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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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love me softly p3

@acitytokeepyoursecrets tags on this post she gets it god bless

@urmomification @legitcookie @deleataecount :)

Eddie doesn’t like that he’s into Steve Harrington, so he does what he does best: acts like a dick and annoys Steve into hating him even more than he already did.

But it’s doesn’t even seem to be working. Even when he stands on cafeteria tables and shouts about pompous rich kids and their shiny cars.

Steve just looks up at him, while the others sneer and throw insults and fries at him. He almost smiles a lot of the time, his expression light. Amused. He just watches, eating quietly while Eddie shouts and yells and cackles when Tommy H throws something at him and misses. (Steve covers his mouth. Eddie thinks he’s laughing too.)

When Eddie sits again, Gareth is almost glaring at him, his elbow on the table, his fingers to his forehead, like he’s watching a house fire. He tells Eddie it’s a bad idea. The others don’t know what they’re talking about but they don’t really care.

Eddie knows it’s a bad idea to taunt Steve and his friends. That he’s just painting a bright red target on his own back. But he can’t really help it.

Especially not when Steve starts responding, flipping Eddie the bird while Eddie’s up on a table, tilting his head adorably when Eddie comments that he looks like a Christian summer camp counsellor.

Tommy just comments that at least Steve can buy new clothes. Eddie just fires back that money can’t buy better taste, bitch. Steve snorts even though it’s a dig on him.

It goes on for a while. The teasing. The stares. The suppressed smiles and laughter.

But it actually starts on a Friday.

Eddie has detention. (Shocker.) The only reason he actually goes is because Mr Peterson isn’t an asshole. He’s friendly, even to Eddie.

Greets him as “Mr Munson,” looks at the pink detention slip before raising a single eyebrow at Eddie and tells him to sit with a soft shake of his head and a smile.

And Eddie turns to find Steve sitting in the back, watching him. Eddie’s grin falters and then widens, his head tilting as he raises his eyebrows, and Steve’s face turns red. He looks away. Eddie goes to sit with him, still grinning.

The room is quiet. There aren’t many others here, a few of them doodling on tables or sleeping. Peterson doesn’t care. (Another reason Eddie likes him.)

“What’d you do?” Eddie asks quietly, sitting too close to him.

Steve just looks down at his notebook. It’s closed, a pen laying on top of it. Eddie wants to flip through it.

“Nothing.”

“Steve Harrington is in detention,” Eddie says dryly. “You did something.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Eddie snorts. Steve glances at him. He’s smiling, and his cheeks are still flushed, and Eddie might die.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Ste-e-e-eve, what’d you do?”

“Oh, we’re on a first name basis now?”

Eddie blinks. He’s only called him Harrington. Steve’s never called him anything.

“Yeah, I guess. Tell me what you did.”

“…Called Collins a jackass. In front of him.”

Eddie drops his head to the table.

“Incredible.”

“What did you do?”

“Forgot my homework.” He lifts his head. “Seven times.”

Steve snorts.

“Of course.”

They’re not allowed to talk during detention. It’s too quiet for them to even whisper with Peterson hearing, the room silent except the scratching of someone’s pencil and the occasional cough or sigh.

Eddie lowers his head to the table, ready to take a nap or zone out or something, but Steve opens the notebook. Eddie turns his head to look, his cheek pressing against the cold surface, and Steve doesn’t notice.

Eddie sits up to watch. Steve flips through the pages, and Eddie catches a glimpse of a drawing, so he reaches out and take the notebook wordlessly. Steve makes a small indignant ugh. Eddie shushes him.

Eddie flips through the pages slowly, looking at Steve’s handwriting. It’s pretty. Almost girly. Every page has random, half-understandable notes, without any kind of indicating header that might include the subject or date.

He thinks he’s getting closer to the drawing, because Steve reaches out to take the notebook again. Eddie swats his hand away, and Steve drops his head to the table with soft groan.

Eddie grins.

He finds the drawing. It’s a messy pencil sketch, scratchy snd scribbled and smudged and shitty, but easily recognisable.

His grins falters, and he blinks, his eyes tracing the lines of his own curls, the angle of his own nose, the curve of his eyelashes.

He turns to look at Steve, who’s now hiding his face in his shirt, looking away from Eddie.

Eddie lays back on the table, his chin propped on his arms as he gazes at the drawing again.

Steve lets him keep the notebook until the end of detention.

part four

read the whole thing ao3

#is this just gonna be a thing now #i rly like ppls tags yall are entertaining #love you guys <3 #i already have so many idea for this series (???)#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #ficlet #just realised i’m so used to ao3 i still code italics instead of just italicising them lmso #oopsies ✨#steddie ficlet #1k #love me softly

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nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius · 5 months

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The scene where the brides of Dracula almost bite Jonathan is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever read and I will die right here on this hill

#and i’ve read a LOT of ao3 okay #i did dracula for my a-level english coursework and this was riiiight after my sexuality crisis #but before my monsterfucker awakening #let’s just say i re-read that a lot #i. really should’ve realised i was into monsters earlier shouldn’t i #“are we to have nothing tonight?” HI YES YOU CAN HAVE ME I’M FREE ALL WEEK #morgan speaketh #dracula #brides of dracula

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bambistan · 6 months

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Sometimes I feel like I'm the most chill person in this fandom when it comes to ships and characters. Like I can find reasons as to why each ship would work and wouldn't.

Pandalily? Academic rivals FOR SURE.

Jegulus? HELLO??? Bestfriends brother? Grumpy x Sunshine?

Partyvan? Peter deserves ALL that love.

Marylene? Not friends, not lovers, but something. It's so heartbreakingly cute.

I can even find stuff for ships I don't even ship.

Jeverus? After he saves his life? Hell yeah!

Dramoine? ENEMIES TO LOVERS! REDEMPTION ARCS!

Prongsfoot? Best friends to lover? Sure, man, go for it!

Regulus x Sirius?.......... You... You do you bro???

Snily? That "always" line was cute, I gotta admit.

I genuinely won't judge like if you ship them - if you see them working out; GO. FOR. IT. THEYRE FICTIONAL!! Have your own opinions, it's okay!

AND THE CHARACTERS!!!

Yes, they all have their flaws. Yes, James bullied Severus. Yes, James repeatedly asked Lily even though she'd already turned her down. Yes, he changed!!

Yes, Severus called the love of his life a slur. Yes, he bullied children. Yes he cared for Harry to some extent! Even if it's only as a tribute to Lily, that's better than nothing.

Yes, Dumblewh*re raise Harry for slaughter.... That's it... I have nothing more to add for him.... Bitch.

Yes, Regulus is a death eater. Yes, Regulus was obsessed with the dark lord since childhood. Yes, he stole the horcrux!!

Sorry for the rant but like I'm seeing so much hate for so many characters and ships and I don't understand it. There's as much to love as there is to hate. It wouldn't be fair if they were perfect flawless characters. They're designed to be insufferable and loving and idiotic and a little crazy.

#again sorry #but like cmon guys whats so wrong with them #like of course i have my favourites but im not gonna put down someone elses opinions just because they dont line up with mine #and on the Sirius x Regulus ship i personally havent read one but i have seen a few floating on ao3 and like whatever floats your boat budd #que no-lip white guy smile #🙂#this was rushed btw so my apologies for any mistakes i just saw a few hate video on lily for “ruing jegulus”#and i realised ive seen tons of hate on so many characters #and it really annoys me #also if youve read all this feel free to comment your opinikns bc i love hearing what other people have to say #i cant be bothered to correct how badly i mispelled opinions lmao #snily #prongsfoot #partyvan #jegulus #pandalily #marylene #dramione #jeverus

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wyrmswears · 2 months

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"Generator"; 1569 words.

The Administrator has something to show Agent Walker.

...

Sure, he knew it wasn’t the first time he had been called to a one-on-one meeting with The Administrator, but it may as well have been. It wasn’t like he remembered any of their previous interactions; he was going in blind all the same.

When his fax machine first spat out the offending paper, he believed it had been sent to the wrong agent. But there was his name at the top, ‘Agent Walker’. There was the possibility that someone else shared his surname, but as far as he was aware he was the only agent without a first name.

The listed meeting room wasn’t her office, nor was it one of the Administration’s more conventional meeting rooms, complete with tables 30 people long but only one person wide and more fake potted plants than you could ever imagine. No, today he had been called down to the lowest floor of the Administration: the server room. The part of his brain that understood technology bristled at that; it would be much more effective to place the server room on a higher floor. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t say anything about that to The Administrator when he faced her - he would stick to his department, as all good employees did. The networks and communications department could handle that one.

The elevator down required two separate keycards: one was his standard agent ID, and the other digitally recognised him as a department manager. The former granted him permission to move between floors, yes, but only the latter allowed him access to the basement.

The ride down took 2 minutes and 43 seconds. He counted. No one else entered the elevator the entire journey.

When the elevator reached the basement and the doors slid open, The Administrator was standing on the other side of them. He hoped he would forget this meeting like the others, if just so he could become ignorant to the way he jumped at her sudden appearance.

“Agent Walker.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Administrator, ma’am.”

She smiled. This did nothing to soothe his racing heart. “Come, let’s talk.” She beckoned and he followed her into the dark room.

It was large, but so were most rooms in the Administration. The realm reassignment department was tiny relative to the office rooms that the majority of their employees were stationed in. This room was about half the size of block 8E sub-block 185A A3/11√5. He could see three of the walls, dark stretches of concrete, sealing them in. The fourth that should’ve sat opposite to the elevator was obscured by rows upon rows upon rows of computer servers. A blue glow emanated from them and he grimaced at the thought of the voltage it would take to create a light that strong.

As he struggled to keep pace, The Administrator barely spared him a glance. “This may seem beyond your department, but trust me, your role will become clear soon.” She forewarned. She would never have him leave his department, he knew. That was the first rule of the Administration: Stay in your place. “What do you know of Lord Ras of the Wyldness?”

Lord Ras. He had heard that name. Some of the employees that hailed from Imperium had mentioned it in conversations coated with nothing short of hatred. The ‘outlander’ who had gained a position of such power in their otherwise closed society. That sort of talk only ever continued for a couple days before their new job turned their interest towards paperwork and mild office drama.

“Isn’t he the one trying to awaken ancient evils without a permit?”

The Administrator shot him a look, slow and venomous. “He is”, she nodded, “but that’s not important to us right now.” She walked towards him. He averted his gaze to the floor with stiffened shoulders but found that she only continued past him, down the alley of servers. She didn’t need to beckon him this time, he knew what he was meant to do. He followed.

There was little light between the pillars of computers. They were only between two rows of the many, but what he could see was endless. The towers sparked a theory in his mind about why she was mentioning the rogue lord. “We use a lot of power.” He started, testing the waters. The Administrator stopped walking and turned to face him, her silence commanding him to finish his speculation. “Lord Ras allied with Imperium by promising them power; do we need to ally with him too? To have enough power?”

The Administrator smiled and shook her head. Count two for smiles, and a contradiction - she must have expected him to guess wrong. “You’re right that we do plan to ally with him, but it is not out of need for power. We have all the power we could need.” She turned again and continued to weave her way through the computerised nest which was now composed of more than just server towers. Thick cables ran both overhead and underfoot, LEDs glowed from no visible circuitry, and the drone of electric humming and cooling fans only ever got louder the further they went.

Finally, they breached the sea of servers.

Now that he could see the wall they had been trekking towards all this time, he realised that it wasn’t made out of concrete the same as the other three walls. No, this one was glass. Despite this, nothing was visible from the other side. There was no depth at all, only pure light glowing an almost-white with its brightness (though when Walker inspected the way it lit up its surroundings, he realised it to be tinted pale blue).

In front of the glass wall, the cables reached their largest size before slipping underneath panels in the floor. The servers did not get within 10 metres of the wall. Instead, they stood guard in their rows, watching the tiny humans approach the divine light.

The Administrator hummed, snapping Walker’s attention back to her. She gestured towards the glass. “This is our power source. You can look, if you would like.”

He didn’t know if that was a good idea. Just looking at the glass from this distance was already beginning to hurt his eyes. Nonetheless, unsure if it was because The Administrator had told him to or because he chose to, he stepped forwards.

As he approached, he could feel the electricity in the air. It combed through his hair and bounced around a pit in his chest, dangerously close to the one that ached whenever he thought about the family he might’ve once had, before he forgot everything. He didn’t realise he was shaking with a strange sense of excitement until he was close enough to touch the glass and found himself unable to hold his hand still. He almost did touch the glass, but held back just before his fingers made contact. He still couldn’t see anything on the other side. Pale blue swallowed his vision.

He looked over his shoulder to The Administrator. She raised an eyebrow and jerked her head towards the glass again. He turned back. A bright light stared back at him.

He didn’t scream. This was unusual - Walker knew he was cowardly and anxious and that in any other scenario he would’ve jumped or fallen back or swung a punch - but something was different this time.

If anything, he stood closer than he did originally, watching the sparking lights with complete fascination. His breath fogged the glass.

“What is it?” He asked after what could’ve been anything between a second and a day, even though he couldn’t hear what he was saying over the pounding of his own heart.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The Administrator was at his side now. When had she moved? “It’s lightning.”

Like realising one’s hunger upon taking a bite of food, the word sparked an ache in the back of his head. “Lightning…” He knew what that was, of course, as well as where it came from. They must have captured it live from a storm. He had never seen a storm before, but he had heard anecdotes of them from newly recruited employees and field agents alike. He was jealous. Did all lightning look like this? Freckles and curls?

She watched as he pressed a hand to the glass. The lightning responded in kind, pressing the palm of its hand opposite to his. “We could let it go of course, but it would run away. Far from here.”

Far from here… No. They couldn’t let it free. Now that he had seen it, felt it, he knew he couldn’t bear to part with it. They had to keep it contained. He told The Administrator such.

She nodded and smiled again. “I knew you’d understand.”

He dropped his gaze to study the hand that would’ve held his if it could.

It was almost the same pale blue that shone through the rest of the glass, but somehow brighter. The similarity in colours made it hard to tell the form of the figure apart from its glow, but blue and yellow markings fanned out across its form like the branches of a pine tree. Lichtenberg figures, his mind supplied.

He looked up at its face, admiring its curls and running a hand through his own. He wondered if he’d at all resemble the figure before him if he looked in a mirror.

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subtle-as-an-earthquake · 6 months

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In The Heat Of The Morning

Pairing: Miles Kane x Alex Turner (Milex)

Word count: 11k (one-shot)

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Some baby puppets smut for your enjoyment! This is one of those completely self-indulgent fics that have been rolling around my head for years and which I finally decided to write. It's sort of my (and Miles's) love letter to the fluffy wonder that is 2008 Alex, and to the TAOTU era, which will forever hold a very special place in my heart. Basically 10k of smut (but with plenty of feelings to because it's them and it's me). Hope you enjoy! ✨️

Endless thanks to the wonderful and supremely talented @uhbasicallyjustmilex for the beta and the cheerleading - your kindness and support mean the absolute world to me Lulu, you're a absolute gem!! 💘

Excerpt:

There's no denying it. It's an unmistakable moan. A throaty, broken sound that Miles has definitely never heard Alex make before, because he'd know if he had. It’s similar to the sound Alex sometimes makes when he’s performing with the Monkeys, at the start of a bridge or a solo, but it’s also not like that at all. Because where those moans are deliberate and showy, this one is clearly accidental, and therefore much, much more intimate. They both freeze, Miles's hand still gripping Alex’s hair while the ghost of the moan continues to echo inescapably through the room.

Read on AO3

#i just realised these fic post of mine must look very over the top #sorry about that lol #i'm just used to making them this way from my other fandom #and i like making them so eh #guess i'll keep doing it #milex #miles kane x alex turner #arctic monkeys #the last shadow puppets #tlsp #baby puppets #the last shadow puppies #my writing #my fic #ao3

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luxeberries · 1 year

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now on ao3

One day, in mid August of ‘85, Dustin shows up at Steve’s front door, completely unannounced. It’s the middle of the night and Steve has half the mind to reprimand Dustin about curfew and biking alone in the dark. But when his vision finally focuses on Dustin’s expression, Steve sees panic in his eyes; fear. At first, his heart plummets and he thinks not again, not so soon. But then Dustin says-

“I killed that guy. Didn’t I?”

And every other thought in Steve’s mind crumbles like ash.

“The Russian,” Dustin clarifies in Steve’s silence. “The doctor.”

Steve remembers.

Bald, round glasses.

Stale coffee breath.

Pliers pulling his nail.

He can’t speak, throat closing up.

Dustin keeps talking, rambling like Robin does when she’s panicked. “They used those cattle prods to stun demogorgons, Steve. Do you have any idea how many volts that thing held? He- He fell, like-”

“Dustin,” Steve says - rasps it out because his throat is dry but he needs to stop Dustin’s spiral.

Rendered silent, Dustin looks up at Steve with wide, glistening eyes. He’s expecting an answer, but Steve doesn’t have one. He can’t think beyond the sight of Dustin standing before him in a matching pajama set and untied shoes, like he didn’t have the time or mind to fasten them up because he was in too much of a rush to come here. To seek out Steve, in the middle of the night. Steve, who should be able to help because that’s his job; he’s the protector, the older brother Dustin can come to for comfort.

Except that Steve was woken with a start just five minutes ago when Dustin started pounding on his front door and he thought it was the Russians coming back for him, his mind still half lost to the nightmare he was having; all blood and bone saws and Robin’s screams. Part of him is itching to call her, like maybe she somehow died back there and Steve has been imagining her this whole time and he just needs to hear her mom answer the phone and say, ‘Yeah, she’s right here, honey’.

But he remembers Dustin charging in, remembers watching him strike the doctor right in the chest and how he fell to the ground, limp, and didn’t get back up. Knows that everyone is safe, no matter what his brain tries to tell him. Robin and Erica are sleeping in their beds, and Dustin is standing on his front door step, bike discarded on the ground next to the Bimmer.

Steve takes a deep breath and says, “Get in here.”

He ushers Dustin in with a hand on the back of his neck, locking the door behind them, and heads to the living room. Dustin just keeps looking at him, like Steve has all the answers. Like Steve can make it all better. Can say the voltage wouldn’t have killed him, as if the possibility that he’s still out there wouldn’t send himself into a panic attack.

“Steve,” Dustin says, and it sounds like a plea; the way his voice lisps, wet and small.

He’s only thirteen.

“I killed a person,” Dustin says.

And Steve gets it, sort of. It doesn’t matter that the person Dustin killed was evil and cruel, just like it didn’t matter that Billy Hargrove was about to kill Lucas when Steve stepped in between them. He still didn’t want to hurt someone. Each punch felt like too much, like if he punched any harder, he’d do some serious damage. And Billy would have deserved it - as horrible as it feels to think that after his sacrifice - but Steve didn’t want to be the one to do it. That’s not who he is. He’s a protector, not a fighter. Not a killer. That breaks something in a person, as is made clear by the crack in Dustin’s voice. It took something from him. The little bit of innocence Dustin had left.

“Yeah,” Steve says, quiet and almost apologetic. “You did.”

Dustin’s face falls, as if he really did want Steve to say otherwise. But avoiding the truth won’t help anything.

“But- But you saved me, okay?” he says, like he’s asking if that truth is enough.

Dustin’s eyes flash with something Steve can’t identify.

“Me and Robin,” Steve continues. “You saved us. If you hadn’t done what you did- What you had to do…”

His nightmares have answered that hypothetical too well.

He shakes it off, puts his hand on Dustin’s shoulder instead.

“You saved us. You did good, Dustin. Okay? That’s what’s important here.”

Dustin's face crumples and before Steve can blink, he’s got an armful of the kid. He’s still bruised, ribs only just recovering from the break, and it hurts. But he wraps Dustin up in his arms and lets him cry into his shoulder, wetting the thin fabric through.

"Hey, it's okay," Steve soothes, voice low. "You're okay. I've got you, buddy."

He’s not coddling him or trying to get him to stop crying- he just talks so Dustin knows he’s there. Tells him how grateful he is for Dustin taking care of him and Robin when they were messed up, for being so brave when he busted into that room. He talks until Dustin is quiet against him, left with his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist and his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder. He doesn’t move for a while, but Steve doesn’t mind - just rubs his back and rests his cheek against his curls.

“Your mom know you’re here?” he asks softly.

Dustin shakes his head.

“You wanna stay here tonight?”

Dustin nods.

Steve checks his watch over Dustin’s shoulder. It’s almost midnight. He sighs.

“Remind me to send her flowers or something as an apology for waking her up right now,” Steve says, light-hearted, trying to make Dustin laugh.

But Dustin just sniffles, guilty. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no. It’s fine. Take your shoes off and head on upstairs, yeah? I’ll call your mom and tell her you’re with me.”

Dustin pulls back, wipes his wet nose with his sleeve and Steve tries not to cringe.

“Thanks, Steve.”

It’s not entirely selfless, calling Dustin’s mom. If he calls Mrs Henderson, he can call Robin right after without Dustin knowing. He has a feeling she’ll be awake at this time too anyway. He thinks he might call the Sinclairs as well, wants to make sure Erica is okay.

And as long as Dustin stays the night, Steve knows that at least he’s safe, spread out right beside him, taking up the whole bed. Can make sure Dustin sleeps through the night, can be there if he has a nightmare that his mom wouldn’t be able to calm him down from.

Steve ruffles Dustin’s hair, smiling at how he pushes into it like a cat. “It’s no problem.”

#luxeberriesfics #stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #henderfam #was having thoughts last night about dustin suddenly realising he killed that guy #like maybe he was aware of it but it never really hit him that he took a alife #i dont think i explore that very well tbf like i could go much deeper into it #but really i just wanted steve and dustin comforting each other #so #i think of this one as a companion piece to my stobin ficlet #i might upload them on ao3 and make it a little series #might do one with erica too at some point

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sanaserena · 8 months

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As you grew closer to scent of food, you turned a corner, and bumped into someone. You stumbled back in surprise.

“Sorry,” you apologised, looking up.

Tattoo under his eye, jester-like mouth. And all those hearts. You stilled, it was the one that Giolla had called Corazon.

He didn’t say anything, and it unsettled you. You weren’t the type to ramble, let alone continuously chatter. The thought had always irritated you. But his silence made you uncomfortable, and you were still new to this place, and surely, even disgusting as they were, those executives, Trebol and Diamante had seemed chatty enough earlier.

“I was just looking for the dinner room. It seems to smell good. Are you heading there too?” you asked.

For some reason, as soon as those words fell from your mouth, you had the distinct feeling that you had said something wrong or your mere existence seemed to offend him.

Because Corazon just glared at you.

In the next breath he had you cornered against the wall, slamming his palm into the wall above your head.

You stiffened because for all your bravery, these people were still pirates. And Corazon was just too close. What had Giolla rattled about earlier? She’d said something like, in spite of his apparent clumsiness, his inability to not set himself on fire, Corazon was skilled at his job.

He stared you down. You were afraid, but you weren’t about to show it. Defiantly, you stared right back, as if waiting for a strike to come.

You expected him to say something. But there was another memory at the back of your mind of something Giolla had said earlier.

Corazon is mute. A tragic accident. And he’s young master’s brother. His blood brother and the newly appointed Nidaime Corazon.

That must have been important to know that Corazon was Doffy’s brother.

But right now you just wanted food, and he wasn’t being very welcoming. At all.

The intensity of his glare pinned you in place. You weren’t sure if it was in your mind or from him, but there was a pressure pushing against you, that plucked at your fear, bringing it to the fore. You felt your limbs shake and your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

And then it was as though he’d said it loudly, as clear as day, his eyes said, Fuck off.

You flinched. Well, that was a first. Neither of the other executives had bothered warning you away other than the initial half hearted one. But this, this was definitely not half hearted. For some reason Corazon was telling you to…fuck off…without even knowing a single thing about you.

How dare he?

You’d come here because you had nothing to lose. You’d come because this was your only way to survive. This was your way to revenge.

So, stubborn as you were, you licked your lips, to moisten the dryness of fear, and said, flatly, “No.”

~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~

'The first "conversation" between Reader and Corazon just after she joins the family' scene from my ongoing canon (intended) compliant fic, Doffy's Whore, over on AO3 (Doflamingo X reader and Rosinante X reader pairing; Aokiji X reader endgame - the relationships are a little complicated, see AO3 notes, mind the warnings.)

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo x reader #corazon x reader #aokiji x reader #aokiji x reader endgame #long fic #smut fic #plot driven #mind the fic warnings #I just realised I haven't posted a corazon x reader snippet yet #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader

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velidewrites · 7 months

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A messy breakup forces 20 year old Feyre Archeron back to her old hometown of Forks, Washington—back to the life she thought she'd left behind. What she doesn't know, though, is that Forks has changed in her absence, its blue-tinted fog stained by fresh, crimson blood. Luckily, Feyre is ready to join the hunt.

🩸Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand

🩸Rating: Explicit

🩸Tags: Twilight AU

Chapter 1/5 || Read on AO3

Or continue for a snippet below!

***

“Who’s he?”

Ressina follows her gaze—then smiles. “Ah, yes. Can’t blame you for losing your focus, honestly.” She leans in closer. “That’s Rhysand Blake. He’s…” she motions over her face, as if the movement is telling enough. It is. “Like I said. There’s no point in even trying.”

Feyre hums. Rhysand. “What’s his major?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t see him around much—not that I was looking, of course—so he probably takes evening classes. He’s somewhat of an enigma, really.” Ressina narrows her stare on her again. “Something tells me that did nothing to discourage you.”

Feyre flashes her a smile. “Who doesn’t like a little mystery?”

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed, I’m basing it off the announcement post 💕): @azrielshadowssing @damedechance @melting-houses-of-gold @rosanna-writer @itsthedoodle @reverie-tales @sanfangirl @separatist-apologist @asnowfern @thelovelymadone @foundress0fnothing @thesistersarcheron @wilde-knight @popjunkie42-blog

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reinedeslys-central · 1 month

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wip that just germinated in my brain:

Summary, I'm thinking:

"Sorry, who's this?" Robin tucks her cellphone (cellphone! Sometimes she still can't believe it) into her neck as she sorts out the groceries Steve had forgotten about (again. Ugh.).

"It's, um, Carol. Carol, Carol Perkins? I was told this was Steve Harrington's number?"

There's a faint droning sound in their warm kitchen from the dishwasher, and it smells like summer. Robin wonders how the tinny voice in her ear is supposed to reconcile with the one in the back of her head from '86, whispering 'Oh, Carol Perkins - bad news. Don't bring her up around Steve'. Minus all their late-night conversations where anything goes, obviously.

"Oh! Oh, no, well, Steve's number and mine are pretty similar I guess, so it's an honest mistake, don't worry about it, oh, and you must not know why I'm answering either way, sorry, it's - "

"Robin Buckley, I know," Carol Perkins huffs warmly. "Steve brought you to my wedding in '06. You're all good, hon."

"Right. Right, sorry, I wasn't sure you'd remember." Robin laughs. "Right, well, with that out of the way, yeah, our numbers are flipped, he's got the '45' at the end where I've got the '54', so you probably just typed it in wrong. I swear, I told that dingus we should just tell people our landline. Even the kids mix it up! Do you - Uh, do you want me to take a message? For him?"

There's an intake of breath from the other side of the line, and a sound sort of like someone's hand hitting their forehead. What did Max call it? A facepalm? Robin fans herself as she sits at the table, her notepad stolen off Family Video from way back when open with a pen poised to write down whatever Carol still wants with Steve in this day and age.

"Oh. Well, um…" At least Carol's clearly feeling as awkward as she is, yay for small mercies. "I guess it's not much of a message? I was gonna message him on Facebook, but it didn't really seem right. For this."

Robin feels a little stone drop into her gut. "For…?"

Carol laughs a little bit, like whatever comes next, she can't believe it herself. "For this, yeah. No easy way to say this, but Tom's gone."

Another stone joins the one in her belly.

"Gone?" Truthfully, Robin doesn't even care, really. Tommy Hagan's just a high school bully in her mind, save for the weird, weird days they've met since becoming (or pretending to be) functional adults. But she knows it's not the same for Steve. Steve will care.

#the realisation that I can do what I want #I can just write snippets and post them #might post the full bit too or smack it onto ao3 who knows #personally I prefer the oneshot format for writing bc figuring out chapter breaks is a pain #but multi-chaptering is easier for posting so idk #writing #stranger things #stranger things fic #tfw your jerky bff from highschool suddenly dies very young and you don't know how to feel about it #future fic #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin #steve harrington #carol perkins #tommy hagan #robin buckley

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