselves.

Finrod goes to Mandos' throne room, and kneels – such as it is – in supplication before the Vala.

"Son of Arafinwë," says Mandos. "Having turned down our boon, have you come to ask another?"

"Not for myself," says Finrod. "But for my cousin."

"Whatever vow you have made," says Mandos, "Turkafinwë Fëanárion is not ready to be released from my Halls, even were he willing."

"Not – not Celegorm," says Finrod, "but Amrod his brother. Has no judgement been passed on him? It is many centuries now since he burned to death at his father's hands."

"The judgement was passed," says Mandos, "when he swore his Oath, and bound himself to violence. No one compelled by such a force can be released into the peace of Aman."

"But he regretted it," Finrod argues. "He meant to turn back as my own father did, and beg pardon of the Valar. He would be free of it, if he could."

"But he is not," says Mandos, implacable.

Finrod is good, and pious, and faithful. Finrod is not going to lose his temper with a Vala.

"Is there no pity in these Halls?" he asks. "Is there no way to set him free of a bond he does not want?"

"Lúthien your cousin asked a similar thing when she came before me," Mandos says. "And I will tell you what I told her: it is beyond my power to undo an Oath sworn in the name of the All-father. The Valar are not gaolers, child. Telufinwë's chains were of his own making."

"It wasn't his fault," Finrod says tightly, "it was his father who bound him—"

"I cannot give you what you want," Mandos says, interrupting him.

"Then pass the boon you have given me onto him," Finrod says; "transfer it away from me, I do not want it. Grant him his release, he has lingered here long enough."

"That is not how it works," Mandos says. "You are free to leave these Halls whenever you desire. It is not my way to retract mercy once it has been offered."

Do you call this mercy? Finrod does not say. He takes his leave instead.

“You did not need to do that,” Amrod says, when he returns.

Finrod is in no mood for Fëanorian self-pity. “Do you want to rot here forever, then?” he asks sharply.

“So it was decreed,” Amrod says, “and I told you already that I never expected any mercy for myself.”

“Yet you would have me extend it to your brother,” Finrod says.

“That,” says Amrod, “is not precisely what I said.” He makes some spirit-approximation of a shrug. “You know Tyelko as he is now better than I do. Is he past saving? Perhaps. But it is for your own sake that you are trying anyway, I think.”

“But if even you are condemned to remain here forever—” Finrod says, unable to keep himself from bitterness.

“I’ve killed people, Ingoldo,” Amrod reminds him. “Three of them, in fact.” He shudders briefly. “Why me? Why Tyelko, for that matter? There are many worthier souls in these Halls to demand your attention. After the Dagor Bragollach the Exiles came pouring in here in their thousands, and every one of them lies under the Doom of Mandos – all except for you. You could be pleading for any one of them, instead of your Kinslaying cousins, who are anyway bound by a greater chain.”

“Because,” Finrod says, irritable, “chains can be broken. And I cannot bear to see you deny that, again and again – you as well as your brother! Forever need not always mean forever. There are brighter things in store for you, for all of us, than to mourn here for eternity in the dark. Valar help me, I did not fully realise it, until Lúthien showed me it was so – and yet—” He stops suddenly.

Amrod looks at him with sympathy. "It is not only us you are angry with," he says.

"I do not want to be angry at all," Finrod says wearily. "I want to find a way out, I want to believe that there is hope for all of us – for you and me and your brother and my Ten and those we lost on the Ice and all the doomed and damned and grieving Noldor – can it be so? Or is it always the same story over and over again, all of us trapped in our roles until the end of the time? The Ainulindalë had space in it for new themes, did it not? So why must we condemn ourselves over-hastily, name these chains unbreakable for ever?"

"Perhaps they are," says Amrod, "for the rest of us, if not for you."

"I do not believe that any more," says Finrod. "And I am going to speak to my brother."

Back in Middle-earth:

Finduilas and Celebrimbor have ridden swiftly, their journey uneventful. They are coming now to the borders of the Girdle of Melian.

Finduilas smiles at Celebrimbor, more bravely than she really feels. "This is where we part ways."

To her eyes the Girdle is clearly visible, a sharply demarcated shimmering in the air, whereas all Celebrimbor can make out is a blurred sort of wrongness, as though the world itself is bending around Doriath's border.

"It isn't too late to change your mind," Celebrimbor tells her. "We can go back to Nargothrond, we can tell your father we only got lost in the mists—"

"It has been too late for that for a long time," Finduilas says, decisive. She smiles again. "Don't fret, Tyelpë! The worst Thingol can do to me is speak harshly. I am not the one in danger."

"I will be fine," Celebrimbor tells her. "It is the northern stretch of the Girdle where danger lies thick." He thinks of the desperate flight from Himlad after the Dagor Bragollach, and shivers a little. "You had better not tell Thingol that I am here, not after what my – my father tried."

"You aren't your father, Tyelpë," Finduilas says softly. She leans over to kiss his cheek. "Take heart! With any luck my errand will not be a long one, and we will have an escort of Iathren marchwardens to take us home."

Celebrimbor thinks that is overly optimistic, but he only says, "I will be here when you return – and good luck, coz."

He watches as she rides away from him, through the Girdle and then into the darkness of whatever lies beyond it.

It is a perfectly nice clearing they have chosen for their meeting-place, and he spends some time the next day setting up camp; then he gets bored, and invents a better mechanism for collecting rainwater for drinking, and then makes himself a makeshift chemistry lab out of the weird plants growing near the Girdle; and then he carves every fallen stick in a mile's radius into a miniature wooden animal, and ends up with a host of Eagles and an army of bears and No Dogs At All; and then and then and then

He's really bored tbh.

In Barad Eithel:

One thing about Maglor is that he needs a Job or he will go a little mad.

He is like Maedhros in that, Fingon reflects, and tries not to indulge the stab of the thought.

Unfair, to blame unhappy Maglor for not being his brother, for not having Maedhros' smile and Maedhros' bright thoughtful eyes and Maedhros' commanding presence—

Anyway: usually this does not pose much of an issue, because Maglor has made Maedhros his Job and attends to him both capably and contentedly.

Now, on the other hand, he is restless, and when Maglor is restless he hovers.

Fingon does not mind this most of the time. He likes his cousin's company, despite everything, and also Maglor is a better and more sensible advisor than most would give him credit for.

But there is really not that much for him to do today, and he is maybe driving Fingon a little crazy.

"Makalaurë," he says, "you might go down to the armoury."

Maglor smiles drily at him. "Trying to get rid of me?"

"No," Fingon lies, "only it occurred to me that you are certainly the most skilled person here at testing the metal for minute flaws – the same way you use its resonance in swordplay. And it would be good to make sure everything is in good shape while Morgoth seems to be unwiling to attack again."

“You are trying to get rid of me,” says Maglor, not really offended.

An hour later finds him in the armoury, sorting swords that need mending from those whose metal sings cleanly; he is so absorbed in the work that he does not at first notice there is someone else in the room, until Maeglin comes to stand before him.

“I did not know you had any interest in metalwork,” Maeglin says, in lieu of any other greeting.

“Not particularly,” Maglor says mildly, “but my father was the greatest smith of the Noldor, even so.”

Maeglin’s expression seems to imply that he intends to change that.

Maglor decides he might as well try to be friendly. “We have spoken little since you came to Barad Eithel,” he says; “forgive me, I have been too absorbed in my own affairs to greet you with the courtesy due so close a kinsman. But I am glad to meet Írissë’s son at last.”

Maeglin says, “Were you close to my mother?”

“Not as much as my younger brothers,” Maglor admits, “but even so I thought her fearless, and kind, and never reluctant to speak her own mind.”

“She was different,” Maeglin says in a low voice, “when I knew her.”

Maybe it would be good to change the subject.

"How well do you like Barad Eithel?" Maglor asks. "You have made friends among the lords of the Noldor already, I am glad to see."

Maeglin is looking at him guardedly. "Everyone has been very kind," he says, his voice neutral. "Although my uncle has had less time for me than I hoped."

Maglor bites his lip. "He has much to trouble him at present, too," he says, as evenly as he can. "But you should know he speaks highly of you."

"I am glad to hear it," Maeglin says. He looks at Maglor in silence for a little while, and then says, "You are close in his counsel, I think."

Maglor is kind of regretting his decision to be friendly.

"We have been friends for a long time," is all he says.

"But not as close as he was to your brother," Maeglin says, watching Maglor very carefully as he speaks.

"You were on the field after the battle," Maglor says, trying to keep his patience. "I think you already know the answer to that."

"Forgive me," Maeglin says then, and flashes Maglor a quick rueful smile. "You are all names I have only ever heard in half-complete stories. There is a great deal I must learn. And nobody had ever told me that the High King was wed to his cousin."

"They are not wed," Maglor says automatically, Maedhros' customary rebuttal; then he wonders why he is still making Maedhros' arguments for him, still playing the lieutenant when the war is long since over, and the weight of his loss seizes him around the throat anew.

Belatedly he realises Maeglin is speaking. "Turgon my uncle was not happy to learn of it," he says. "But perhaps it does not matter so much now, since your brother is – well." He has the grace to look vaguely sympathetic, at least. "Some of the other lords are beginning to say that it would be wise for the King to take a wife, now that he is free of any other attachment. But that seems to me unkind."

"Unkind," Maglor asks, "or just contrary to your own hopes, which rather depend on his remaining unwed and heirless?" He raises an eyebrow.

Maeglin tenses. Maglor's eyes rest on him the way Idril's used to, as though seeing some ugly nub inside him, invisible to Maeglin himself.

Maeglin does not want to think about Idril.

"I have told them it would be cruel," he says, "to raise the matter to him while he has so many troubles."

"I see," Maglor says, and some of the pressure of his gaze relents. "Since they seem to listen to you, you might tell them that Fingon loves my brother, and is not so faithless as to waver in his affection now." He manages the flicker of a smile. "Or perhaps it would be wisest if you do not say that: they might like you less, then, after all."

"You are determined to mistrust me, I see," Maeglin says stiffly. "Strange, when half the court thinks you a spy for the Enemy, and your brother his puppet."

"Those accusations," Maglor says, "are older than you by many centuries, and have lost much of their sting. I am not a spy, and Fingon knows that. But you mistake me, Maeglin. I am not determined to mistrust you. I am only worried – for you, not just because of you." He looks directly at Maeglin again. "You are very lonely, I think."

Maeglin lifts his chin. "I am perfectly content," he says, his voice clipped, "and have very little need for your concern, thank you."

Maglor decides to take a risk. "You are not the only one," he says softly, "who knows what it is to drag the weight of a father's madness behind you. I too understand a little of that grief – it is a heavy thing, and solitary. But I am here if you wish to share some of the burden."

But Maeglin bristles. "What do you know of my burdens and my griefs?" he asks, scornful. "Spare me your pity, please. I do not need it – least of all from one cast so low as you. What now is the House of Fëanor but a set of traitors and invalids, clinging to glory they have long-since lost? In truth I think you envy me – envy that the High King trusts me, and gives me duties the likes of which you cannot imagine."

Maglor cannot stifle a laugh at this speech. "Yes," he says, "that must be it."

Maeglin glares at him and then storms out.

"At least you tried," Fingon says later, when Maglor relates the story.

(Some of it, at least. He does not think Fingon will take kindly to hearing about the speculation on his taking a wife; and Fingon is already rather too prone to lashing out at his lords at the moment.)

"You ought to spend more time with him," is all he says. "For your sake as much as his. He is rather too invested in who shall be named your heir, I think."

Fingon smiles drily. "Well, at least someone is looking to the matter of the succession," he says; and when Maglor gives him a Look, he throws his hands in the air and adds, "he's barely out of childhood, Makalaurë! Do you really think he's sneaking about plotting to poison me in my bed? My brother trusted him, clearly."

"Everyone trusted Curvo, too," Maglor mutters, "and look where that got us."

But when Fingon glances sharply at him he subsides. He does not have the appetite to argue with Fingon.

Fingon changes the subject. "I have not heard you speak so of your father before," he says quietly.

Maglor's ears twitch uncomfortably. "How unthinkingly we bound ourselves," he says, "gave up our freedom and our will and our innocence because he asked it of us – and how could we ever do otherwise? He was our father and we would have done anything for him." He draws a shaky breath.

Fingon has his own complicated feelings about his father, but he is simply Not Engaging With Them. "He has been dead a long time, Makalaurë," he says after a moment.

"I know!" Maglor says, bitterly. "I know: and we are still not free. I am tired of it."

Maedhros' name hovers in the air between them. Neither of them speaks it.

"You know my thoughts on your Oath," Fingon murmurs instead. "Chains can be broken, Makalaurë. Just because you have done evil before does not mean you are obliged to do it again." He gives Maglor a sympathetic look. "I am a Kinslayer too, you know."

"Did you tell Nelyo that?" Maglor asks, breaking their unspoken pact, and Fingon flinches.

[this is known as failing the Maedhros Bechdel Test]

After a moment, Maglor says, "I used to think – to hope, even – that maybe you were right, that Lúthien was right to tell me I need not lament forever. But here we are! Five hundred years have passed and the Oath still binds us tightly as ever it did, and he is gone, it has taken him from me once more – must it always be the same story over and over again? Shall I never be singing anything but the Noldolantë – must its themes echo through time for ever? I am tired, Finno."

"I know," says Fingon, "I know," and he puts his arms around Maglor, and Maglor leans shivering into the embrace, but it is not enough.

In Doriath:

Finduilas' entry into Menegroth has gone smoothly, and she is privately beginning to believe that Celebrimbor's fearmongering was just that.

Nobody has stopped her on recognising her (for she came here often, with her father, in the peaceful days of her youth before the Sudden Flame).

Nor does Thingol turn her away when she goes formally to her knees before him in his great throne room, and says, "I have come as an ambassador from Nargothrond, in the name of Orodreth my father."

"Little niece," says Thingol, with a flicker of humour at the corners of his mouth, "strange are the days when you whom I dandled on my knee not so many years ago now come to treat with me as a foreign king. But you will always be welcome in Menegroth, child."

Finduilas beams at him, and feels her confidence wax – until she hears footsteps behind her, which halt abruptly.

"What's this?" Lúthien asks sharply.

Finduilas spins around to face her.

Lúthien looks – good. Flourishing, even. Mortality suits her, adds some shimmering quality of transience to her loveliness, as if some light beyond the circles of this world is already shining through her skin.

A far cry from how she was when Finduilas last saw her, her face blotchy with tears, her nails ragged and torn – help me, cousin, please, let me out—

"Cousin," Finduilas says, summoning up a smile. "I am glad to see you again."

Lúthien ignores the greeting, looking past her to Thingol. "What is the meaning of this, Father?" she demands. "Why have you allowed her past the Girdle?"

Thingol looks troubled. He does not think he has ever seen Lúthien speak with such untempered anger. "The kin of Olwë my brother have always been welcome here, Lúthien," he says.

"Kin," Lúthien repeats. She looks at Finduilas now, her eyes hard. "That is one word for the way they treated me, certainly."

"I am sorry, cousin," Finduilas breathes. "I did not look to find you here, or else I would have come prepared with some gift of apology for you: but it is for that reason that I have come to plead Nargothrond's case with your father, because I am ashamed of how things happened, we are all ashamed – and my father has cast the sons of Fëanor out of the city—"

"I know that," says Lúthien, "they tried to kill me after he did so, you know."

Finduilas bites her lip. This is not going at all how she pictured it.

Lúthien makes a disgusted sound. "I can't do this," she says, and turns to her father again. "Either she leaves or I do," she says; "you know ultimatums are not my habit, Father, but I will not dwell under the same roof as she again."

She walks out.

Once she is gone Finduilas falls to her knees again. "Uncle," she says, "uncle, please. I have come for the sake of both our realms – please, give me another chance."

Thingol's eyes are colder now. "It is not my intention," he says, "to go against my daughter's wishes again."

"Let me make it right with her," Finduilas pleads, "she has every right to be angry, but I would see our old friendship renewed, if I can."

Thingol hesitates a moment, and Finduilas holds her breath. If he turns her away now, it will all have been in vain—

But at last he nods, and Finduilas is directed to Lúthien's favourite haunt, a clearing aboveground (for Lúthien above all other Elves cannot bear to be caged out of sight of the sky).

She stiffens when Finduilas comes across her. "Still here?"

"I know you are angry," Finduilas says, in a low voice, "and I have come to apologise. I should have protested harder when Celegorm sought to imprison you – I should have found some way to set you free – forgive me, cousin. It was not what I wanted: and I was not brave enough to speak against them."

Lúthien makes no indication that she accepts the apology. "Why have you come here, Finduilas?" she asks. "You were never the sort to pay much attention to politics."

Finduilas chews at her lip. "Nargothrond is weakened," she admits. "My father does his best, but after what the sons of Fëanor did – our unity is failing. Nor is he willing to ally with the High King in the north. I would not have us lose all the friends we once had."

"The friends you had," Lúthien says casually, "when Finrod was your King."

Finduilas does not want to agree, does not want to acknowledge that her father is not the king his brother was. But perhaps her silence is agreement enough.

"So you are here to win back Doriath's might," Lúthien muses, "afraid, perhaps, of the prospect of it mustered against you."

Finduilas feels hot with embarassment. "No – no, you mistake me, cousin," she says. "I want to make things right. Nargothrond grieves what was done to you."

"Nargothrond," Lúthien says, her voice now very sharp, "was complicit in it, every single one of you who were too afraid to do what you knew you be right, too cowed by the sons of Fëanor of all people – two cowards who were bested by Beren and a dog, a dog who had more courage in his heart than your whole rotten city put together—" She draws a furious breath.

Finduilas blinks back tears. "I am ashamed of it," she says unhappily.

"But you still do not think you are really to blame," Lúthien says. "Dear little Finduilas, o best-loved niece and least-noticed daughter, the last princess of the Noldor: who could ever fault you for anything? Why do you think my father allowed you to stay? He too holds you blameless in all Nargothrond's failings, naught but a pretty spectator." She looks coldly at Finduilas. "I do not. You should have done better. You should have helped me." She pauses, as if gathering her strength for the blow, and then adds, "Finrod would have lived, had you helped me."

Finduilas draws a breath.

"I was only hours too late for him," Lúthien says, very softly, her eyes distant. "Had I come sooner, he would have been saved." She shudders, and then looks at Finduilas again. "So do not speak to me now of Nargothrond's troubles. They are of their own making."

Finduilas' eyes are stinging again. "Tales are told of your friendship with the eldest sons of Fëanor," she says angrily, "and yet you will not spare so much as a sliver of pity for your own kin?"

Lúthien shrugs, undeterred by the barb. "Call it selfishness, perhaps," she says. "Darling little cousin, did you think to take me for your model, to come here and win my father's quarter with your smile, and carry home some great boon? Give it up. You are not me."

"Does it mean nothing that I am sorry?" Finduilas cries. "Perhaps I am not brave like you, or clever like you, or so well-favoured by the Valar: but I grieve what was done to you! Does that not count for anything?"

"Not really," says Lúthien; "not until you are willing to realise the part you played in it." She looks at Finduilas then and manages a smile, a real one. "You are part of this world too, coz, a strand of the Great Music just as much as all these great lords and princes. Own it: and once you have done so perhaps we might reach some sort of understanding. But for now there is little I can say to you."

Finduilas walks away at that, and Lúthien manages to exhale.

She was harsh, she knows. Unfair, to blame Finduilas for all Nargothrond's crimes, to think of the blood underneath Lúthien's own ragged fingernails as she clawed desperately at the door and pin it all on her little cousin as though she was Lúthien's sole gaoler.

It was Sauron, Lúthien reminds herself, who killed Finrod.

Still she cannot keep the hot tears of guilt from her eyes.

Back outside the Girdle:

Celebrimbor is still Bored.

He is also quite worried about how angry Orodreth is going to be with him for absconding to Doriath with Finduilas.

It would have been easier, he thinks sometimes, had he left Nargothrond with his father and uncle.

Not better. Not right. But easier, maybe.

If Finrod had lived, if he had been the king Celebrimbor had thrown his allegiance behind, it would have been better received, he is sure.

But he could not have gone with his father either, he reasons to himself. Look what became of Curufin! Nobody even knows where he is; but the stain of his deeds marks all Beleriand yet.

Perhaps Celebrimbor might have stopped him and Celegorm from attacking Beren and Lúthien, had he been there.

Perhaps Huan would have stayed – would have lived, if Celebrimbor had been there.

Easy to fantasise. But Celebrimbor did nothing when he had the chance, did not speak against his father and Celegorm until it was too late to mean anything, left Lúthien sobbing in her lonely gaol instead of working to free her.

Lost in these unhappy musings, he does not at first notice how quiet the forest has grown: but there are no birds singing, suddenly, and the rustle of small mammals through the undergrowth has stilled.

It might be the Girdle, and the strange effects of Melian's magic, Celebrimbor reasons to himself.

Then he hears the growl.

The problem is – for just one crucial moment – his traitorous heart stills – and he thinks, Huan is here, he is come back for me as he always did—

The wolf-pack is lining the clearing by the time he realises his mistake, cutting off his chance of running.

Ah.

Celebrimbor has seen true wolves before, as a child in Valinor.

Once his father took him on a hunting-trip in the wilds near Formenos, just the two of them, and bade him be very quiet when they came to the sparse northern plains; and then he whispered in Celebrimbor's ear, Look! and, looking, Celebrimbor caught sight of an animal nearly bigger than Huan and snow-white all over, with a fine thick tail and a proud snout.

Typical, he thinks now, that Sauron could have perverted even so noble a beast: for the werewolves surrounding him now are mangy and thin, their frames twisted in the same painful way orcs are built, their eyes like dull hungry flames flickering in their heads.

It is not fair, a childish part of him wants to cry out, Tol-in-Gaurhoth was cast down, there should be no wolves roaming these lands now—

But Celebrimbor is a Scientist. He knows better than to trust what he believes over what he sees.

He scales a tree.

The wolves close in around its base, snarling up at him.

No Carcharoths, these, only relics of Sauron's experiments: but that will not matter, when their teeth sink into him.

Everything about you is derivative, some ugly voice seems to whisper to Celebrimbor, its sibilance woven into the wolves' growls; Celegorm your uncle was slain by a greater beast than these poor prototypes, and Finrod Felagund whom you loved at least saved another before they killed him, but you are going to die here, alone and forgotten and unmourned—

Celebrimbor grits his teeth, and ignores it.

He is not going to jump out of the tree to some foolish death. He is going to live forever, and leave a greater mark on the world than that of his father the traitor – he will not end like this—

Besides, Finduilas is expecting him to wait for her.

He leans against the trunk of the tree and settles in for a long night.

By the morning things are rather more dire.

The wolves have not tired; Celebrimbor, on the other hand, is very thirsty, and also growing worried for a new reason.

Finduilas is expecting him to wait for her.

If she comes back to the clearing where she left him, and the wolves decide she is an easier target—

She could perhaps run back to the safety of the Girdle in time – but the wolves are fast, and hungry.

Celebrimbor briefly imagines riding alone back to Nargothrond to inform Orodreth that his daughter is dead.

No: he will have to find a way to drive the wolves away, and quickly, for he does not know how much longer his cousin will be.

He grips his sword-hilt and then hesitates.

There is a pressure on the back of his neck, an oddly disapproving one, as though to say, Don't even think about it, child.

"I am not a child," Celebrimbor says aloud, and the wolves look up at him, snarling as though in agreement.

Finduilas is in danger, Celebrimbor reminds himself, and then he draws his sword and jumps down from his branch.

The wolves are upon him almost instantly. There are many of them, but Celebrimbor is quick, and moreover learned to fight wrestling with Huan long before he was ever given a sword.

He ducks and weaves and rolls, slashing with his sword as best as he can; but then one wolf lands a lucky blow with his claws on his thigh, and another collides with him from behind, sending him sprawling onto the ground—

Celebrimbor closes his eyes, and does not bother to cry out, for nobody will hear him.

Then he has the brief muddled impression of a thud, and sudden pressure on his chest, and then before he can catch his breath or work out what is going on the weight on his legs is lifted, and someone is snapping at him, "Get up, Tyelpë!" and his sword is suddenly back in his hand—

Celebrimbor knows that voice. He scrambles to his feet.

Standing before him, currently locked in a struggle with one of the last few wolves, dishevelled and bloodied but very much alive, is his father.

(to be continued)

#silmarillion #my fic #bullet point fic #the fairest stars #finrod #amrod #finduilas #celebrimbor #maglor #fingon #maeglin #luthien #let's gooo this arc is gathering steam now

[canonicallyobserving911]

Eddie Diaz's "Ghost of a Second Chance"

IMO, in 7x7, Eddie Diaz will have a chance to see or hear how the life he always believed he was "supposed" to have with a wife and kids is not the life he's been WANTING. Based on his heart eyes and the way he's used Chris as a shield for his heart, his ideal life includes a husband (Buck) and their son (Chris).

Be clear, I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE!

I waited to post this because when season 7 started, it was unclear where the show was going to take Eddie's storyline and it appears the redirection of it that happened prior to 7x4 and 7x5 was not the original plan since it's been confirmed via interviews that Eddie was supposed to be with T*mmy instead of Buck. Also, now that it's confirmed Shannon Diaz will make a return in a future season 7 episode as either a ghost or a hallucination or whatever for Eddie, I decided I was ready to post this.

At the end of season 6 when Eddie asked Maris*l out on a date, I thought about the way the narrative has always shown Shannon is the only person who can help Eddie understand Chris doesn't need another mother. He's been carrying the weight and guilt of their relationship around with him for years because he thought him going to the Army broke her when in fact, they were two broken teenagers who were in over their heads and they were so busy trying to mimic the lives they saw Eddie's parents living that they never discussed what either of them wanted out of life.

Unpopular Opinion: Eddie and Shannon were NOT this perfect high school aged Romeo and Juliet type of romantic couple some people keep trying to make them out to be because the truth is they weren't soulmates and they weren't compatible. While it's true they were best friends, they were never on the same page and they didn't know how to communicate. Instead of talking to each other, all they did was argue and have sex but matured relationships consist of more than just sex, hence the 7x5 depiction of Eddie's relationship with Maris*l. They don't know each other and the episode title, "You don't know me" confirmed it.

Full Disclosure: I'm not a Shannon Diaz fan and it has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH BUDDIE! It's strictly because she ABANDONED Chris, her biological son and the fact that she was a teen mother doesn't have anything to do with it because it does NOT excuse her behaviors. Teenage girls who were/are younger than her don't/didn't run out on their kids just because they need/needed time. If she didn't want to be with Eddie anymore that's fine but to leave and not attempt to contact her son for almost two years was NOT ok. She wrote Chris a letter that she wasn't even sure she would send but what happened to a phone call or her sending him a "Hey Chris, I love you and I miss you" email? Even back then there were too many ways she could have contacted him but the CANON FACTS are SHE CHOSE NOT TO. If Eddie wouldn't have called her to interview at Durand she would have stayed gone. Don't get it twisted because she was getting ready to leave Chris again so people should stop romanticizing their relationship and truthfully, so does Eddie. For CANON proof of these claims, all viewers have to do is LISTEN to the things she said to him in 2x17 when they were at the beach and when they were at the restaurant.

Eddie's my favorite character but he's not blameless in any of this either and by his own admission to Buck in 2x10, he left them first. But the difference is he made the DECISION to leave El Paso so he could provide a better life for him and his son even though his toxic mother, Helena (I'm not including Ramon because he had a redemption arc) offered to take Chris from him. He could have left Chris there but HE DIDN'T. He even told Shannon that being Chris' father taught him more about being a man than war ever could.

One last thing, Shannon and Maddie ARE NOT THE SAME! Maddie didn't abandon Jee-Yun, she left because she thought she was a danger to her and she went to get help. She wasn't in Boston galivanting around, shopping and partying like it was 1999, she went to a center for women to figure out what was wrong with her and why she felt like she did then she continued with therapy.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...

While I don't like Shannon's actions, I do believe she's probably the only person who can help Eddie understand that he doesn't have to marry a "woman" to be happy. Why do I believe this? Well, they were best friends and they were married which means she knows things about Eddie that no one else does. She was the first woman he "pulled" away from and since they were separated for a long time while he was in the Army and after she left them, it's likely she figured some things out about what he really wants that neither of them was ready to confront.

Since 2x1, Eddie's story has been told in bits and pieces and while a lot of people romanticized what he had with her, I didn't because they were young and neither one of them knew what they wanted. Did he love her? He said he did but IMO he loved her as much as an 18-year-old could but I don't believe he was in love with her. Did she love him? She said she did but just like him, based solely on her actions, she didn't know what love was either.

Reminder, the only reason Eddie proposed they reconcile in 2x17 was because she thought she was pregnant again. He said he was looking for a sign and he thought her begin pregnant was it but before that he didn't want to do it. If you don't believe it, rewatch 2x17 and LISTEN to the conversation he had with Bobby. Bobby was the one who told him he would be a great dad to a second child but Eddie wasn't so sure. At dinner, when Shannon said, "I'm not pregnant", he paused then responded, "That doesn't change anything" but she rebutted with, "It does for me".

It appears she finally admitted to him that the life they were trying to live was NOT the one either of them wanted but he wasn't ready to admit it. He was using Chris as a shield like he always does and he was hoping her love for their son would be enough for them to reconcile and continue doing whatever they were doing. He said something similar to Ana when he broke up with her in 5x3. He said, "Chris loves you so much" but he never said he did and now he's trying to figure out where Maris*l fits since she babysat twice while he was flying in helicopters going to fight matches in Las Vegas and to karaoke with TK.

Believe it or not, Shannon was getting ready to leave again. If she wasn't then she wouldn't have brought up the letter she wrote to Chris. Also, she said she was still learning how to be someone's mother (notice she didn't say Chris' mother she said someone's) and she said maybe someday, she could learn how to be somebody's wife (not Eddie's wife but somebody's). Furthermore, when they were at the beach, she asked Eddie, "Is that all I am to you, Christopher's mother?" but he responded, "Shannon?" and deflected the conversation. Then she said if that's what it is then it's ok. She proceeded and asked him what he wanted and all he said was "All of this" with a hand wave out towards the ocean. He never admitted what he wanted and it appears the reason was because he didn't want to say.

In 2x7, while they were arguing, Eddie asked her, "What didn't I give you?" and her response was "You!" Therefore, Eddie always kept a piece of himself away from her and she admitted it to him but he wanted it to work probably for the wrong reasons.

REMINDER: In 2x17, Shannon was the one who said they needed to get a DIVORCE! She knew they needed to move on but Eddie was the one who said, "But we're still married". It appears he was the one trying to hold onto the life he believed they were supposed to have and I think it goes back to the example he saw from his parents.

Here's the thing, in 6x16, Eddie admitted he didn't propose to Shannon, he just said, "Let's get married" after they found out she was pregnant. They were best friends in high school and they started an instant family that neither of them were ready for. When she abruptly died, he didn't have a chance to discuss all the things they'd left unsaid. That's why Shannon has to be the one to tell him that it's ok for him to want who he wants. Who's that? BUCK!

Shannon vs. Buck

Please understand the show has illustrated it time and time again that Eddie wants to marry Buck so they can raise Chris together. If that wasn't the case, then Buck wouldn't have been included in Eddie's flashbacks in 3x15 while he was trapped in the well as many times as he was. He was shown with Chris more than anyone else which means Eddie thinks about the life he wants to have with Buck A LOT!

Additionally, in 7x1, Buck, Eddie and Shannon all sat on Chris' bed in the same spot to illustrate how they're his three parents while the babysitter (Maris*l) was nowhere to be found (related post linked here).

Also, Shannon's romantic relationship with Eddie and her parental one with Chris were constantly contrasted with the relationships Eddie and Chris have with Buck and Buck has always been shown to be the perfect match for Eddie. Reminder, he agreed to have Buck's back in 2x1 but Shannon told him in 2x7 that he never had her back.

Eddie needs to HEAR he can move on from the first person he married from someone other than the people who've been saying it to him. Also, in the past, someone's ALWAYS told him what to do regarding his relationships. He was "strongly encouraged" to marry Shannon because he got her pregnant. His parents and Bobby told him it was time to move on from her in season 4 (YES! His parents did too because reminder, they stopped by their house to eat on their way back to L.A. after they left Austin, TX [in the LS crossover episode, Eddie said it to Judd] and two episodes later, in 4x6, Bobby told him he needed to move on). Then in 6x14, Tia Pepa pushed him to start dating again even though he tried to tell her he wasn't ready.

The point of this post is Shannon is probably the ONLY person who can show or tell Eddie that the life he thought they should have had, wouldn't have ever been because there would have always been someone or something that was pulling him away from her the same way it did when they were married 👀.

It appears Shannon will be Eddie's "Ghost of a Second Chance" but the question is, will her reappearance as a ghost or whatever for the second time in season 7 help Eddie admit the person he's in love with is Buck? Only the showrunner, writers and producers know the answer to that question.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #shannon diaz #anti shannon diaz #911 abc #911 on abc #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #911 spoilers #911 speculation #anti eddiemarisol #anti marisol #anti helena diaz #ramon diaz #I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE!

[tarnishedxknight]

{out of dalmasca} Thinking about Drace's death. And I just. *sighs... leans forward... makes steeple hands*

The whole reason why Vayne could even order Drace's execution in the first place is because, as Bergan said, "When you drew your sword at His Excellency, you drew your sword against the Empire," or something similar. Meaning... Vayne's the self-proclaimed emperor now, so challenging him is treason.

Except.

Archadia does not have a throne succeeded by blood, legacy, or choice. It isn't passed down in a family, chosen or assumed by the current emperor, or chosen by literally anybody who walks in and says they're the emperor now. It's done by an election process. An election involving the voting of the masses. So Vayne... is not the new emperor automatically because he's his father's son or a member of House Solidor. And he cannot declare himself emperor, even if, as per his shoddy excuse, the Empire cannot be left without a head. There would still need to be an election to determine even a placeholder after Gramis is found dead, let alone the next emperor.

So... Drace could still have argued that Vayne did not assume power through fair and legal means, the People™️ have not had their say, and therefore she does not have to recognize his authority. She would have been well in her rights to do/say that, and I think if she had framed it that way, Gabranth and maybe even Zargabaath might have backed her up on it, outnumbering Vayne and Bergan 3 to 2.

At the very least, Drace could have been like, "You can say you're taking over until such time as an election is held, but until then, you hold no real power to make significant decisions regarding the fates of the accused." There has to be a law like that on the books somewhere. You're telling me a huge Empire like Archadia, given to eating its own young in a political sense, doesn't have legislation in place to deter or prevent someone from simply stating, "Welp, I'm in power now," and making potentially catastrophic decisions in government like dissolving the Senate and executing someone who, essentially, equates to a high commanding military general during wartime? I think not.

So I just. *rubs temples* Drace would have known the law better than that and so would the rest of the Judge Magisters. They're... literal judges. It's right there in their job title, heh. She should have pushed back more. They all should have.

No point to this rant other than that my girl got done dirty and I will never not be salty about it. XD

Thoughts?

#{ out of dalmasca } ᵒᵒᶜ #alt muse: drace

[whiteshadow-cat]

You’re fucking telling me that:

“If Gods can bleed, gods can die,”

And

“I was born and raised in Utah,”

Are two phrases that exist within the same Minecraft role play series

#it makes it better that the people who said this are father and son #dream #dream smp #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #wilbur #cwilbur #fundy mcyt #fundy #cfundy #tommyinnit #dsmp #also climate change canonically exists in the dsmp #and Tommy is a climate change denier

[vintagenightwing]

i think about these panels every day

#it’s about bruce stopping because damian asks him to #talia realizing that ras was awful but he was also her father and she’s allowed to have complex feelings about him and how she mourns him #talia also stopping herself from killing brion bc she loves damian and understands his point of view on the situation #and it tying into what talia said before about ras having a change of heart and having stopped using the lazarus pit #because he feels he has found an heir in damian who will change things for the better #damian being the future of the al ghul family #damian carrying two legacies and trying to better both #it’s about them being a family #bruce and talia not being on the best terms and not always seeing eye bc of the way they were raised (and what moral codes they developed #bc of circumstance) #but still loving each other and loving their son #i love this robin run a lot #and i feel that this points to damian’s philosophy being that people should be given the opportunity to change and be better #because it ties to how he himself changed with dick’s help #so it makes sense he’d want others to be given that opportunity #i’m not super into comics so i could be wring abt some things but this is my interpretation!! #damian wayne #talia al ghul #bruce wayne #robin (2021) #also damian saying ‘we all must pay’ in reference to how they can try to do better and that includes atonement and how #trying to change doesn’t erase the hurt they’ve caused #and atoning is part of the process hence they must all do it at some point #and then damian turning lazarus island into a safe haven like it all ties together #and i’m so mad that this run got cancelled just as they were introducing lazarus island and all the other cool stuff they could do with it

[fics-lovebot]

jujutsu kaisen recs

main masterlist

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs, luv you and thank you in advance❤️

WHY ARE ALL OF THEM SO FUCKING GOOD????????! pls tRUST me

gojo

gojo eating you out

gojo x dacryphilia

gojo loves fat pussy

sending gojo an accidental nude so he sends you a whole video

car sex with gojo

gojo being goofy in an elevator full of people - he´s big on PDA

gojo tried to give himself a haircut and now wants to go bald - this is fuNNY ksksks, I love the banter

trying to break up with yandere!gojo - yep, we´re talkin about lovesick toxic obsessed type of gojo, break up????? you know better than to tell him that sooo since you´re acting dUMB he has to fucc so sense into you bc clearly you forgot who tf ur talking to - LDKJSDFJDJFHLSHFLSHDF but he´s not rough bc he luvss you a lot

gojo is the pussy fairy - fwb, he´s your sneaky link when henessy makes you act up. he got a mf tongue piercing bYEE

insecure bully!gojo - angst, lil fluff, he´s a bully but he´s in love with that, but it´s not enough. part 2

the horniest - smut, ITS SO GOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDD, he´s horny af, pussy drunk, obsessed, borderline crazy for that wap

phone calls - slice of life, hubby!gojo, dilf!gojo, his wife and his daughter are his only priority, this is so sdkfjskdjfh :´( i love it

cherished moments - clanleader!gojo, hubby!gojo who is a softy for his wife, #simp

family moments - fluff, slice of life, this is so wholesomeee, bf!gojo meeting your parents for the first time, i love it

someone older - smut, rich dilf!gojo, big age gap, big dicc too, talks big shit as well, "what do you do when your boyfriend cheats? you go to his house and fuck his dad" I MEAN- skdfhksdf

best of the best - smut, fwb! satoru, big sHIT talker omg, he lit asks you to be his gf wHILE he´s making you cum,,,,,best bf ever tho

love struck - fluffy, ex-fuckboy!satoru, he´s experiencing love for the first time :((((( IT´S SO CUTEEEEEEEEEE

love dumb - fluff, blurb, you make him lose his composure, can´t even focus bc you´re over there existing, someone should make a longer version of this! so good

too much - ANGSTTTYYYY, fluff too, reader and gojo are in a situationship kinda thing where they live together and love each other but nothing has been said yet, they get into an argument bc gojo has a big mouth and says a lot of hurtful things, they´re both just so exhausted

i know you still think about the times we had - angst, fluff, rich bf!gojo, his father makes you break up with him, it´s so angsty omg, they get into this HUGE argument bc gojo´s dad is a controlling mf

sanctuary - fluff, lowkey angst, weak!reader, bully!gojo, nah he´s just in love but doesn´t know how to say it

the road to falling in love - fluff, strangers to lovers, it´s a collection o moments where keeps falling harder for you, I LOVE ITTTTT, sdkfjhskdjf it´s kinda slow burn but not boring at all

loving you - fluffy af, "you’re the apple of his eyes; the love of his life. the only one who matters" ME N WHO???? pls this made my want to cry my heart out

yuji finds out gojo has a family - fluff, lowkey angst, hubby!gojo, dad!gojo, so,,, this made me cry, i love yuji sm he deserves the world :( this is part two and it also made me crY MY MF EYES OUT :))))))))

i´ll meet you forever in this memory - fluff, college au, married life au, it´s so good, he lit has this big ass plan to make you fall for him, and i mean big, like planned way ahead lmao, 10 years later he´s still asking you to go out with him,,,,even if you´re already married sdlfkjkdfhlsdjh so so cute

can´t stop drinking - ANGST, death, blood, dad!gojo, husband!gojo, mentions of wanting to die, a curse kills you and your son allegedly but in reality the elders had lied to him all these years, part 2 made me fucking cry, PLEASEEE I NEED PART 3

hype man - crack, fluff, supportive bf!gojo, he´s such an amazing bf :(, “damn, my girl ran you over with a bus, reversed, then got out and shot you twice in the foot? what did you do?? sounds like a you issue.” LMAOOOOO this is so cute and funny at the same time, i love it, such a gojo thing to say

flicker of flame - fluff, nervous soon to be dad!gojo, pregnant!reader, he´s going to be the best dad ever

nanami

when you break up and make up - nanami divorce au, angst

dorm room escapades - smut, dad´s bestfriend!nanami, age gap, GAWWDD DAMNNNN, daddy kink, this is some good stuff

you ask him to fuck you like a whore - its a short one but me likey

nanami drabbles - pwp, pls yall readdd part 2 and part 3

nanami is strong af - short blurb, smut, sdflksjd this got me giggling and shii

fifteen minutes - “Say that again. Louder. Can’t hear shit with the sound of my dick slapping into your cunt.” that´s all I have to say, your honor

protective - headcanon, hubby!kento, i love thissss

swear it´s just right for you - smut, fluff, hubby!nanami, I´m weaaaak, he´s so husband material

stressed after work - boyfriend! kento, a cute lil drabble bc he loves your mere presence

labour of love - fluff, vanilla smut, lowkey angst if you´ve been keeping up with the manga/anime, loving hubby!kento, SO DOMESTIC, love making, :(

losing his mind - smut, dom!reader, hubby!kento, sub!kento, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW, 10000/10, now this is new

his protégé - fluff, slice of life, fiancé!kento, dinner time with yuuji, it´s so wholesome :´)

my future is with you - fluff, unexpected angst, this is SICKKKKKKK, the last senteces is fucking sickening, and NOT in a good way, so fucking wrong for that, I litteraly wanna dIE

tie my tie, marry me - fluff, slice of life, "the moment nanami knew he never wanted to tie his tie by himself ever again and wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side" please just do yourself a favor and READ THIS

putting you in your place - smut, reader is gojo´s brat little sister, mean!nanami, BRAT TAMER!NANAMI, HEAVY degradation, “Maybe this was your fucking goal all along. To have me ruin you on my cock and fuck the attitude out of you.” CALL 911

edging - smut, pwp, fluff, this,,,,this is one the BEST nanami smuts out there, i just know the description of the whole thing is 100% accurate, the details, the way this is written, the visuaLSsss ldskjfhjsalfh go read it pls

married man - fluff, work au, HE IS A PROUD HUSBAND OK, the man was just waiting for somebody to say sOMETHING sljsdhfl now he can´t stop bragging about his perfect wife

toji

toji x size kink

toji x pussy spanking ´till you´re squirting - the title says it all,,, he´s MEAN

toji doing push ups with you on his back - you´re basically a rag doll,,,bc wdym he puts you in a fULL NELSON??

toji gets embarrased - the man WHIMPERED bc the riding was gewdd so reader kinda teases him for it, how dare she right? so now he has to make her pAY bc he aint no bitch

silk sheets n sticky cum - toji can´t control himself when he sees you in a nightgown so he uses you as a cum dump,,, in a very romantic way flsjdflkssldfjlsdfh, breeding kink

toji x overstimulation - fINALLY he got what he deserved, reader got him WHIMPERING, body shaking eyes rolling to the back of his head and everythangggg, I'm here for it.

take it lil princess - toji got me fucked up, straight up size kink like FRRRR he wants to break, bend and basically snap you in half (i´ll let him tbh), daddy kink, he got a big dicc as aLWAYS, the degRADING DIRTY TALKKK???? yes. he talks and talks and tALKS. there´s a lot going on yall

mine - toji mixed with monster!porn,,, nothing else to say- HE´S A WEREWOLfff, mean asf, breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, it´s nasty

jealous daddy - slice of life, dilf!toji, megumi is a baby, toji and megumi create a plan to keep you away from megumi´s kindergarden teacher lmaooo, its so cute

nyphomaniac - smut, nypho!reader, dom!toji, THERE´S A WHOLE LOTTA STUFF GOING ON HEREE, just read it omg

family man - fluff, soft dad!toji, baby megumi, husband!toji, he´s a softie for his son and his wife ;(

unprecedented reveal - smut, fluff, mma!toji, journalist!reader, lowkey angst, "photo leaks of toji going down on you in public is suddenly exposed for everyone to know about the infamous fighters girlfriend" wELL dssdfh that´ll do it

will always be yours - smut, fluff, so basically toji only does rough sex, doggy style being his fav, but when it comes to you he prefers the loving-face to face-intense eye contanct type of sex (more like love making) bc being with you makes him feel ten different emotions at once :) DÑFLJSLDFJ

unspoken memories - fluff, lowkey angst, dad!toji, baby!megumi, married life, my heart is so full after reading this, it´s so domestic, so adorable, such a happy read

make a mess on his face - smut, toji is a messy pussy eater, that´s it, that´s the tweet

geto

gimme, gimme more - rich!geto x stripper!reader, lots of plot and build up, he is misteriousssss and fucking filthy and so cuTE??????? wtf, the wating game is real, he knows how to play his cards very well, LAWDD HAVE MERCY i would have folded too

gripping the headboard with one hand - smut, “what a slut.” hELP

protective hubby - teacher!suguru, pregnant wife oc, it´s cutee

focus - suggestive, flirty!geto, tutor!geto, “you’re doing so good for me… keep going.” I HATE ITTTTTTTT, i would fold like a mf lawn chair bitch OOF

dress shopping - very suggestive, WHY IS HE SO SMOOTH WITH IT ALL THE TIME??? got me blushing and sweating and shit

phoque - crack, teacher!suguru, twin girls dad!suguru, he accidentally curses in front of his daughters and now he´s gotta make up some bullshit story to save his ass, SLFHSLDKJHSLDH this is funny

choso

picture perfect - smut, photographer choso, he´s lowkey a perv, jacks off to oc´s pictures

suckig souls - smut, succubus oc, somnophilia, sub! choso, lil dacryphilia, love love love love it

meanie - smut, mean!choso, “Why you actin’ like some dick-starved whore? I fucked you good this morning" THE WAY I SCREAMEDDDDDDDD “Is that what you needed, princess? Some good dick?" STOOOOOOOOOPPPP

your pleasure - smut, squirting, choso discovers the magic of eating pussy :))))) aND he´s a fucking natural too like ???? gTFO

it´s too much - smut, dom!reader, inexperienced!choso and sub!chose fics are like crack to me, i´m obsessed, this is so detailed, he is eager to please sdlfjls and wants to try it all at once

fingers in his hair - smut, chose loves having his hair pulled when he´s eating pussy,,,,,,,CALL A MF AMBULANCE a bitch just died

cherry blossoms - smut, virgin!choso, phone sex, it´s his first orgasm yall, not yuji talking about a "sloppy toppy" LSJFHLSJDFHLFDH he´s so outta pocket

sukuna

itadori

vivid fantasies - smut, sukuna wants to bone you and he makes it yuji’s problem sakfhkshfksfd poor yuji

poly / multiple versions

gojo and geto are rich besties and they coax you into a poly relationship - smut

you slap their ass - reaction. gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso, toji, megumi, itadori, yuta

too much for them to handle - toji and gojo version. it´s a LOT going here as well. gojo is a whole swiTCH. toji is a bully in the sheets so you know he´s all abou that degrading teasing dirty talk, we love it

slut him out - gojo, geto, nanami and toji version. y'know what,,,idek what to say about thi- IT´S NASTY FILTHY JUST PORN, reader is a whOre (not my words), read at your own risk bc i was SHOOk

how jjk men like it - smut, the gojo and toji one,,, i HATe it hereee

bimbo bunny - smut, choso, toji and nanami version, the vISUALs I GOT FROM THE NANAMI ONE LAWDDDD

birthday boy - smut, birthday sex, dacryphilia, i just KNOWWWW this is geto

#jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #yandere gojo #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto smut #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori

[spicyhamsamson]

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

#batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #Robin #Nightwing #Red Hood #Red Robin #DCAU #DC #Dc comics #Batman: The Animated Series #BTAS #The Batman Adventures #Harley Quinn #Harleen Quinzel #victor fries #Mr. Freeze #Harvey Dent #Two-Face #The Joker #The Killing Joke #Joe Chill #spi rant #haven’t used that tag in a while

[cordeliawhohung]

Of Sea Foam and Iron [1]

general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

your beauty was meant to be a blessing, not a curse. the only way your father can keep you safe is by marrying you off to an ugly, scarred blacksmith. at first, it seems like your new husband wants nothing to do with you. you eventually learn that's not the case at all.

wc: 4.8k

warnings: historical au with lots of inaccuracies, blood/gore/violence, minor self-harm ideation (no sh happens), arranged marriage, reader is a virgin, reader is very shallow, nudity, fear of sex, ancient standards of women (the characters aren't actually gods, but rather god-coded. they're mortal, but still fit the symbolism of said gods)

When you were a child, people often told you that your beauty was a gift from the gods, and for the longest time you believed them.

Certainly, it was only by Aphrodite’s grace that you were able to hold yourself with such elegance and outshine even the most precious of gems and metals. Even as a young girl your father adorned you with flashy jewelry as if to prove to anyone who laid eyes on you that you were the only creature in the world that could make gold appear dull. You enjoyed every moment your father spent parading you around because that’s what love was supposed to be; the unconditional admiration of all those that were so far beneath you. 

It wasn’t until you became of courting age that you learned better. Gifts of fine silk and flashy jewelry were commonly sent to your father by countless suitors, and while they were beautiful, he sent every single one of them back. Simple gifts of cloth and metal were not good enough for your fathers beautiful daughter. If a man were to wed you, he would have to offer up something that your father could not provide for you himself. 

Countless suitors visited your abode where they would drink wine with your father and eat the freshest fruit while they attempted to gain his favor. Sometimes, you were permitted to sit in on their discussion, though you were not allowed to speak and no one was allowed to speak to you. You sat silent and unwavering like a transformed tree nymph, capable of only observing the events that unraveled around you as you stared at the man who sat in front of your father. 

His name was unremarkable, something you didn’t think you could remember even if it had been carved into your skin. He was not handsome nor ugly, but you could tell by the vibrant color of his chiton that he was of nobility. A philosopher's son, or even a politician. Personally, you guessed a politician due to his sharp tongue and even sharper gaze. Every instance in which his eyes landed on you, you felt as if you needed to check your skin for cuts. 

All the silver in the world couldn’t gild his tongue enough to grant him the ability to convince your father to let him take your hand in marriage. There was no amount of cattle or coin that your father seemed content in trading you for, and you watched in silent horror as the man stood from the table with his finger pointed in accusation. A finger turned into a blade all too fast, and it wouldn’t take long for blood to stain the stone floor of your home. 

In either anger, frustration, or arrogance, your suitor had dared to pull a blade on the man that raised you. His blade was well made, built for killing men, but even in his old age your father picked up the very same knife he used to cut up fruit to carve into the man's stomach. The odor of his offals was putrid and you covered your mouth as you watched the man attempt to keep his organs within the confines of his skin. He failed miserably, and his body joined his insides as he collapsed on the floor as a bloody and gasping mess. 

It was then that you learned love was not at all something gentle and sweet. Love was the spilling of blood in a brash act of violence and the decaying scent of rotting intestines. Love was what started the war of the Trojans where countless men lost their lives in gruesome battles. Helen of Troy brought the end of an empire simply by existing. You had brought the death of a man for that same crime. 

As your father turned to face you with red and sticky hands, he finally realized what a suitor could provide to you that he could not; protection. Because despite his reflexes, and the body that laid on the floor in front of him to cool, his age would soon catch up to him. There would be a day where you would be alive and he would not, and should that day come before you were to find a husband, he was certain no one would live to tell the tale. Your beauty was not a gift from the gods, but a curse that could damn a nation to ruin, and it was his responsibility to ensure you were protected no matter the cost. 

After that day, your father would not accept any more suitors into his home. No matter how much they groveled at the door, or begged to see even the faintest glimpse of you, they were all cast away back into the streets in which they came. For months, your father combed the city himself in search of a man who came even anywhere close to being worthy of your hand. During that time, you only ever set foot outside if you were in the enclosed courtyard of your fathers estate, otherwise you spent most of your time hidden away on the second floor where no visitors, man or woman, was allowed to see you. 

Trapped in your own home, your mind began to wander to places even darker and more morbid than the Underworld itself. If you didn’t walk with such grace and have an air of beauty about you, then you would have never found yourself in that predicament in the first place. Some frustrated and upset part of you was tempted to disfigure yourself. Maim your face with a knife and become something no one could bear to behold. Maybe then at least you’d be able to pick your own husband. But if your beauty truly was a gift from the gods, and not at all a curse like it felt, you wouldn’t dare to cast their grace aside, lest you face the consequences. 

Eventually, your father found a suitable man for you to marry. You had begun to think that he would never be able to find anyone that would meet his standards, and yet one day he returned home with the triumphant news. Your soon-to-be-husband’s name was Simon Riley, and you were to be wedded to him before Apollo drew his chariot across the sky the next day. 

You knew nothing about this man besides the very few things your father would tell you over your last meal together. Simon Riley was an artisan, a blacksmith to be more specific. He often spent his days slaving over a fire as he bent iron and bronze to his will. In your mind you could already see his hands darkened from burns and skin wet with sweat from the heat. A man who could shape something as cold and unforgiving as metal certainly was a man to be reckoned with, yet plenty of artisans before him had asked to wed you. 

What made him so different?

That question plagued your mind in the early hours of the morning as you washed yourself in the cooling water of your bath. Usually a nuptial bath would be given under much brighter circumstances, both literally and emotionally. As a young girl you always imagined that the sun would stream through the window and light up the water in the same way ocean waves sparkled at sunset. Instead, you bathed by candlelight as you purified yourself for your marriage, because marrying off a soiled daughter was unforgivable, no matter how beautiful you were. 

Once you were clean and smothered in as many fragrant oils as your skin could hold, you donned your peplos and veil for the ceremony. Beautiful garments, the white fabric hung off your body and cascaded down your legs like foam, and the veil was as red as a blazing fire to ward off any ill spirits. If this was any normal wedding, people from leagues around would come to see you in your attire, to get a chance to attempt to bask in your beauty, yet it was no normal wedding. The only people who would see you dressed like that would be your father and your new husband. 

“It’s safer this way,” your father attempted to soothe you. The night air was cool against your anxious skin as the two of you snuck through abandoned streets. It had felt like an eternity since you were able to travel along the worn stone, and it was only because you were to be transferred off to the care of another man. “There will be time for proper celebration later. No one will dare lay a hand on you under the care of your husband.” 

An odd tingling sensation plagued your skin the closer you got to Simon Riley’s home, and the moment you laid eyes on the structure, you knew it was his. It felt like it was prophesied in a dream. Approaching the steps to the door felt strangely like coming home, yet it was wrong. This abode would not be a home, but a prison in which to keep you safe. 

As if he sensed your presence, the man who you assumed to be Simon Riley stepped through the door and into the dim street. Darkness shrouded his figure, making it difficult to discern specific features through your veil, but his height was easily noticeable. He towered well above both you and your father as if he were a titan, and he was just as broad as an ox. Power and confidence exuded from him, and the only weakness he showed was a limp as he walked down the steps to the street. 

“Quickly,” your father prompted as the man approached, “lift the veil and she is yours. Yours to cherish. To protect.” 

Simon stopped in front of you and stood still for so long you feared he second guessed the whole arrangement. As much as you didn’t really want to get married, not like that in the darkness of a street in front of a stranger's home, you knew it was necessary. You would not be the reason more blood was spilled over pathetic jealousy. A part of you just wished that everything was as glamorous as was once promised to you. 

Eventually you watched as his fingers pinched the sheer fabric of your veil and he peeled back your disguise with so much care it was as if he was afraid to harm you. There in the dim glow of the impending dawn, you saw your husband for the first time. He stood as tall as a warhorse and just as scarred as one. His nose was large and crooked and adorned with puffy, raised tissue that threatened the thin skin of his eye and tender rose of his lips. Dull eyes scanned the features of your face as he let the veil fall along your back. Despite your beauty, he almost seemed uninterested in you, and you weren’t sure if you should have been grateful for that. 

“It is done,” your father concluded. He held out the leather pack that he had gathered a handful of your items in. Clothes, a few necklaces and bracelets, and a hairbrush was all you had to your name. Should you need anything else, your new husband would provide for you. “Hurry, inside. She is yours, now. Keep her safe.”

Without hesitation, Simon took your pack from your fathers hands before he rested his hand on your low back. Even through the fabric of your dress you could feel the coarseness of his palm as he urged you up the stone steps towards the entrance. You glanced over your shoulder and took in the view of your fathers features. For all you knew, it was the last time you would ever get to see him. 

“You have my word,” Simon promised. Those were the first words you had heard him speak, and they were an oath. 

Pale candlelight consumed you as Simon closed the door behind the two of you, locking you in your new home. It was only then that the true panic began to rattle its cry within your ribcage. You had been given away to a man you had never met before in the name of protecting you, and yet you had still been wedded all the same. There were certain expectations given to a new wife, one that you knew a man would be stupid to not take advantage of with a woman of your blessing. The very idea made your hands clammy, and you found yourself running your palms along your peplos in an attempt to rid yourself of the moisture. 

“Come,” Simon urged as he crossed through the entryway. 

Obeying him, you followed close behind him with careful and light feet as he led you through your new home. There was a vague scent of sweet fruit and warm bread that trailed behind you as he climbed the stairs up to the second floor. Though you tried to ignore it, your eyes couldn’t look away from the obvious limp in his step. His short chiton revealed several gnarly scars on his left leg even more fierce than the ones on his face. It was as if someone attempted to hack his knee off with a dull blade and pitifully failed. Was this man, this battered and ugly man, truly supposed to be your protector? 

Simon brought you to a room that was obviously his bed chambers, and had you not felt slight terror about the events that might unfold in that room, you would have been utterly stunned. Never before had you seen a bed so large. Sure, the man himself nearly scraped the ceiling with the top of his head, and so it only made sense that his bed matched his size, but it was near ridiculous. Its width spanned nearly from wall to wall, wide enough to fit three grown men comfortably, and the length had a good foot on Simon, if not more. There was hardly enough room for anything else in the area because the object took up the entire space of the chamber. 

“Rest. You look exhausted,” he said as he sat your pack on the end of the bed.

Confused, you looked up at him with narrow eyes as he gestured to the bed. You had the strange feeling that he would not be sated until you were at least seated on the bed, so you followed his outstretched hand and sat on the edge of the bed next to your pack. It was strangely comfortable, and dipped in low enough to swallow you whole. You wondered how much wool was used to create such a plush mattress. 

Instead of joining you in bed, your husband took a step toward the doorway before he turned to face you once more. Early dawn light bled through the closed wooden shutters on the window, which illuminated his face but didn’t make his features any less dull. 

“Help yourself to anything. What’s mine is yours. Plenty of food in the kitchen when you get hungry. If you can’t find something you need, ask,” he explained simply.

He spoke to you as if you were some lowly slave, and not his wife. His wife who had caused the death of a man just by beauty alone, a woman who had men lining up for miles for the chance of laying eyes on you, and he spoke to you like that? 

“Where will you be?” you questioned. 

“Working,” he answered gruffly. “My forge is in the courtyard. Don’t walk out there barefoot.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to ask any other questions before he limped out the doorway where his footsteps fell heavy against the wooden floor like thunder. There you sat, at the edge of the bed, still in your wedding clothes, abandoned by your husband. Still, an odd relief washed over you at the realization that you were alone. He had not stripped you bare before him and fucked you into that ungodly large bed like you had expected him to. Grateful that you had not yet had your virginity taken from you, you did as Simon had instructed. It had been over a day since you had last properly slept as you spent the entire night getting ready for your rather depressing wedding ceremony, and that weight bore down on you relentlessly. 

Removing your peplos, you donned a much lighter chiton before you stood at the side of the bed. Wool and animal skin blankets laid across the bed in layers and you peeled them back to crawl underneath. As you sunk down into the mattress, you were enveloped by a scent of musk and fragrant oils that was oddly intoxicating. The weight of the blankets on top of you held you in place, willing your eyes to close. Simon Riley was a strange man, but at least his bed was nice. 

There were many things you learned about your husband that day, none of which he told you himself. He was a very quiet man who truly spent most of his time working at the forge. On the first day you had been wed, you snuck a glance out of one of the windows to watch him work over sweltering coals and steaming air. Though his legs seemed lame, his arms had no such problem. Thick muscles flexed and went taut as he brought his hammer down upon white hot metal to bend it into shape. Sweat lined his brow, which he would wipe at with his forearm every now and then, and though his face was a right mess, you realized the rest of him wasn’t too bad to look at. He knew how to make a variety of things, from tongs to signs to swords, and he was paid handsomely for his work, judging by the large pile of coins and bartering items you would find on the table at the end of the work day. 

He never sat down for proper meals, but while he worked he ate enough to feed two grown men, which only made sense given his size. Lamb seemed to be his favorite, and there was plenty of it. Dried and seasoned jerky, a leg he would roast on a spit to then shred and add to bread, or even some he would fry in a pan. Your help with anything was unnecessary. He never asked you to cook, or clean, or assist in selling his products; Simon was completely self sufficient. 

The thing that caught you most off guard about him was the fact that he slept naked. Your first night together, while you were already in bed, he shamelessly stripped his dusty chiton off and tossed it on the floor, baring himself completely to you. It was your first time ever seeing a man naked, and even in the darkness you could make out the silvery scars that tore through his skin. He was completely covered in them, and you couldn’t help but wonder which of the gods had cursed him with such a body; something that could have been strong, beautiful, and powerful, only to be covered with errors. 

When he climbed into bed next to you, your eyes couldn’t help but glance further down to where his cock hung heavy between his legs. He wasn’t even hard, yet the size of it matched that of the rest of him, and you could feel your heart jump in your throat. Yet that night he still did not take you. Instead, the two of you slept on opposite sides of the bed facing away from one another with nothing but empty space between your bodies. He would not fuck you, and that confused you. Something must have been wrong with his body, littered with scars and abnormalities. Or maybe he was the only man in the entire world who was immune to your gift from Aphrodite. 

If you remained a virgin for much longer, perhaps you could escape and become an acolyte. 

The next month went by like this. He would speak a few words to you, spend his entire day working, and then sleep naked next to you in a bed large enough for a bear. He was not cruel, at least, in fact he was quite the opposite. There was always enough food for you that he would set aside on a special plate, and he bought you a new chiton when you had accidentally torn your old one, but no matter what, he did not seem interested in you. It was as if you were something for him to take care of, rather than something for him to love. 

But that was what your father had wanted for you, wasn’t it? 

Like a caged dove, you spent most of your days peering out of the second story windows to gaze at the city. Busy streets bustled with traders and artisans alike, and you would watch them mingle as they weaved between buildings like ants. On windy days you could smell the salt of the ocean, and you would long for the days when you were a young girl, collecting shells along the shoreline as sea foam gathered around your ankles. Things seemed more colorful back then. As a married woman, everything in your world seemed to only be the shade of stone. 

One day after a heavy rain, some excitement had been brought back into your life. It started with the sound of triumphant horns followed quickly by cheering. Deep, bass drums echoed throughout the streets, drawing you to your window once more where you saw countless men in a march spanning further than you could see. Their red chitons and leather armor branded them as soldiers, and you watched in awe as they paraded through the streets after what was obviously another successful campaign. 

But there was one soldier above all others who towered over them upon a warhorse adorned with armor and a mighty spear. Even from a distance you knew that this man was John MacTavish. He was a soldier bred and born for war as if the only thing he knew how to do was kill. People often said he was bestowed his gifts of war by the God of War himself, Ares, and it was a tough speculation to deny. Countless lives had been taken by his hands alone, and no matter the odds of the battle, he always came home victorious and smiling. You had seen his face only once before in the last victory parade he marched in, but you could never quite get his grin out of your mind. 

“I’m heading into the city,” Simon said behind you. 

Despite his sheer size and thunderous footsteps, your husband had managed to sneak up behind you, startling you half to death. You spun so that your back was to the window to face that goliath of a man with a racing heart. 

“Will you be alright on your own?” he asked. 

Still trying to calm your racing heart, you nodded. 

“Good,” he concluded as he began to walk away. “There is a sword in the kitchen. If anyone attempts to harm you while I’m gone, use it.” 

He didn’t give you any time to explain that you had no idea how to wield a sword, let alone kill a man, before he vanished down the stairs. Moments later you heard the doors to the courtyard open and close, and Simon’s body melted into all the other figures in the streets below you. It wasn’t his first time leaving you alone, after all, he had to get materials for his work somehow, but it was his first time instructing you to use a sword to protect yourself. You figured the countless soldiers that flooded the city had him on edge.

But if that was the case, why would he leave in the first place? 

As you waited for him to return, you couldn’t help but meander down to the kitchen in search of this sword he instructed you to seek out. It didn’t take you long to find it, as he had left it right in the middle of the table next to your lunch. Beautiful iron extended strongly a good foot or so in what was the most well crafted shortsword you had ever seen. Dark wood formed the grip, and there was a flared base made of gleaming brass for the pommel. This looked different than his other works. There was more flair to it, like it was more of a gift than something he would sell for coin. 

With tender fingers, you reached for the grip and took it in hand. Its weight was heavy, more so than you had anticipated. Holding it was awkward as it felt like it wanted to fall forward no matter how high up you held it, and you huffed as you attempted an amateur swing. Unsteady, your strike would have hardly broken the skin of any intruder. When you set the blade back on the table, the memories of your dead suitor bubbled up in your mind. The sheen of his blade as he drew it on your father, the blood and offal that spilled on the floor shortly after, and the reeking stench of death that followed. You weren’t sure if you could ever do such a thing. 

Simon was gone for only half an hour before you heard the sound of the courtyard doors swing open with a creak. You gazed down at your half empty plate where you had snacked on fresh fruits and cheeses while you waited for his return. Sticky juices coated your fingers which you quickly cleaned with your mouth before you stood from your seat and left to greet your husband. 

He wasn’t alone. Another man accompanied him clad in light armor and a sword strapped to his hip; a soldier, likely one of the men who had just returned home. This man’s chin bore a hefty scar, and still despite it he was one of the most handsome men you had ever laid eyes on. Battle hardened muscles bulged out of his uniform, and your gaze couldn’t help but fall to his powerful thighs as he took a few steps into the courtyard. It wasn’t until you saw him smile that you realized who this man was; this was John MacTavish. The hailed hero of your city, its greatest defender, a man who could cut down hundreds and come back smiling through the blood.

Simon hardly had the time to shut and lock the courtyard doors behind him before John’s hands gripped the fabric of his chiton. Words escaped you but your mouth opened in a silent plea. Were they about to fight? Was this soldier, Ares’s wild dog, about to slaughter your husband right in front of your very eyes? Your hands flew to the doorframe to steady yourself as you watched Simon stumble forward while John yanked him closer. You could already smell the gore, imagine the pink intestines and organs that would spew from your husband’s body and all you could do was stand there and watch in horror as John… kissed him?

This man, this near mythical being who had won countless battles in the name of your city, pressed his lips against your husband’s with such passion it left you stunned. And it was not at all unwelcomed, it seemed, as Simon’s hands rested on the man’s waist and returned the notion, curving his spine enough to meet the man's height more comfortably. As they embraced one another in front of you, the horror on your face quickly melted into confusion. 

“I missed you,” John muttered as his lips separated from Simon’s. 

“I’ve dreamt of this day ever since you left,” Simon countered, his voice more tender than it ever had been with you. 

But John would not be the highly acclaimed soldier that he was if he hadn’t felt the prying eyes staring at their intimate moment. Eyes as blue as the ocean turned to land on you, and your jaw slammed shut underneath his inquisitive gaze. He was not secretive in the way he looked over all your features, scanning first your face and then lower, over the curve of your hips and the hidden flesh of your thighs. While he nearly licked his lips at the sight of you, his obvious attraction did little to cover the confusion hidden in his eyes. 

“I didn’t realize we had a visitor,” John admitted humorously as he glanced at Simon. 

As you waited for your husband's response, you glanced at him in hope to receive an answer to the storm of questions that raged in your mind. But there was something different about his gaze. Rather than contentment, something else ignited in the darkness of his eyes that blazed just as bright as the forge he slaved over day and night. Whatever flat expression he normally gave you transformed into something so shining it almost looked like love. 

“She is no visitor,” he claimed with pride. “She is our wife.”

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #f!reader

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x you #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #akashi takeomi x reader #takeomi akashi x reader #sanzu x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #kakucho hitto x reader #kakucho x reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #izana kurokawa x reader #kurokawa izana x reader #manjiro sano x reader #ran haitani scenarios #haitani ran scenarios #rindou haitani headcanons #ran haitani headcanons #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo fluff #izana headcanons #izana x reader fluff #izana fluff

[tender-rosiey]

swear on love — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am alive!! better late than never but here’s my gojo coming back drabble (ceo gojo has been thrown into a corner)

something your son has learned is that if his dad, satoru, swears on his love for you then he will never break that promise.

like the first time he had asked his dad to take him to the amusement park he saw on the tv, satoru beamed, ruffling his son’s hair and telling him that he will.

when your son told him to promise him, satoru instead said, “I swear on my love for your pretty mama that I will take you there.”

it makes you flustered and makes your heart flutter—maybe even cringe a little, but who complains about having a man down bad for them plus he somehow makes it cute.

in addition to that, satoru never fails to look at you whenever he makes that promise and god knows that his gaze makes you feel weak in the knees.

he also goes to you right after, almost by instinct, to hug you and call you his ‘pretty wife’ and the ‘mother of his child’ — ‘and future ones’ he adds, but you’re quick to smack him when he does.

nonetheless, your son was quick to learn that it was the only type of promise his dad wouldn’t break.

it was october 31 when your husband has last made a promise to his son.

while the three of you were chilling in the living room, satoru was suddenly called for. he had to go to shibuya. your son was bummed, of course, but reluctantly let go of him.

“I won’t take any time buddy, don’t worry,” he said, patting your son’s head.

your son squirmed a bit before speaking up, softly, “you will come back safely, right?”

satoru simply noded with a smile.

your son, pouting –something he definitely inherited from his dad—looked up to him and stuck his pinky finger out, “you promise?”

your husband only chuckled, “I swear on my love for mama, champ.”

your son’s grin was unrivalled as he gave his dad thumbs up, “okay! I trust you!”

before departing, satoru took you in his arms and gave you one last kiss, giving you a promise of your own of coming back soon.

it has been 19 days since then.

everything has gone to chaos; everything was going wrong in all the possible ways. people you care about were dying left and right and the only thing you could do was protect your son with everything you got.

you’re often reminded of the time when your son had asked you, a week after his dad had been stuck in the prison realm, “mama, did dad break his promise?”

you could only smile sadly at him and whisper, “no, honey, he is just—going to fulfil it a bit late this time.”

now, you were with yuji, toge, shoko, and angel, along with some others, to finally get satoru of the prison realm.

yuji was a bit nervous and asked, “what if it…doesn’t work? or something happens—“

“don’t say that!”

all heads turn to your son who is barely holding his tears back, “dad said that he will be back! he promised me! he never breaks his promises!”

he looks at you, eyes pleading for assurance, “you know that, right, mama?”

tears of your own threaten to spill as you nod weakly at your son who runs and hugs you tightly, mumbling, “daddy will be back safely; I know it.”

you smile and pat his head, “I trust both of you.”

when they finally go through with the opening of the prison realm, it disappears right away.

your son’s grip on your shirt tightens as his eyes search frantically for his father everywhere around him, “where is he…?”

meanwhile, kenjaku smiles menacingly while looking at gojo, the newly freed man, “your wife and son must be pleased that you’re back, huh?”'

gojo smirks, “as am I, but I think it’s none of your business.”

both stare into each other before gojo quips, turning his back to the man, “well, I will meet you on december then!”

“oh? why is that?”

gojo stretches and walks to pick a few flowers. kenjaku is left confused as he watches the white-haired sorcerer make a bouquet.

“to put it simply, my wife and son are more important than you,” he smiles, “and I wouldn’t want to have two anniversary deaths on the same day.”

kenjaku cackles, “so you think you will win?”

satoru grins, “I will win.”

and without a word, he teleports to you.

“hey sweets!—“

you punch him in the guts and he yelps, “that’s not how you greet your husband—“

you then pull him into a very tight embrace, cutting him off once again, “I thought I lost you, asshole.”

you fist his shirt in your hand and bury your face in his chest before full on sobs escape you.

gojo’s eyes soften and he starts rubbing your back soothingly, “didn’t believe I would come back? you wound me doll.”

satoru nudges you lightly, “what do you think of the bouquet?”

you look at it and fondly roll your eyes.

he’s back.

your son runs to him screaming, “dad, you’re back! you’re back! I knew you would! i told them, but no one believed me!”

your husband picks your son up with his free arm and rests his forehead on his, “thanks for trusting me; sorry for keeping you wait.”

he’s here.

you shake your head, lightly, before nuzzling into his chest, “it’s okay…you’re here.”

“mama is right!”

satoru kisses both your foreheads before whispering, “I am here.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspenguin- @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will domain expansion yo ass

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #gojo fluff #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo headcanons #gojou satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojou #jjk gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk 221 #jjk gojo

[reallyromealone]

Title: ducky

Fandom: hazbin hotel

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Warnings: reader is Jessica rabbit coded, make reader, sexual themes, reader hates Valentino, softcore nsfw, crack treated seriously, Lucifer is a simp, reader cross dresses, reader wears lipstick, the word daddy

Notes: the amount of rewrites boy howdy

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

After every show, (name) had gifts waiting from fans.

Flowers, expensive jewelry and other things were always there but one thing always stuck out to him, an adorable rubber duck dressed like him, wearing an adorable version of the show he did previously. Todays was his pink dress, the jazz singer loved cross dressing and it seemed his admirer noticed every detail of his outfits... It had him swooning! "Oh the note!" He said looking for the rose gold paper with black ink, another joke that was corny and wishing him a good day... Oh he was so wonderful!

It was the best part of his day, really it was.

Before this, his eternity was always so drab... Singing his songs and nothing of interest happening.

"It's time" one of his security guards said seriously and (name) nodded, placing the duck in his suit pocket before leaving with the men and out the back area of the club where the limo was waiting for him.

Not before catching eyes with the one person be despised and was sadly obsessed with him, Valentino smirked as he stepped out of the limo across the street as (name) got into his own faster, not wanting to deal with him especially after a performance. He couldn't stand that moth! The demon had been obsessed with (name) for years along with his little picture box friend, he remembered when they sent him molds of their erections! Disgusting!

(Name) Made sure his driver left faster, not wanting to deal with that man any more than he needed to.

"Your father requested your presence" the driver said to (name) who looked passive "what for?" He asked as a smile found its way in his face as the driver explained about some project the demon was partaking in and wanted (name)s help, the jazz demon excited to see what was taking all his father's time these days "then let's go see, shall we?"

(Name) Was not expecting some hotel on the edge of town "Hazbin hotel?" He mumbled curiously as he walked into the hotel, his driver going on his break and (name) wasn't expecting his father to be arguing with a small blond man "papa?" He asked with a passive Expression, where Alastor smiled (name) kept passive "(name)! There you are!" Alastor said dismissing the other immediately to walk to his son "how was your show little one?" He asked his son who let out a soft huff, amused "it was quite well, what's this shindig?" He gestured to the group of people and his dad grinned.

"I have someone for you to meet"

Everyone knew who (name) was, he was on every billboard across pentagram city and Angel dust knew how obsessed Vox and Valentino were with him, throwing tantrums whenever their wooing attempts went south.

But what they didn't know was that (name) was Alastors son.

"Wait son?! Sinners can't procreate?" Charlie asked curiously as Alastor laughed robotically "he was my son when I was alive, sadly I died when he was little--"'--and I was raised by grandma!" (Name) Continued and they were curious on how (name) was in hell but decided not to prod on that and now that they looked at them, they could see the resemblances.

Height being a main one, (name) just a bit shorter than his dad.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, now why am I here?" He asked his father curiously and the radio demon grinned wider "well you see, we need someone to notice this place and what better than the most popular jazz singer in this place!" Alastor said merrily and (name) raised an eyebrow but sighed "I will on a condition" Charlie was vibrating with excitement as she nodded "whatever you want!"

"I'm looking for someone, I don't know who they are but I have a few clues" (name) pulled out the notes and the duck from his pockets "this person botherin' ya?" Husk asked suspiciously and (name) shook his head "quite the opposite actually!" Charlie and Alastor looked at each other and then the rubber duck in realization as Lucifer looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"Dad, is that your duck?" (Name) Drew his attention to the now panicking fallen angel who looked back at (name) stressed out "I think we should talk" (name) said to the blond man who followed nervously, the two going off somewhere as everyone processed what just happened.

"I can expla--" (name) stopped him with a kiss, gently holding Lucifer's face and his thumbs stroking his cheekbones before pulling back "I uh, I don't understand?" Lucifer said dumbly and (name) grinned "I never got a chance to tell you how my day was, awful rude doll~" he whispered to Lucifer and smiled at the smudged red lipstick from his performance on Lucifer's lips "s-so does this mean...?"

"Oh darling, I'm not gonna let you go... But I gotta ask, what's your name? Or should I just call you ducky?" (Name) Teased the other who looked incredibly flustered "maybe baby? Or daddy?" He teased and Lucifer was deeply confused at how this walking sex symbol was related to fucking Alastor but the kiss he was being pulled back into made him forget it all.

"They have been there awfully long" Charlie fretted and Angel dust snorted "he's related to smiles over there, god knows what's happening"

"I'm gonna check on them" she said nervously and Alastor followed, fatherly instincts kicking in as they went to the room the two wandered off too, hearing gasps and grunts and the sound of something knocking over. In a panic Charlie opened the door and Angel dust couldn't hold his laughter at Alastor and Charlie's horrified faces at the scene before them.

(Name) On-top of Lucifer with his suit half off his body and Lucifer was no better with an exposed chest and unbuttoned pants connected to (names) full lack of pants, Lucifer sporting Hickey's and red lipstick all over his body.

"DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?!" Lucifer was exasperated as the two quickly put themselves together and Charlie was traumatized at the fact she saw her dad... Like that.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #lucifer x reader #Lucifer x male reader #male reader #x male reader

[nathaslosthershit]

Interviews and Playdates (OP81)

(Part of the Teen Dad!Oscar Piastri Au) Summary: The twins have made their paddock debut! The media is asking many of the drivers about it and the kids make a friend… or two.

The twins had been unable to sit still since they woke up this morning, too excited to get to visit the paddock for the first time and finally get to see their dad race. Oscar had hoped they would finally believe that he did in fact race the cars, something the twins were still not convinced of. 

Being that it was Oscar’s home race, he had decided to fly his family out to see his home. It was an exciting moment for the whole family. 

The minute they got to the paddock, all eyes were on them. Oscar and his fiancée had warned the kids of the media and fans, that there would be screaming and a lot of people. Luckily, the noise and amount of people just made the twins shy, huddling by their parents’ legs, which the adults definitely preferred, losing the two on the paddock at their first race wouldn’t have been the best of first impressions. 

As usual, the twins had their priorities in order. Before getting to the McLaren garage, they had demanded to their father that they be able to see their honorary uncle, Logan Sargeant, who wouldn’t be racing that day.

When the twins got to the Williams garage, their favorite American was waiting to greet them, with two LS2 Williams childrens hats, as well as a bag of blue colored candy for them to share. Despite how Logan had been feeling before they had come to visit, seeing them made him feel infinitely much better. 

“Logan please, they are off naps and if we give them sugar they are going to crash. I’m not even sure they are going to stay awake long enough to make it until race time.” Oscar pleaded as he watched his longtime friend ignore him and give his kids the treats anyway.

“Oscar its fine, let him spoil them a little.” Honey, Oscar’s fiancée, said.

“Do you guys like the new hats? See the LS? That's my logo. I thought when you guys are surrounded by all the orange- sorry papaya, you’d like to be able to easily see these two with their blue hats.” Logan said, first talking to the twins then their parents. Even if half of him just wanted to have them wearing Williams and Logan merch to piss Lando off, he also thought having them sticking out would be a good idea. It was sweet how much he cared.

After the Williams visit, on the way to the McLaren garage, the Piastri family was met with the two Haas drivers with two girls hiding behind them.

“Oscar, we have two girls here who wanted to say hi to the new grid kids.” Kevin Magnessun said as he pushed his daughter in front of him.

Oscar could see the Haas media admin recording this encounter, ready to capture the cute moment on tape.

But as kids do, there wasn’t much talking between the kids as their dads talked at first, finally after a bit of convincing and nudging, once the ice was broken, they had gotten along quite well. To the point that they all had to take their kids away, kicking and screaming once they had to leave. Luckily though, they had calmed down by the time they got to the McLaren garage. 

Tired from the sugar and fighting their parents when separating from the Haas girls, the twins weren’t too enthusiastic when greeted by McLaren members, which their parents apologized tenfold for. They did luckily perk up when they saw their second favorite  honorary uncle coming towards them. 

“What the hell are these two wearing, Oscar?” Lando asked, pointing to the LS hats the kids proudly adorned. 

“We stopped by the Williams garage just cause it was on the way and got two hats from Logan, I'm sure if you had beat him to it they would be wearing your merch but I think they are too attached to them now.” It was a lie, but Oscar didn’t feel the need to tell Lando his kids pleaded to go see Logan before him. He also didn’t mention that his son said he liked the hat so much because McLaren’s orange “hurt his eyes”. 

The kids were luckily well behaved for the race, having slept through a bit of it. They were also fortunate that, due to unfortunate circumstances, Logan joined them to watch a little bit of the Grand Prix. 

The best moment however, had to be when Oscar’s daughter saw him getting out of the car and finally muttered the words, “Daddy really drives the car!” to her mother. 

With all the excitement on the paddock about the Pastri twins, it seemed the media pen was more interested in what some of the drivers had to say about it, rather than asking questions about the race.

Logan Sargeant

“So Logan, rough day for you having to give up your car, but it seems your ‘niece and nephew’ have made their paddock debut, even rocking your own merch in the McLaren garage! How was that for you?” The interviewer asked.

“Yeah, them being here and keeping me company made it all a lot better. They immediately came to Williams because according to Oscar they were demanding to see me. And they wore the LS hats the entire time even though I wasn't racing so I think that has cemented me as the favorite once again.”

Lando Norris

“So it seems you and Logan Sargeant have a bit of an off track feud going on relating to the Norris twins and who their favorite uncle is. Logan had mentioned earlier that they had begged to go to Williams to visit him, before they even got to the McLaren garage. Did you know about this?”

The smile was immediately whipped from Lando’s face at this, “I had known, yes, when they came to the garage wearing Williams hats with a bag of treats in their hand I had assumed, but Oscar told me they just stopped over on the way there. I didn’t know they had asked specifically.”

“Seems he keeps lying to you about where the twins' loyalty lies.”

“He does! Makes me look like an idiot every time he does it.” Lando scoffed, “Whatever, I will win them over somehow. Logan just has a few years head start but I’ll find a way.”

Nico Hulkenburg

“Nico, a video posted by the Haas team earlier showed you and Kevin’s girls hanging out with the Piastri twins. Is there a budding friendship there between them?”

“Yes! They met for the first time today because Kevin and I had managed to bring our girls as well. So sweet seeing them altogether. I’m glad that Noemi will have more friends here. She was already telling her mom earlier that she wanted to plan a playdate with them. Might be hard given we live in different countries but I guess we will have to find a way.”

Daniel Ricciardo

“It's been a few months since it was revealed that your fellow aussie driver is a dad, now his kids are joining us on the paddock. What were your reactions at the time?” The interviewer asks.

“Well, I hadn’t known before he addressed it that he had kids, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else did so that isn’t too much of a surprise. Definitely a shock cause he is so young but good for him. I hadn’t seen his kids but I had heard they were over playing with the Haas girls which is adorable. He must be proud to show his kids what he does.” Daniel replied.

Alex Albon

“So, it seems one of your fellow 2019 rookie seems to have beef with your teammate over who is the better uncle to the Piastri twins. Being friends with both of them, do you have any input?”

“I knew before the rumors about the whole situation because Logan accidentally told most of our team when we were all kind of teasing him about how young he is and how he might be inexperienced in childcare, to which he then showed all of us the numerous pictures and videos of the twins that he took while babysitting or visiting, which I don’t think Oscar actually knew about him telling us. But it is sweet, he takes his uncle duties very seriously. Lando on the other hand, I think Oscar has done him an injustice by not telling him he isn’t the favorite because I think if he knew he had competition he would have been working much harder. Not that he isn’t also sweet with them but I think he may have offered to watch them a few more times.”

#formula 1 imagine #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader

[aphroditesmoon]

heyy for the clarisse head cannons, maybe a enemies to lovers w clarisse

enemies to lovers hcs with clarisse

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

warnings: fighting, mild violence, kissing.

- I feel like you would probably be in athena cabin or hermes, (or whichever ur prefer)

- clarisse has a lot of people who hate her, but no one brave enough to challenge he, until she met you.

- the two of you match eachother's skills, and it's frustrating for clarisse to admit that you're actually good.

- "you really think you're all that, don't you?"

- "of course not, we both know no ones better than you, clarisse."

- you probably meant it literally, but everyone watching laughs anyway.

- everytime you spar with her, its not because you want to humiliate her but simply because you're intrigued by clarisse.

she was an angry, violent girl, and you wondered deep down if that was the only side of her that existed.

- she doesn't know that ofc.

- she thinks everytime you try to be funny or nice to her, you're just being patronizing.

- for example, when you tell her she's not that bad or try to help her up after you win she's sure that you meant it in a mocking way.

- that was until she got beef with the new kid percy jackson and he broke her spear 💀

- when you found her alone in the ares cabin while everyone's eating dinner, you tried to comfort her. she doesn't appreciate the notion.

- "you shouldn't have went after him, clarisse." you told her.

- "how was I supposed to know he was a son of the big three?" she snapped back, refusing to look anywhere else but atnthe spear.

- the cabin was sileny for a moment before yoi spoke again, "maybe you could give it over to the haphaestus kids, they could fix it."

- "this is a magical spear, not a normal one." she answers back.

- she assumed you came to gloat, to tell her she deserved it, to call her a bully like everyone else did, but she was weirdly comforted by your presence instead. she didn't have to lie or pretend to be strong in front of you, something she learned of after a few months in of sparring with you is that you wouldn't hit someone during their weakest.

- "I remember the first gift my mom/dad gave me when I first got here. a knife, It meant so much to me, but I didn't know that it wasn't invincible, I broke it while trying to pull it out of a tree after I accidentally staked it into."

- clarisse was quiet for a moment before turning to you with a frown and said: "that's so stupid."

- you smiled at her and nodded your head. "yeah it was." she smiled back at you and shook her head. "I can't believe thats the same person who beat my ass last week."

- your eyes widened. "I can't believe you're actually admitting that I've beat your ass." she scoffed at that.

- "how did it end up in the tree anyways?" She asked. you blinked for a few times and reluctantly responded, "I tried to carve my name onto the tree." you could tell clarisse was so baffled by it that she wanted to laugh, but instead she just stared at you with her mouth wide open.

- "thats-" "stupid, yeah, you already said that."

- "carving your name on a tree? really? what, were you 10 years old or something?"

- you were 10. "I was 10 actually." "oh." her face relaxed, all of it finally making sense.

- "anyways, what I mean is, at least your spear went out in a fight. I'm sure your father must be really proud of you."

- clarisse looked away immediately, as if the idea of her father at all, hurted her.

- "you know nothing about my father."

- you shrugged and sat next to her on her bed. "I don't, but I know you. and I'd say you did pretty damn well.".

- you expected her to snap at you again, that was her thing, confronted by kindness or any kind of empathy, fight or flight. but instead she smiled sadly at you. "you think so?"

- you answered yes and inched closer to her. "everyone at camp is either scared of you, or they respect you. that respect didn't come out of nowhere."

- clarisse nodded her head, staring back down at the spear on her lap. "do you really think they can fix it?"

- "it's worth a try." you told her.

- the next time you see her was the following day after she and the other cabin leaders were gathered together for Percy to choose for his quest.

- you noticed she still tries ti act cold with you, but she was less meaner than before.

- "chiron gathered the best of the best to join the quest." she had told you when you asked her where she went.

- "and he asked you to be there?"

- "what, you don't think im good all of the sudden?" she asks, glaring at you.

- you rolled your eyes at her. "I know you're good, but I also know that you tried to kill Percy yesterday, not exactly team spirit is it?"

- she considered it for a moment and shrugged. "who cares, at least that punk will be gone for a while. everything can go back to normal." you follow her as she walked out of the cabin with a normal spear.

- "normal as in?"

- "normal as in, I'm going to kick your ass."

- the two of you sparred for an hour and a half, you wont say that you were holding back today, but you weren't exactly giving her your all. you liked to see the eay she smiled everytime she won, even if it was annoyingly smug.

- that same night, rumors were going around that clarisse was going soft. breaking her infamous spear, befriending her nemesis.

- "we're not friends," she told her cabin siblings. "It's not my fault she's obsessed with me."

- when word got out about what she said, you decided that maybe trying to get to know clarisse was a bad idea. not really being the confrontational kind of person, you just stopped talkiing to her.

- it was a few days later when she went out of her way to find you. all the cabins were in disarray. they were all choosing sides between zeus and poseidon after the news broke that the two powerful gods we're against eachother.

- uncharacteristically, clarisse aided with poseidon. she weighed her choices as cabin leader and daughter of ares and decided it was the best option

- (if you're a daughter of athena) then, you sided with zeus. athena is known to having feud with the god poseidon, and you would side your mother.

- (if you're in the other cabins), then you just use the feud as an excuse to not talk to her, claiming that all kinds of provocative interaction should be kept om a liminal time.

- clarisse found you in the bathroom and tried to get you to listen to her.

- "you're saying that this feud bothers you so much that you've just completely stopped talking to me?"

- "I think, that I'd like to stop being so obsessed with you, considering it was you who said that you wanted me out of your hair."

- she chased after you as you walked out of the bathroom and pulled you to the side.

- " I didn't mean it that way." she was lying and you both knew that.

- "you know what your problem is clarisse? you care so much of what other people think of you, what their perception of you is like. people who wouldn't blink twice if you were in danger. but what about the people who do care about you? the people who want to keep caring about you?"

- your words caught her off guard, she knew it was her fault but she didn't think as far as you had said.

- "I care about you too." she says honestly.

- "you don't hurt people you care about." and she knew that. she knew what it felt like to be scorned and hated by the person you love. and clarisse la rue, will not be like her father.

- "give me one chance to make it up to you, let us start over again." she pleaded.

- you might resent her for what she had done, but that doesn't mean you're immune to her wishes. "one chance."

- "one chance." she agreed.

- the next day, while everyone was out practising, she finda you helping a younger girl in your camp with her stance in fighting and called you to the side.

- "I got something for you." she said.

- the two of you walked a bit further away from other people but she stopped and pull out something from her pocket.

- "the haphaestus kids couldn't fix my spear, but I did get them to work out something new for you."

- it was a knife, similar to your old on2, but the engraved heart shape on the black holder was different. The holder was made if rubbee, easier to grip, and the tip was sharper than anything you've seen.

- "this is for me?" she nodded and placed it into your right palm.

- "it's not magical, but it'll be useful."

- you did not hesitate to pull her by the back of her head to lean down and meet your lips halfway.

- and she did not hesitate to wrap her own arms around your nwck and waist to kiss you back just as strongly.

- "I'm gonna get laughed at for this aren't I?" she muttered against your lips as she pulls away slightly.

- "not something you can't handle." you decided with a small smile on your lips.

- "right, definitely not something I can't handle." she agreed.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #the lightning thief #dior goodjohn #wlw

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

HEARTBREAKER — CHAPTER 02

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n is challenged by campers and her growing feelings for luke castellan.

author's note thank you for all the support on this series! i made a masterlist here so you can easily find the parts <3 as always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist and lmk your thoughts :)

→ installment of this au read for context

Luke Castellan found it increasingly harder and harder to hide his feelings for you. He could no longer make eye contact with you without his face turning an embarrassing shade of red. In fact, he could hardly look at your face because somehow his eyes would always end up darting toward your lips, or even lower if you were wearing a certain tank top that day. 

“My eyes are up here, Castellan,” you quipped at him once. 

Quite frankly, it was ruining his own reputation around camp as the best swordsman and a stoic warrior. If word got out that he fell to his knees at the hands of an Ares girl, what would people think of him? 

As stories of your excellent skills got around, so did rumors about you. Everyone was interested to hear whose heart you had broken next, all because of that first fateful incident with a camper named Connor. 

Connor, son of Apollo, thought that he could challenge you to an archery competition. He had bet that if he won, he could take you out on a date. How could you resist the urge to prove him wrong?

A small crowd had gathered to watch the two of you. Some people rooted for Connor, trusting that his combat skills would be stronger because of his father. However, the innate strength and talent from your own godly father allowed you to become familiar with the bow and arrow rather quickly. 

“Careful, or one of your siblings will have to heal you later,” you warned. 

“Oh, I think you’re the one that’s going to end up at my cabin later,” Connor responded snarkily. 

You hated losing. It wasn’t an option for you. You didn’t care that Connor technically had the upper hand here, you were going to beat him regardless. 

The rules were simple: there were four targets. Whoever hit the most points, won. 

Connor went first, hitting an impressive 34 points. 

“Beat that, pretty girl.”

You tried not to cringe at his nickname for you, and confidently walked up to the front. You quickly scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the brunette-haired boy you didn't realize you were looking for. Luke smiled at you, and suddenly everyone else faded away.

Turning back toward the targets, you lined up your bow and arrow and took the first shot. You hit eight points, which was not bad, but you were going to have to do better in order to win.

Trying to hone in on your training, you closed your eyes for the next shot and trusted your instincts. You heard the arrow hitting wood and before you could open your eyes, cheers had erupted from the crowd. Bullseye. 

With 17 points left to beat Connor, you had to hit at least another bullseye. And you did just that. 

Turning to Connor, you said, “Any last words before I take this final shot?” 

“What time am I picking you up tonight?” he said, not losing hope just yet. You had to give it to him and his tireless persistence. 

Your eyes focused in on the last target, until all you could see was the gold center. It kind of looked like the sun, and reminded you of a certain someone. You released the arrow, but at the last second felt your finger flinch.

Shit, you thought. But the crowd had already begun cheering again, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You had hit eight on the last one, just enough to win. 

“Okay, who’s next?” you declared triumphantly, not missing the disappointed look on Connor's face.

After the competition, Luke walked over to congratulate you on your win. 

“Hey, that was sick!” He placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, thanks!”

“You’re not beating yourself up over that last one, are you?”

“Wh- how’d you know?” You were silently cursing yourself for not making that last bullseye and blowing Connor completely out of the water. 

“I know you, Y/N. Don’t look so surprised.” 

“Okay, well, what am I thinking right now?”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to be lost in thought. “Dinner?”

“You know me so well.” 

Ever since then, various people at camp had challenged you to their own duels in an effort to ask you out, just for you to beat them time and time again.

You weren’t sure why anyone thought you would be interested in them, when you had not once expressed a want for any sort of romantic entanglements. Because that’s all they were to you, entanglements. Complicated messes that were hard to get out of.

“Okay, I need boy advice,” Annabeth announced.

“No,” you responded. This was the first of many sleepovers you, her, and Clarisse would have together. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s my advice, do yourself a favor and just don’t.” 

“Okay, what’s the story?” the young girl asked. 

“I dated this guy once. Long story short, all men do is disappoint you. It’s not worth it.” 

“I second that,” Clarisse joined in. 

“Wait- who do you like?” you asked, processing Annabeth’s original question.

“Oh, forget it. I’m not gonna tell you guys now,” she responded.

“No, you have to tell us!” Clarisse insisted. 

When Annabeth didn’t respond, you and Clarisse began throwing pillows at her. 

“Stop! Stop!” she giggled. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you guys.” 

You and Clarisse waited with baited breath as Annabeth formed his name in her mouth. “Percy.”

Chaos ensued. You’re pretty sure that you squealed loud enough to break glass and Clarisse nearly woke up the cabin on the other side of camp. Luckily for you guys, it was a weekend that many of the campers had gone home for. 

“Why are you guys cheering?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“Because we’re happy for you! Your first crush is so exciting!” Clarisse said.

Annabeth had always been like a younger sister to you and Clarisse, and you couldn’t help but be happy for her, despite your personal feelings about love. 

“Y/N, what do you think?” Annabeth turned to you. 

“I think you don’t even need our advice. Just be yourself, I’m sure he already thinks you’re amazing.” 

The young girl beamed at you. “I thought you were anti-boys.”

“I am, if it were up to me, there would be no boys here.” 

“Not even Luke?” Annabeth asked, feigning innocence.

“Well, is he a boy?” you responded.

“Yeah, but not just any boy….” Clarisse joined in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sat up on your elbows in bed. 

“Y/N, just admit it! He’s different!” Annabeth said.

“No, he’s still just a boy,” you said, trying to convince them, or yourself. 

Annabeth and Clarisse looked at each other knowingly, but dropped the subject before upsetting you further. 

The truth was, the thought of Luke Castellan terrified you. 

At first, you didn’t want to admit it. There was no way Luke Castellan liked you, and there was absolutely no way that you liked him back. Not in any universe, above or on earth. Not after you had made it your whole mission to swear off boys completely. 

Sure, you constantly picked each other as partners in Capture the Flag, sat next to each other over bonfires, and talked to each other everyday, but nothing friends didn’t do. 

You tried to be oblivious to his longing glances at you, the way his face lit up when he saw you, but Annabeth and Clarisse were not shy in pointing out each time he smiled at you like you hung the moon and stars. 

For years, Luke had repressed his emotions for fear of being perceived as weak. But each time you came around, he wondered if love could even be equated to weakness if he had never felt anything stronger. 

Liked by lukecastellan and 170 others.

tagged annaaabeth and clarisse

ynuser with the girls 🏹💕

view all comments.

annaaabeth love youuu

clarisse so much fun!

lukecastellan ur foul for that last pic

ynuser whose side are you on

percyjackson second pic is me to you when i don't get invited to the sleepover :(

—

TAGLIST: @ravisinghs-wife @jules-loves-lukecastellan @favreader23 @clydeisalsoellie @yuminako @luxreziaa @eddiesdrummergf @whataprettyshadeofred @grace-928 @girls-and-guts @supercutszns @noodlesketchbook @birdiewriteslit @mitskiswift99 @idontevencare1223 @randomnpc456 @lucycarlisleswife @angelicdanvers @imguce @anitatvd (please lmk if you want to be added or i missed you!)

#bad rep series #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x you

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve’s mother was the black sheep of her family.

Stella hated the snow, and the isolation of the small town she grew up in. Hated the bright colors, and sheer friendliness of the neighbors. How everyone was always involved in each other’s business, at all times--and how getting involved meant sharing.

Giving up your time for the greater good.

‘We’re one big family!’ Her father had told her, and hadn’t understood why she found the concept utterly revolting.

Just like she couldn’t understand why they never agreed with her ideas. Things would run so much more smoothly with more rules, better regulations. They didn’t need to rely on magic when they had spreadsheets.

Who cared if some people were upset? If some of the workers where put out of jobs, or “hurt” by her changes?

That was how evolution worked.

The strongest survived, and the business world demanded only the strongest of leaders.

She didn’t regret leaving.

Didn’t look behind her for a second, all too happy to go to college and find herself a rich man to make miserable.

Even had a child, though they were never her favorite things. Her Steven of course, would be so much different from the children she’d grown up among or the ones she helped oversee for her father's work.

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t shriek or scream or make demands of busy adults. Steven would know his place, and he would stay in it until he had grown into a reasonable adult.

No unrealistic expectations, not from her son.

And absolutely, 100%, no magic.

(Unfortunately for Stella Harrington and her relationship with her son, magic does not obey the whims of one person.

Particularly not that kind of magic, one far older than Stella could comprehend.)

See: Steve knew where he came from. Would never say it of course, outright refused to put a name to it.

Knew better, even when he was young, than to speak it aloud.

Though his mother had long abandoned any powers given to her, Steve was still born with his. When lonely, he often found he could wander into a different kind of woods. 

One absolutely covered in snow.

Steve should have been cold in those woods, but he never was, not even the first time he stumbled into them at the tender age of seven.

These trees never scared him. Not like the ones in his backyard sometimes did.

The whole place felt rather welcoming in a way his own house had never been, and as Steve had stumbled along following the faint glow of lights, he found himself feeling more relaxed.

Happy.

Even at seven, Steve was smart enough to know he needed to turn back, after a while. That his mother would be furious with him if he caused her to miss the meeting she needed to go to.

That he had a responsibility to be where she put him.

He hadn’t crested the hill yet. Hadn’t quite figured out where the glow was coming from, when he realized he needed to go home--but his trip wasn’t wasted.

A baby reindeer distracted him.

It peeked around a tree, and upon seeing him, came dashing his way.

Steve should be scared, would have been scared, but something in him told him this creature was his friend. He held out his hands and greeted it as such.

He was right.

A few more little reindeer came up over the hill, running around him, and together he played what felt like a game as he walked back in the direction he thought his house lay.

Said his goodbyes when the snow started to wane and made promises to return.

Found, sadly, that he wouldn’t get another chance too for almost a full year. He was too busy, signed up for multiple sports, handed over to tutors and taught life skills by a parade of nannies, none of whom ever stayed for long.

He dreamed of the snow.

The gentle way the woods felt.

It was what made him tell the lie that let him go back.

Steve was eight by then, and smart to how his parents and nannies worked. That some of them overlapped their stays when his parents went away.

So it was easy to tell Mary that she could go.

That it was okay, really. Carla had just called, she was on her way.

Just like it was easy to tell Carla that his parents' plans had changed. Let her know she wasn’t needed after all.

What harm would it do if he was alone for a night? His father kept telling him he was a big boy. Soon he’d be on his own anyway.

The snow found him faster this time, when he went for his walk in the woods.

Delighted, Steve kept an eye out for the reindeer, fingers skittering across tree bark as he looked around, once again tracking the soft glow that came up over the hill.

It was a long walk to that light, but Steve didn’t mind.

Not until he heard the crying.

“Hello?” Steve called, voice prim and proper as always. It was a little high--Tommy teased him endlessly about it, but he had been assured it would deepen.

The crying didn’t stop, but things got quiet for a moment, in the way that happens when someone was trying hard not to be found.

(Steve knew exactly how that felt, not wanting to be found. Wanting to cry for a moment, without someone telling you to toughen up, be a man, ‘God Steven you’re too old for all this--’)

“It’s okay!” Steve rushed out, trying to locate where the muffled sounds were coming from before they ran away. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

Which is right about when he almost tripped over the other kid.

He was hunched against a tree, knees drawn into his chest with brown hair hanging into his eyes. His clothes were a odd--a little like how his teacher had made Steve dress when they’d done a play about the middle ages.

“Who’re you?” The boy asked defensively, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“I’m Steve.” He said, before kneeling down himself. “Did you get hurt?”

“No.” The boy sniffled. After a moment he added; “M’ Eddie.”

His eyes were large, and reminded Steve of a puppy he once saw. All cute and round and shiny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” The boy said and it wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t friendly.

“I’m not from around here.” Steve told him. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

It was kind of hard to know, given Steve wasn’t sure where here was, exactly--and absolutely knew better than to ask his parents.

“Well then you should go home.” The boy sniffled again.

Steve wasn't put off by it. Tommy had been a lot meaner than this after all, when they'd first met. 

Given their parents made them play together anyways, Steve felt he he could get this kid to like him too. 

"I'm gonna, later. I'm looking for something right now though--you wanna come?" 

Which he felt was a pretty nice offer. Might distract Eddie from whatever was bothering him.

(Steve liked distractions, when he was upset. It made it a lot easier to swallow down the bad feelings.) 

“You shouldn’t hang around me.” Eddie said suddenly. His nose was as red as his eyes, and he refused to look Steve in the eye as he hunched further into himself. “I’m bad.”

“You’re not bad.” Steve told him. 

He got a glare for it.

“How would you know?”

“I dunno.” Steve stopped, brows furrowing in thought. “I just--kinda do. I always have.”

Which was true. Steve was awfully good at identifying who was good and who was bad, from adults to his fellow classmates. It had gotten him in trouble before his mother had sat him down, and told him he just had a good business sense.

That he needed to keep to himself who was good and who was bad, especially the adults, because it wasn’t his place to say such things.

(‘But it’ll serve you well in the future.’ His mother told him, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind his ear. ‘Particularly for business deals.’)

“Well you’re wrong then, because I was born bad.” Eddie scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. “Everyone says so!”

It was dramatic as hell, and Steve couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him.

“I’m sorry!” He said immediately, when Eddie’s face flushed angrily. “I’m sorry it’s just--you look kinda silly.”

He mimed Eddie’s stance for a moment, including a dramatic little huff of breath. It unbalanced him, and Steve ended up dropping on his butt, which made him to laugh even louder.

“No one who does that can be bad.” He said finally, through the giggles. 

“That’s--stupid. You’re stupid.” Eddie said, except he was clearly trying to hide his own laugh at Steve’s antics.

“I’m not stupid--and you’re not bad. I promise.” Steve said, before reaching out a hand, one pinkie extended. “I’ll swear on it.”

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asked him, but he didn’t sound sad now. More curious. 

Curious Steve knew, was a lot better than sad. 

“You wrap your pinkie finger with mine. Then it’s a pinkie swear, which is like--unbreakable!”

That’s what Carol had told him at least, and so far it had held true. Steve figured it must work doubly so, in a place like this.

Cautiously, Eddie reached out, entwining his pinkie with Steve’s. Like any minute Steve would snatch his hand back, and tell him it was all a joke.

Instead, Steve bobbed their hands up and down once, before letting go and asking; “Do you wanna go find that light with me? I wanna see what it is.”

He pointed up the hill, toward the glow that had haunted his dreams.”

“Oh that’s boring.“ Eddie told him, but he had a grin on his face that felt infectious. “It’s just the town. I’ll show you something way better!”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, and let Eddie snatch his wrist, launching to his feet and bringing Steve with him.

In doing so his hair blew, revealing that he had pointed ears.

Steve stared at them in awe as Eddie tugged him further into the trees, until they burst into a clearing filled with gingerbread houses. They ranged from teeny tiny, to large enough that Steve and Eddie could walk in them, and it wasn’t long before the two started a game of tag, broken only by laughter. 

In retrospect, this was his downfall.

Because the little gingerbread houses were really cool, and Eddie was a lot of fun. It was easy to play with him--like the two of them had been made for each other.

Steve had never connected like this with a person before. Never had so much fun with someone before.

Not even with Tommy and Carol, his very best friends.

Eddie seemed to feel the same way, and not even an hour into meeting him, Steve knew he would remember this for the rest of his life.

Remember Eddie.

Steve ended up losing track of time. Stayed so long that his lie was discovered.

The person who came looking for him wasn’t his parents, but looked weirdly like his mom--if his mom were a boy.

He introduced himself as Steve’s Uncle Nick after he called the two boys to him, hands on his hips in a way Steve kind of wanted to mimic.

Steve knew it to be true, in the same way he knew how to find the forest, and if someone was good or bad. A feeling inside him he could tap into, warm and fuzzy in a way that, should he ever be pressed, he might admit to feeling like magic.

“Now how did you get here?” Uncle Nick asked him, like Steve's presence was a surprising little puzzle.

Knowing better than to lie, sensing that his Uncle would be able to tell if he did anyways, Steve told him the truth.

It got him exactly what he expected, which was an upset adult.

Unlike his mom or dad however, his Uncle didn’t yell at him, or grab Steve’s hand in a punishing grip. No nails dug into his skin, no harsh words were hissed. Uncle Nick simply pinched the tip of his nose, before giving a sigh that shook his massive frame.

“Your mom is going to be very upset.” He said finally.

Like Steve didn't know. 

“I just wanted to see the lights.”

“The lights--oh.” Uncle Nick glanced over his shoulder. “Could you see them from your house?”

Steve shook his head.

“No but I could feel them.”

Like a pulse in his chest. A compass, or--a guide.

“He says he can tell who's naughty or nice.” Eddie chimed in, oddly quiet for how loud he had been. “He says I’m good.”

This was said as a challenge, and Steve eyed his new friend out of the corner of his eye. He’d never dared speak to an adult like that, and was both a little in awe of Eddie doing it, and afraid for him.

Something his Uncle seemed to sense.

“Edward, go home.” He said, firm but kind.  Not like how Steve's mom was when she was mad, or his dad when he had a bad day at work.“I’ll come talk to you later. Come on Steve, let me walk you back. I best explain this in person.”

Then he took Steve’s hand in his, while Steve called out a goodbye to Eddie over his shoulder.

“You’ll come back and visit, right!?” Eddie yelled back. 

Steve shouted an affirmative, even knowing it wasn’t likely he’d be allowed.

(Wished with all his heart, that he'd be allowed.) 

“Eddie is really good, you know.” Steve said once he no longer could see his new friend, because it felt important to tell his Uncle that. Necessary, for some reason.

“I know.” Uncle Nick replied gently. “But let’s not worry about him right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then they were back in Steve’s woods, the ones that were sometimes unfriendly. In his backyard, and up to the door, and even from here Steve could hear his mother and father screaming at each other, in a tone that made his stomach curl.

“Come on kiddo. Time to face the music.” Uncle Nick told him, and Steve found he really didn’t want to let go of his Uncle’s hand.

He did though.

He was a big boy, and well trained. He didn’t flinch from his parents. Didn’t disobey when his mother demanded he tell her exactly how he got to the fun place, with all the snow--and listened further still when she demanded Uncle Nick take it out of him.

Take what Steve didn’t know--not until his Uncle lost the argument.

Reached into Steve’s chest and did something to him, something that killed that warm and fuzzy thing that had always lived inside Steve.

He cried harder than he ever had before that night. Cried and begged for Uncle Nick to put it back, that he was sorry and he wouldn’t ever use it again if they just let him keep it.

(He promised, he promised, he promised-!)

Sank to his knees and told his parents that it hurt.

They didn't listen, and they didn't put it back.

His father told him to get up off the floor, and then pulled him up when Steve found he couldn’t.

Hauled him to his room, even as his Uncle warned his mother that he couldn’t get rid of it. That he could only suppress it, the same way she suppressed hers, but those words didn’t really matter to Steve just then.

Not when he was hurting, and tired, and found himself wishing for his new friend.

(His mother told him he’d feel better in time.

Steve never did.)

xXx

The hole in Steve’s chest had never filled.

It kept him up at night. The yearning for something just out of reach, tormenting him with a feeling of being hollow.

He didn’t know how his mother could stand it.

Steve stopped fussing about it though--or rather, he stopped the first time his father had slapped him over his complaining.

“Enough, Steven! You’re perfectly fine. Now start acting like it, for fucks sake!” He’d roared, and shocked as he was, Steve had still done what he’d been taught to do.

Toughed it out. Sucked it up. Got over it.

Dumped his entire life into basketball and swimming and other parent-approved activities, even if he felt empty.

He was eight, then ten, then fourteen and soon Steve wasn’t healed, but he'd adjusted. 

Got aloof to the pain as his popularity skyrocketed, and his parents left him on his own while they chased the almighty dollar.

(Secretly, Steve tried to fill the void in his heart with parties and people, alcohol and even the occasional drug, though most just left him feeling worse than before.

It was perhaps how he ended up acting as he did.

Turning from the sweet boy who was always helping others, to someone who was fast with their insults. Popularity was a sharks game, and though he refused to participate in the bullying his friends enjoyed, he made sure everyone knew who the biggest fish in the pond was.

Because the hole was always there, in the back of his mind. The thing inside him that was missing, that made him crave the snow, and the lights, and the boy with pointy ears. 

He might be able to force himself to forget about all of that, if only the hole in his heart would allow him.)

xXx

Five days before his fifteenth birthday, some random guy showed up in Steve’s yard.

This wasn’t unusual--Steve invited a lot of people over.

Tommy and Carol both had a standing invitation to use his pool and Steve often used it to curry favor with the upperclassmen--but even underwater, Steve didn’t recognize the teenager leaning over to watch him swim.

Plus it was a little weird for someone to pop up on a Sunday.

Refusing to be intimidated, Steve surfaced right under the guy, head whipping up to make sure he splashed him in the face.

Laughed as the other guy sputtered.

“Can I help you man?” Steve drawled, hooking his arms on the lip of the pool.

“I’m looking for someone. Steve Harrington?” The guy told him, glaring as he wiped water off his face.

His hair just touched his shoulders, in that awkward stage of growing out that made him look like a pageboy.

Steve tucked that little observation away for later, in case he needed it.

“Congratulations, you found me.” He said, eyeing him over.

Black jeans with holes in the knees, wallet chain and a black shirt with a faded logo of some band Steve had never heard of proudly displayed. A checkered plaid shirt topped the whole outfit, with a red guitar pick dangling around his neck from a chain.

Like the guy thought he was some kind of rockstar, and not in bumfuck Indiana.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Though I think you’re in the wrong place. The audition for the new town jester is being held at the high school.”

He got a frown, like the guy knew he was being insulted but didn’t quite want to believe it. “I’m not here for an audition.”

“You sure? Cause you’re definitely dressed the part.”

“Okay, you are definitely not Steve.” He said, arms crossing his chest. He had a ring on each hand, catching the light as he clutched at his arms. “Steve wasn’t this much of a dick.”

Which wasn’t the first time Steve had been called out for his behavior--but it had never been by the people he was supposed to care about.

Those people, the people his parents liked?

They loved it.

“Times change.” Steve told the stranger. Kept his tone light and playful, the way that always made girls giggle at him and guy’s listen.

Well the ones he wasn’t making fun of, anyways.

“People do too.”

He rearranged himself, planting both palms flat against the concrete, bouncing once to build energy before rocketing out of the water.

Stood, and watched with interest as the new guy’s eyes raked over his naked torso, before his whole face flushed red.

How he looked away, like he suddenly couldn’t bare to look at Steve.

“You shouldn't have changed that much.” He muttered, but Steve already had his number.

"Why were you looking for me anyway?” Steve asked as he went and grabbed a towel. Wrapped it around his waist, but kept his upper body shirtless.

Idly scratched at his hip and watched as the guy acted like Steve had practically stripped naked in front of him.

Weirdly enjoyed the little spark it gave him, to watch this guy appear so affected by his bare chest.

Defensive, the stranger bit out; “We were friends. I haven’t seen him in a long time, I was just checking up on him.”

That made Steve pause.

Really look over the guy standing before him.

The fidgeting, the blushing, the way he avoided Steve’s gaze.

He opened his mouth, an odd urge to draw this out guiding him when the hole in his chest pulsed.

Like a convulsion, a miniature seizure that took Steve entirely by surprise.

It had been a long time since it had done that, long enough to throw Steve off his game.

Make him feel unsafe, unmoored.

Abandoned.

“Yeah?” He wheezed, before covering himself and the flood of wrong/want/need with a harsh cough. “Well now I know you’re definitely barking up the wrong tree. I’d never be friends with a fucking queer.”

At that, the guy’s mouth dropped open, head whipping around to stare at Steve in shock.

"Don’t deny it, I can tell. You’re practically drooling over there.” Steve smiled with all his teeth, even as he struggled to keep his breath even. “It’s disgusting.”

“You know what, fuck you. I thought you were different and you’re not.” The stranger spat, with far more venom than Steve was prepared for. “You’re the same as all the rest.”

He scoffed, before whirling on his heel, middle finger high in the air as he stormed off into the woods.

“Have fun with your sad, beige fucking life!” He yelled, voice a little choked up.

“I will!” Steve yelled back at him, oddly heated.

Rubbed his chest when he was gone, before sitting down to try and figure out what the hell just happened--and why the hell his chest hurt so much.

xXx

Steve’s life remained completely and painfully normal--until Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy and her smile, Nancy and her reminder of what it felt like to be loved. 

She didn’t fill the void inside him, but what she did came close.

Felt similar.

Steve found he’d do anything for her, looking at life once again through the lens he had back when he was seven.

It was great.

Better than great--it was the best he’d ever been.

Then Barb went missing.

Shit hit the fan so fast that in retrospect, Steve still doesn’t understand it. There was Jonathan and his camera, with the background of his missing little brother. Tommy and his insults, grabbing Steve up by the collar. Nancy being weird, Nancy ducking him to hang out with the guy who took photographs of them having sex.

Steve's brain tracks it all in little snapshots. The way he realized that maybe Nancy was right--he was way more of an asshole than he thought. How he decided to clean the theater, and then apologize to Jonathan.

(Creepy shit or not, Jonathan’s brother was gone. Steve had never had a brother, but he understood how it felt when something important was taken from you.

How it made you act after.)

There was a shift inside him. Not coming from the void, but from how Steve dealt with it.

And then there was a fucking monster coming out of the ceiling.

This is how Steve learns the magic he once had wasn’t special. That it’s not the only supernatural thing that exists in the world.

Only unlike the snow and gingerbread house and boy with pointed ears and an Uncle that looked a hell of a lot like Santa Clause, this version came with evil government laboratories, the Upside Down and his girlfriend holding a gun.

It was kind of a lot, really.

Particularly because his parents weren’t home.

(They still came home of course, but it wasn’t with the same frequency as it used to be.

The business trips went from once a month, to every other week, to long stretches of away periods. Long enough that Steve spoke to them over the phone more than he did in person, and knew more about business mergers than he ever cared too.

Also his fathers love life, courtesy of his drunk mother.)

Steve didn’t exactly handle it well.

Doesn’t think any of them handled it well, really, even if Nancy blamed him for trying to pretend he was okay. But right as their relationship blew up in Steve’s face, shit started happening again.

Flickering lights and freaky monsters. A group of kids Steve found himself in charge of, who were doing their level best to commit suicide.

(“We’re helping El and Will, idiot!” Mike Wheeler protested in the back of Billy Hargrove’s Camaro when Steve brought up that this was not what being benched meant, and Steve let him have that one given the way the world was spinning.

God that asshole hit like a train.)

Another snapshot, full of fear and fury, and things were over once again. 

Steve was telling Nancy it was okay. She could go with Jonathan, that he could tell it was what she wanted.

It hurt him to do it, but he wasn’t going to be like his own parents.

Realized with a weird amount of clarity, that he wanted to be the very opposite of his parents.

Late in the night, feeling every ache and pain in his body but knowing everyone was safe, Steve finally started the long trek home. 

He didn’t have his car (he hoped that was still at the Byers place) and he didn’t have his keys (no clue where those went but he was praying it wasn’t in the freaky tunnels) and was well into the middle of his walk when his chest started acting weird. Really weird. 

Steve ignored it.

He kept ignoring it, focused on getting back to his bed, and his bed alone.

(Maybe he had been thinking more than that. About how the last time he had truly been happy wasn’t with Nancy, but with Eddie. That he’d give anything to go play in the gingerbread houses again.

Maybe he was even thinking of how warm his Uncle had been, the way he was so gentle when he held Steve’s hand.

How he’d argued against Steve’s parents, when no one else ever did.

It was probably just the head injury.)

Unfortunately--or fortunately, depending on who you asked later--the weird feeling didn't stop.

It grew and grew, until it felt like something was breaking out of him.

Like a cough you’d long suppressed that crawled forcefully up and out of your throat, it both hurt and felt amazing, a pang echoing out through his very core--

Then suddenly there was snow on the trees and Steve was stumbling into a teenager with fluffy hair.

“Sorry.” He muttered, right before he went down on his knees.

“What the hell---” Fluffy haired guy said, spinning around and looking at Steve like he was a ghost. “Oh shit, are you okay!?”

“I’m fine.” Steve lied, even as he gave in and laid down.

Man, this snow was nice.

Comfy and soft, and cold on his face.

There was a string of curses coming from above him, and Steve made the effort to twist his head so he could watch fluffy hair kneel frantically next to him.

“ What happened!? How did you get here!?”

“S’long story man.” Steve slurred, feeling bad and looking worse. His head fucking hurt.

“Don’t suppose there’s a guy named Eddie around? He has uh,” Steve fumbled, hands trying to point to his ears. “Pointed. You know.”

He gestured to his own ear again.

(Figured he might as well ask, given all the snow.)

The Fluffy Hair pulled said hair back at that, revealing his very own pointy ear. “Dude you’re in the North Pole, all us elves have pointy ears.”

The North Pole.

The words Steve had only ever dared to think, and never said out loud.

“Cool.” He said instead, not really feeling like he was inside his own body.

“Just--stay there, okay? My name's Gareth I’m gonna go get someone.” Gareth the elf (an elf, wasn’t that a trip. Did that mean Eddie was also an elf?) said, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, before he darted off, out of Steve’s sight.

“Can you get Eddie?” The question came out in a whine, the hurt in Steve’s chest overtaken by the pain in his head.

He didn’t get an answer.

Which was okay, he thought.

He didn’t really need one.

He had the snow, and the woods that weren’t straight out of a fucking nightmare, and, he could just sleep right here…

“Steve!”

He blinked, and found he must have passed out.

“There you are. Stay with me.” A blurry face was saying. A couple more blinks brought it into focus, and Steve knew this person, even if he couldn't put a name to a face.

The hair was longer, and there were more rings on his fingers, ones Steve could both see and feel as a hand ran along the back of his head.

Worried doe eyes met Steve's own, and just through the curtain of curls, he caught the outline of a pointed ear.

“Ed--ie?” He croaked, unsure.

“Yeah Stevie, it's me. You're okay, we brought you back to my place. Gareth is getting help.”

He was trying to sound reassuring but he mostly just sounded worried.

Not that Steve cared, because he finally figured out why older Eddie was familiar.

“Oh.” He managed, the words feeling like he had to push out. “It was you. By the--pool.”

“What?”

It felt like eons ago. The weird guy, asking after him. Back when Steve had been doing anything he could to fill the void his magic had left behind, and turned into a raging shithead as a result.

“M sorry.” Steve slurred, voice cracking in its honesty. “I was--asshole. M'sorry.”

The look Eddie gave him was wild. Like he couldn’t believe Steve was here, and definitely couldn’t believe Steve was apologizing.

Which was fair. Until last year Steve wouldn’t have ever apologized, to anyone, ever. 

“Yeah you were, but we can talk about it later. Right now I just need you to stay awake.” Eddie said instead. It was gentle, a lot more gentle than Steve felt he deserved.

It made him want to explain, more than anything, what had happened.

“I was tryin to fix…the hole. Inside.” Steve needed Eddie to understand. Needed it more than breathing, just then.

“I know, big boy.” Eddie soothed, and his hands were back in Steve’s hair.

It felt nice.

“S’not an excuse, promise it's not. I was hurt--hurting, and--I was mean.” Steve continued. It was getting harder to think, the world swimming in and out of focus, but this was important.

Perhaps the most important thing he’d done in a long time, sans saving the kids from the demodogs.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I didn’t get it back then but I understand better now and…”

He might have said something more. Steve thinks he was, but then Eddie was shaking him harshly, and Steve realized he might have tried to pass back out.

“Come on Stevie, sweetheart, you can’t sleep right now. You have to stay awake for me, okay? Steve?”

Steve tried to shake his head and hissed when he found out how much that hurt. Breathed in and out through the pain, before his brain connected back to what he’d been trying to say.

“Not jus’ to you.” He panted. “Wasn’t mean just to you.”

That was important too. That Eddie knew he hadn't been targeted. That Steve was a dick to pretty much anyone he came across.

“I know. I've uh, been watching you, from here."

“Yeah?”

“We have this giant globe. Like a crystal ball, but it’s set deep into the floor so you can only really see half of it. It can also connect to snow globes, and it can let you see places. Watch people.”

Eddie’s voice was soothing, the deep timber of it echoing through Steve’s chest. Belatedly he realized his head was in Eddie’s lap.

That felt nice too.

“I was real mad at you but the Bossman--uh, your Uncle, he kinda showed me you once or twice and then I started watching you myself. Sorry I know that’s weird--”

“Least you didn’t take pictures.” Steve wheezed and then tried to grin because that was very much supposed to be a joke.

(He definitely had felt more put together when he dropped the kids off in Billy's Camaro--so what the hell was happening? Had the shock worn off? Adrenaline?

Fuck maybe he should have just driven Billy’s stupid car back to his house, instead of leaving it at Max's house.

Asshole deserved to not know where his car was anyway.)

Then suddenly there was a lot of noise and light and fuck did that all make his head hurt. Hands went all over him, people barking orders, and a girl Steve was pretty sure was his age was peering at him.

“Steve?” She asked, but it sounded distant. Echoey and unclear.

“I can’t keep him awake!”

That from Eddie, who sounded much clearer, if not utterly panicked. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got him.” The girl said, tight but professional in a way that typically belonged to someone used to medical emergencies. “You can let him go now.”

“Are you kidding me, Buckley you’re an apprentice medmage-!”

Steve frowned at that, but found something was drifting over him. A weight, like an invisible blanket pressed down gently, and he had a second to recognize that this too, was some kind of magic before sleep tried to take him.

He fought it for a moment as a thought occurred.

One last thing he needed to say.

“You’re still good. Eddie. You’ve always been--”

The magic took him away.

xXx

It smelled like cinnamon.

Cinnamon and sharp hints of peppermint, the kind that tickled at Steve’s nose as he slowly rose back into consciousness.

Steve winced as he sat up, head itching like ants were crawling all over it. Idly he tried to scratch at his forehead and found himself touching a thick bandage, at about the same time his body seemed to catch on that he was awake.

It reminded him that he had had a hell of a night in the form of an onslaught of aches and pains.

His fingers traced the edge of the bandage as he took in the cheerful red walls surrounding him. The room was the exact kind of kitschy his mom hated, little twirls of white here and there making the place look like the inside of a candy cane.

The center piece was the full size window, taller than Steve was and twice as wide. Fat, fluffy flakes of snow drifted lazily outside it, some sticking to the window panes as they floated on by.

It was a little like being knocked out and waking up in the Wonka factory, but given all the shit that he had been through the past twenty four hours, Steve didn’t mind it.

Snow was infinitely preferable to the weird ash that came out of the Upside Down.

As if sensing he was awake, the door opposite the window swung open. A tray came through, positively stacked with a stupid amount of pancakes and oozing with maple syrup, the type Steve could smell.

“I,” Eddie announced, head just visible above the good, “had a very embarrassing meltdown when they tried to take you away from me. So suck it up Harrington, because you’re stuck with me now.”

Steve stared at him, mildly concerned he was a hallucination.

“I brought you pancakes.” Eddie added, pausing as he approached the bed like he hadn’t actually thought through to this point.

“I see that.” Steve said, just to fill the sudden, awkward silence. “There’s…kinda a lot there, man.”

So much so it was threatening to escape the confines of the tray and drip down onto the carpet.

“You play sports things don’t you?” Eddie defended, making the executive decision to put the tray down on the bed. “Kinda thought you’d need like, a lot, especially if you're healing." 

Steve snorted, but didn’t bother to hide the smile that crept onto his face.

Even if it hurt.

Dragged his gaze from the pile of pancakes now laid before him, to the man fidgeting awkwardly by his bedside.

Realized belatedly, that Eddie hadn’t changed much.

Not since Steve had last seen him, though he never in his life would have thought one of Santa’s elves would wear so much black.

(Frankly Eddie looked just like every other teenage metalhead Steve had ever met, sans the pointed ears. One of which was now pierced and had little metal hoops threaded through it.)

Eddie realized Steve was looking, and bashfully twist a strand of his hair in front of his face.

It was cute.

It made him look cute.

“You might as well sit and help me with this, it’s way too much.” Steve told him.

Which was the truth--Eddie had brought him a shit load of pancakes and Steve wasn’t exactly sure he could chew all that well right now, considering his left cheek was so puffed out it felt like a chipmunks.

Didn’t want to turn down a gift though--or rather, turn down a gift from Eddie.

Who he absolutely still needed to apologize properly too.

“I guess I should start off with a thank you.” Steve began, as Eddie dropped onto the bed. “I think you might have saved my life, though I swear I wasn’t doing that bad off before I got here.”

“Robin said the shock wore off.” Eddie told him. He didn’t wait for Steve to dig in, grabbing a pancake and rolling it up like a sausage before stabbing one end in syrup. “She also said you had a hell of a concussion, two cracked ribs and a literal boatload of scratches,”

Which sounded about right, considering.

“Still though.” Steve frowned, looking at his hands. “I mostly just fought off Billy, the demodogs never got me.”

Something he was incredibly thankful for, given the sheer amount of teeth.

“I think you’re downplaying your injuries here, handsome, you gave Robin a hell of a fright. She cursed in four languages." Eddie talked fast, just like the little boy Steve remembered him as.

It made him grin. 

“Handsome, huh?” Steve teased, and regretted it the second it slipped out of his mouth.

He hadn’t meant to call attention to it. Not just yet anyway. Wanted to work his way up to his apology and then the things he had kind of realized on his walk home (and possibly before that, though he thinks he might have…repressed it.)

Given the way Eddie froze, Steve figures he’s got about two seconds to talk himself out of it, before Eddie rightfully shut him out.

“I like it. The nicknames.” He said, which is also not what he intended to come out of his mouth and God he was really blowing this, wasn’t he?

“Steve,” Eddie started, sounding a little strangled and nope, no, he was going to fix this dammit!

“I’m sorry.” He said honestly. “I know I was an ass when you came to check up on me, and I know I said some terrible things to you. I regret it. I regret it a lot, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“You weren't wrong.” Eddie cut in, twirling a ring on his finger, eyes firmly on it. “I am gay. I am flamingly gay. And I understand if after today, you don't want me here.”

Which apparently answered the question about whether or not elves gave a shit about such things.

(Or maybe they did, and it was humans who cared, and Eddie was giving him an out for it.

Steve figured he’d ask later.

After he had finished groveling.)

“I want you here.” He said, as seriously as he’d ever said anything. “I think the real question is why you would want to help me?”

It was the one thing that didn’t add up. Why Eddie had been so nice, when he’d shown up.

Sure it was one thing to be a good citizen or whatever, help out a guy who was passed out on the ground, but Eddie hadn’t just gotten help.

He’d stroked Steve’s hair. He’d kept him awake.

Hell he called Steve sweetheart.

And now he was here again, right by Steve's bedside, checking up on him.

You didn’t do that for the guy who was a downright douchebag too you, even if it had been a few years.

Eddie bit his lip, before he chanced a look back at Steve, up through his bangs. “Because you said I was good Steve. You were the first person who ever said I was good.”

Quieter he added “And because we were friends once.”

“I'd like to still be friends.”

“Even if I'm gay?”

Steve took a deep breath, and let out a truth that he’d maybe been ignoring for almost as long as he’d tried to forget about the hole in his heart.

“Cards on the table Eddie, I’m not sure I’m not gay Or whatever both is." 

He'd heard the word once from Chrissy, but hadn't cared to remember it.

(Regretted that a little bit.) 

He got a mighty frown in response.

“Don’t do that. Don’t--joke, like that.”

“It’s not a joke.” Steve said slowly, feeling the words as he spoke them. “I think this is part of the stuff I always just--ignored. Didn’t want to deal with it, because my--”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to say magic, and so, aborted the sentence entirely. “I couldn’t deal. So everything connected to this place, to the rest of my family, to you, I just pushed aside. Pretended it didn’t exist.”

Pretended that he was normal.

Just like his parents wanted.

Then he’d met Nancy.

Realized what he felt about her, he’d always felt about Eddie. That the way she looked at Jonathan wasn’t the way she looked at him--and even then, in the love he had for her, Steve hadn’t looked at her like that either.

Steve had been attracted to her for her yes--but initially, maybe, because she’d looked a little like someone else.

Admitted to himself that he the reason he could clock Eddie so fast back when he was fourteen, wasn't because he was that good at reading people, but because he recognized what it looked like to get caught checking out a guy.

“But I could never forget about you.” Steve added because well. “I’ve never been able to forget about you.”

He’d already said cards on the table, hadn’t he?

Might as well reveal his whole hand.

“You were the last thing I thought of, when I was trying to get home. I wasn’t thinking about my house, or my parents. I was thinking about you. I’ve never been able to come back here, not after Uncle Nick,” He cut himself off again, frustrated that he couldn’t just fucking it, but made himself take a breath.

Continue.

��--but I could, last night. I could get to you.”

Technically he’d gotten to Gareth, who Steve probably also owed a thank you too, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

Gareth had found Eddie anyway, in the end.

“I absolutely get if you want nothing to do with that, considering I think I’m just now accepting this about myself but. I wanted you to know. You’re important to me, Eddie. You always have been.”

It was weird--Steve should have felt laid bare. Vulnerable now that he’d laid out all these things he’d suppressed, that he thought taken away alongside his magic.

Instead he felt lighter than air.

Like the weight had finally been lifted and he could breathe deep once again.

For a long moment no one said anything and Steve figured this was it, he’d gone too far, when Eddie darted in, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek.

He pulled away just as fast. Wide eyes searched Steve’s face, as though expecting Steve to change his mind. 

If anything, it just solidified it.

Steve reached out slowly, gently grabbing on of Eddie’s hands. Brought it up to his mouth and kissed the back of it, while maintaining eye contact.

Enjoyed the way Eddie’s face went bright red.

“You’re important to me too.” He managed, voice awed. “You’ve always been important to me. Stevie.”

Finally feeling like he knew where he belonged, Steve grinned back. 

xXx

Bonus

“When I said let him sleep Munson, I didn’t mean with you!” Someone screeched a few hours later, jolting Steve awake.

“He was awake when I came in!” Eddie protested, shoving himself up onto his elbows when the women from yesterday--Robin, Steve thought her name was--stormed in. “We fell asleep together after Robbie, I swear!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Hi.” Steve said with a little wave, before the two of them could screech some more. “I’m Steve.”

“I know, Dingus.” Robin told him, eyes narrowed in fury. “You’re a member of the Clause family, everyone knows who you are.”

“Oh.” Steve said, though it felt less cool and more weird that someone had finally said it out loud.

That he, Steven Harrington, had an Uncle, and that Uncle was Santa Clause.

‘Dustin is gonna freak.’

“I’m sure Mega-Idiotson here hasn’t told you, but I’m the medmage that saw you last night. Or kinda--see I’m an apprentice medmage, but my teacher was kinda out with the Boss seeing someone a town over and time was tight and we couldn’t exactly wait--”

“Breath, Buckley. In,” Eddie teased, before demonstrating a deep breath on himself, hand sweeping into his chest before he loudly exhaled. “and out.”

“Shut up, Eddie, I’m working up to something here!”

“What is it?” Steve said, feeling like if he didn’t interject Robin would take a while to get to the point.

“I might have accidentally undid whatever was on your magic?” Robin rushed out, so fast Steve nearly didn’t catch it. “Like I can tell that’s the Boss’s magic, and that he did--whatever that was, but I couldn't figure out how to heal you with it there and it was kinda already leaking out so I just--took it off?”

Steve gaped at her.

“You fixed me?” He managed after a moment, hand darting out to squeeze at one of Eddie’s.

“Um. Yes?” Robin cautioned, like she wasn’t exactly sure that’s what she did.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Steve laughed, then felt absolutely stupid for not checking in with himself.

Because Robin was right.

The hole was gone--and his magic was back.

How had he not noticed that his magic was back!?

“Eddie, Eddie she’s right--I have it back!”

He turned in bed, dropping Eddie’s hand so he could cup his face and kiss him instead.

“Okay, I don’t need to see this--” Robin complained, but Steve didn’t care.

Could only laugh delighted into Eddie’s mouth, before Eddie deepened the kiss.

(“Guys seriously I am still right here! Can’t you at least wait until I’m gone!?”

“No. Now get out Robin, you’re ruining my moment!”

“It’s okay, Eds. I’ll give you as many moments as you want.”

“Ew, ew, ew-!” )

This whole ass thing on A03 if you'd rather read it there!

#Steve is a member of the Clause family #yes that Clause #Steddie #ACTUAL STEDDIE! #FOR ONCE LMAO #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #Steves shitty ass parents #TW child abuse (yelling and a slap) #TW period related homophobia/slurs #well a badly coping fourteen year old steve throws one at eddie anyway #canon typical violence #this is canon to S1 and S2 #A more realistic look at steves injuries in S2 #dont worry he gets better #childhood friends #elf eddie #this is FLUFFY #angsty #but FLUFFY #ALSO LOOK YOU GUYS I ACTUALLY WROTE A ONESHOT #the second half to the other holiday fic is also done dont worry #this idea just hit me like a TRAIN #1/1 complete