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the-cimmerians · 4 months

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It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

#fannish shenanigans #fandom history #rare ass personal post

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galactic-rhea · 4 months

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WDYM Anakin is Luke and Leia's dad

I dunno if this post will reach the Star Wars fandom but I hope it does because I'm sure you all will get a good laugh at me.

As of recent I have developed a good hiperfixation for Star Wars, the thing is I knew nothing. NOTHING about Star Wars besides the fact it had aliens and...a war...in space? And funny swords. And main character is Luke or something, I spent over 20 years ignoring anything about Star Wars and somehow missing most references out there.

And recently, literally less than a month ago I saw a gif and said to my partner "oh this guy this guy looks cool, this gif looks nice" and he said "Oh well, he's a good character." And it all developed into me watching Clone Wars, the animated series you know and...and I was kinda blown away, on my opinion the show IS GREAT. And I love every character and their interactions, I love how much they focus on side characters, and they all seem very well written. I got hiperfixated really fast and saw Anakin and I was like "Omg, babygirl. He's a blorbo now."

And because of the show, this was super unexpected, but somehow I also got, really got, into the ship with Padmé because omg, cool woman. Literal happy squeaky noises of someone who was in a bad state and needed some good ol' distraction and comfort.

Now, like I said I knew nothing about Star Wars as a whole. And I still haven't watched the movies, besides the ocassional gif?

So imagine my shock, my surprise, my...bewilderment when I realized.

"Wait a minute, LUKE IS ANAKIN'S SON?! HOLY-"

Ladies, gentleman, and others, I think I came very late to this party and I don't even know how it took me so long.

Not only that, but because of this sudden love for the series, I went to my friends circle like "BESTIE, GUESS WHAT, I HAVE A NEW BLROBO AND A NEW FAV SHIP AND EEEP"

And my friends are like "omg that's amazing, what is it?"

I tell them, and of course they all know these characters and they all react like they know this very bad secret fact and I got told several times already "Please, don't watch the episodes 2 and 3 alone, it will hurt."

I feel like blissfully walking among rainbows and blue skies while everyone else know that my future is doomed. Somehow.

(Uncomfortable silence)

Not only that, but then I spent a whole deal of time thinking "Where the heck I have seen these guys" cus there was some fmailiarity I couldn't just point out and then one day I woke up, brushed my teeth and of all sudden I realized and it was such a shock.

Do you know how SURREAL is to get very into a character, and into a ship, and then realize they're the same from that super widespread meme that has been around for who knows how much time?

I swear I thought that meme was from some old medieval fantasy movies or something.

But alas, Star Wars now is EVERYWHERE. People do references to Star Wars ALL THE TIME and it's just now I'm catching them.

I got spoilers. From a meme. In a youtube review that had nothing to do with Star Wars hah. Everything is a spoiler, the world is an apparent spoiler. Now I'm here, trying to avoid spoilers from something everyone seems to know, even my family knows. It's so surreal and I wouldn't have it any other way 😂

Anyways, if you read until here, know that a wild ride still waits me, cuz I'm only starting Season 3 of Clone Wars and I don't plan to watch the movies until I finish the series.

And yes, I made this blog just to ramble freely about SW and draw stuff because it sparked my inspiration after a long art block.

Have this doodle I drew after watching the two first episodes, my offering for you reaching this far.

Note: Wouldn't Anakin and Padmé's ship name be Animé? Cuz that's hilarious.

#rambling #star wars #star wars fandom #anakin skywalker #darth vader #the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #tcw fanart #clone wars

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eat-limes-bitches · 2 months

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Take A Chance

PAIRING: Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Who knew one look could calm the raging storm of his mind.

SONG Be Brave by Owl City

WARNINGS: Angst, (Bucky's self-loathing, anxiety, mention of nightmares, hinting to PTSD) Fluff!!!

Word Count: 1212

A/N: Hi! Here is the 2nd part! Sorry, it took so long! If you haven't read the first part yet you can click HERE to read it first, but you don't have to, you can read this as a stand-alone. I've already started part 3 so be on the lookout for that!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Bucky stood outside Joe’s coffee shop a little before nine, fiddling with the bouquet in his hands, tracing his eyes over the colored petals. He had asked the little old lady at the flower shop what would be best. She had looked him over thoughtfully before producing the bouquet with a smile, shooing him off insiting he not pay, as he was a regular there and had never bought flowers for a special someone before. He stuck the cash he intended to pay her in the tip jar and shuffled out the door and over to Joe’s where he was now standing.

Was this too old-fashioned? Do girls even like flowers anymore? What if she doesn’t even show up? I’ll look like an idiot.

He began to question himself, starting to become nervous. He rubbed a gloved hand over his thigh as he began to spiral, but a sweet voice pulled him out of it before he descended too far into madness.

“Hi, Bucky!”

Bucky froze and turned around to look at the speaker. Sure enough, there was the woman from the movie theater the night before. She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes bright and warm, chasing off the chill of the January air. Bucky shook his head and cleared his throat,

“Oh! Um- Hi, Y/n.” He offered her an awkward smile as he handed her the bouquet, “These are for you.”

She gingerly took the flowers from him, eyes wide as she looked at them before shifting her gaze up to his. The longer she stayed silent, the more dread he felt building up in his stomach.

“I-I’m sorry, it was probably stupid and old-fashioned but my ma woulda killed me if she knew I went to meet a pretty girl without flowers a-and I didn’t know what to get so the lady at the store told me-”

His rambling was cut off when Y/n waved her hand.

“No! I love them! It’s just, no one has ever bought me flowers before.” She said shyly, looking down at her boots. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be surprised, how had no one ever bought her flowers, he would never understand. He made a silent vow to himself to buy her as many flowers as he could.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you like them.” He said softly, the corner of his lips turning up in a small but genuine smile as he motioned to the coffee shop. “Shall we?” Y/n smiled and nodded and the pair made their way into the shop. As soon as Bucky opened the door, a sense of comfort washed over him along with the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. The pair shuffled inside and up to the counter. The kid who worked behind the counter on Saturdays came over and took their orders, saying that he would be bringing it over to their table shortly. Bucky motioned for Y/n to pick a seat and she picked the booth in the back of the shop.

“I hope you don’t mind,” She said as Bucky began to sit down, “I like to be able to see everything, makes me feel a little more at ease.”

Bucky smiled, he didn’t mind at all, in fact, he felt much more comfortable at the back of the shop. He was no longer the Winter Soldier but some of those habits are hard to break, like making note of every exit and entrance of a place, keeping a head count on everyone that entered and left, double locking doors, and many other little tics.

“No, this is fine,” he said with a smile, “This is my usual booth.”

She smiled brightly at him and seemed to relax a bit before asking, “So do you come here often?”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about his response, trying to decide how to say it without giving away who he was all at once.

“Uh yeah, a friend of mine brought me here when I was trying to find myself after coming back from a hard time in life.” He internally cringed at his explanation gauging Y/n’s reaction as she thought about his words. She gave him a soft smile and nodded before she spoke;

“Yeah, Steve was a great guy like that, I’m sure it’s been hard on you since he left.” Bucky felt his blood run cold Shit, she does know who I am, she thinks I’m a monster. How does she know Steve? Is she from HYDRA? I knew this was too good to be true, no one would ever want someone like me. His thoughts began to spiral out of control until Y/n tapped on the table to get him to look at her. She gave him a sheepish smile;

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like that. It wasn’t fair of me. I’m sure you think I’m a spy or something but I promise you I’m not. I was neighbors with Steve for a time. He spoke very fondly of you, even after all of the fighting and horrible things that happened to you and I’m sorry about that. No one deserves what you went through.”

Her words were soft and gentle as if she were talking to a frightened animal. Bucky blinked in surprise, staying quiet for a few moments before speaking again,

“You don’t think I’m a monster?” Her rasped out.

She gave him a sad smile as she placed her hand on top of his, “You’re not a monster. You’re a mirror, a thing that shows the reflection of the real monsters, with the cracks to prove that you lived through it. There is good in you, there always has been. It was the one thing in this century Steve was 100 percent certain of. I trust him and his judgment. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

These words triggered some sort of visceral response in Bucky. His racing heart slowed down, breathing coming back to normal levels, and his thoughts, for the first time in a while, stilled. The incessant hurricane of toxic thoughts and poisonous memories dissolved, leaving clear skies instead, something so beautiful it almost brought tears to his eyes. He looked down at the table and took her hand in his, looking back up with a soft smile.

Y/n gave His hand a gentle squeeze. She knew what he was trying to say, and she didn’t need to hear the words to know what it was. Their orders were brought out and so they shared small talk, which seemed to come so easily but he was taking little notes of each of her responses, not wanting to forget a single detail.

Favorite color? Bue, but not bright blue. Soft, like worn denim.

Dogs or cats? Both are great, but she currently has a dog.

Favorite time of day? Early evening. The world starts to darken and you can just see the stars poking through the colors of the sky.

The longer they talked, the more the storm was tamed in Bucky’s mind and he realized that he could get used to this kind of peace that he hadn’t known in a long time, only if she was there with him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you

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sister-cna-reader · 1 year

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DC x DP

“Do you know anyone willing to date a ghost-touched woman over 6ft tall?”

Barbara Gordon blinked slowly at the lanky teenager who asked the question. His arms were full of astronomy books and he was leaning in close as if it was a serious question.

“It depends? I’m a librarian, not a matchmaker.” she replied, holding her hands out for the books to scan. “Why are you asking? It’s an awfully specific criteria.”

Daniel Nightingale was the name of the boy before her. Just registered in the library system a little under 3 months ago. 17 years old and with that black hair, sky blue eyes and scars on the hand partially covered by a fingerless glove- Wayne adoption bait.

“My older sister is great and all.” he said, fidgeting with his sleeves, “But I think she needs to live a little you know? She’s so.. So….” he made a compressing motion with his hands, like packing a snowball.

“Repressed?” Barbara suggested, scanning the book on the Hubble Telescope.

With a snap of his fingers he grinned. “Exactly! Now if only I could find a guy for her that is ghost-touched…” he muttered under his breath.

“What do you mean by ‘ghost- touched’?”

“Oh you know,” he mimicked the paddles of a defibrillator, “Clear!” he chuckled.

Did this lady have a heart attack? Heart problems?

“I died but it didn’t stick, so someone who is like me would be good. Then we wouldn’t have to explain the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see.” the redhead said, not understanding much at all. “Due date for the books is in one month. I’ll keep an eye out for your sister?”

Danny nodded and gathered all the books into a beat up backpack. “You can’t miss her. Long red hair, super tall, looks like she’ll either have a nervous breakdown or murder someone if you bump into her.”

Barbara could only nod in agreement to the boy as he seemed to float out of Gotham Public Library.

Jazz was ready to shove her little not-quite-dead brother into the Fenton Thermos. She was doing well at her counseling position at the University, but Danny had insisted that her newfound hours of free time should be used in romantic pursuits.

“If you had friends you hung out with I won’t pester you. But Jazz! You need to do something fun!” He had said from the kitchen counter, hair glowing and eyes like two green beacons. “Live a little! We’re already part dead! Let go!”

So she trudged her way to the Public Library. If she had to get out of the house to shut her brother up, she’d at least be an introvert about it.

Jazz put on her best pleasant face and made her way to the librarian’s desk to get registered.

The woman behind the counter was like looking into a warped mirror. Glasses, hair just a shade brighter, and eyes the wrong color looked back at her in mirrored surprise.

“Bad hair day?” the mirror image guessed, pointing at the slouchy hat and messy bun that contained the mass of copper hair that Jazz hadn’t cut in the last year.

“Uh yeah. Little brother was pestering me about going out, so I’m here for a library card.” Jazz rambled, doing her best to not play with the strap of her purse.

“I’m Barbara, and welcome to Gotham Public Library!” The woman smiled warmly.

When Jazz handed over her ID for Barbara to input the required information in the database the lady smirked. “I met your brother a few days ago actually. Tall, scrawny, likes space?”

Jazz groaned. “I’m so sorry about him.”

The librarian’s glasses were white from the monitor. “Oh don’t worry about it, I know how younger siblings are. They mean well, they’re just annoying about it.”

Card squared away, Jazz went in search of a quiet corner to read a trashy romance novel in.

Jason took his rare day off to visit the Library. He was also going to drop off a coffee for Barbara, and maybe sweet talk some info out of her.

He needed some blackmail to lord over some birds.

“Jason! How good to see you in the daylight! Oh! Coffee! Gimmie,” his favorite tech person greeted.

Coffee offering made, Jason and Barbara traded information.

“You should take a load off.” She suggested, waving him away towards the adult fiction shelves as some patrons came to check out. “See you at dinner Sunday!”

The building was warm today, rare sunlight coming through the skylights and windows, making his leather jacket too hot to wear indoors. And there was nothing else pressing on his schedule today, so why not read a bit?

Austen novel in hand, Jason made his way to his favorite reading nook. Instead of the two empty armchairs he’d push together into a lounge, there was a woman already there, firmly in the ray of sun that made her red hair look like fire.

Her long legs were stretched out, boots cluncking together in a slow rhythm as she read.

“Oh,”

Bright green eyes startled and looked at him dead in the eyes. He blinked, and they were no longer green but a calming ocean blue.

“Sorry,” she said, folding her legs back to let him pass.

“Nah, it’s okay, I kind of want to soak in some sun too. Mind sharing?” Jason offered, fully prepared to leave the tall amazon alone. But deep down he felt something warm and grow fuzzy.

“Sure,” she scooted her chair over and pulled the other closer so they both shared the spot of sun. “I’m Jazz.”

He sat down next to her and the scent of her shampoo reminded him of the herby bread that Alfred made with soup. She stretched out again and he realized that her legs were much longer then his.

“I’m Jason.”

Inside the pit barely rippled.

Her phone beeped and she opened the beat-up thing to scoff. “Danny for Ancient’s sake,” she typed something out only for another beep to immediately reply.

Jason frowned. “Danny your boyfriend?”

Blue eyes met him in an exasperated roll. “No. He's just a little brother who can’t mind his own business. Now he wants a selfie to prove ‘I’m not alone being a cave troll.’ Just a sec.”

She started to angle away to send a picture of her flipping off the phone, but Jason pulled her closer and let his arm be visible around her shoulders in the selfie. He hadn’t thought, just acted.

There was a surprising amount of muscle under that sweater.

The pit purred in pleasure and Jason wanted to melt into the floor.

Jazz giggled, her smile showing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Oh he’ll be happy with this I think. Only thing that would be better is if you had a big black motorcycle. That’d send him through the roof.”

His breath hitched. The sun must’ve been too hot, and he felt himself grow warm under that bright smile.

“Would a black and red motorcycle do?” Was this flirting? Was he flirting? Was it working? He hoped it was working.

Those eyes lit up again and she tossed the book onto the chair, towering over him. “That’s perfect. He hates the idea of me on a motorcycle with a biker boyfriend.”

Jason stood up and tossed his jacket to Jazz with a feral smile. “Let’s get you some pictures riding a motorcycle my lady.”

The pit crowed in happiness, a rare thing when not caused by blood or murder. He made sure to get a few pictures of her on his bike with his own phone before remembering it should really be on Jazz’s phone, to send to Jazz’s brother.

Not wanting the fun time to end, he put his helmet in her hands. “I know a good burger joint. Want to stay out late? See some sights?”

He was so focused on the redhead woman in his leather jacket straddling his bike, he forgot about the other redhead with access to the security cameras.

#dp x dc prompt #anger manegment #jason todd #jasmine fenton #Jason/Jazz #danny phantom #Liminal Jazz #if I write more it'll go up on Ao3

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trulyumai · 2 months

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Oh, Mr. Mosses (Series) III

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being.

Will you be as smitten of him as he is of you? Only time will tell.

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Death

Oh, Mr. Mosses III

He shook under her touch. She lightly padded her fingers across his chest, going lower until they were right above his trousers. “You're so cute, Francis.” She mumbled, fumbling her hands with his belt, moving his undergarments lower and lower. He puffed, ignoring the comment, he could feel his face getting warm again. Lowering his hands, they met the underside of her thighs, so plush, so very soft.

“Please- ah! Please sweetheart,” He whispered, staring up at her lovingly. And although it came out as a beg, he began moving her clothes away himself, not waiting for an answer.

“Ah, ah, ah, patience darling.” She tutted, skirting his hands back to where they once were, each on one either side of her hips.

He groaned, letting his hands reside there as the warmth in his chest got unbearable. She was gorgeous, the moonlight peaked in behind his window, falling down and mirroring her gorgeous image. She was like an old painting, sitting there staring down at him. A nymph, a goddess.

And if it wasn't for the incessant beeping, he could have came right then and there just staring up at her. Those eyes, that slender neck, her chest-

Jolting upright he cursed. So fucking close, yet so far. With a sigh he leaned his legs over to the side of his bed. Covered in sweat he grimaced, ever since his meeting with the darling receptionist he's had these dreams, visions. He'd wake up in the same state; desperate, sweaty and needy. And oh so close to release.

With his elbows on his knees he sighed once more while looking at the clock, just beside his bedside. The red numbers mocked him and read out 4:30AM.

Today was going to be a long day.

“The reports my dear, were utterly ruined I tell you! Such an incompetent assistant I have, truly.” Mr. Gauss was a loud man, too loud for the poor receptionist to handle at the moment. He spoke of his job, his reports almost every meeting they would be unfortunate to have. With a sigh she handed his papers once more, yet it went unnoticed as he rambled on about his assistant. The poor lady who had spilled coffee over his reports this morning.

“Mr. Gauss,” She shook the ID in her hands once more, in case this time he would notice. He didn't.

“I'll tell you, the job couldn't be easier I mean, you should know shouldn't you darling? It's just a simple desk job!”

“Mr Gauss!” With a firm tone she pursed her lips, finally getting the older man's attention.

“Your papers, sir.”

“Oh how silly of me, thank you sweetheart! Listen, I'm getting a call but I'll see you soon my dear!” With a wink he was off, his attention already diverting to the phone that he pulled from his gray and black suit pocket.

Groaning, she slouched back down on her chair. Easy, she wished it was as simple as he made it. With no screaming residents, bloody faces and hands being slammed in her direction. Just the other day a mimic cried to her, screaming she was a murderer. It begged to be let in. “I'll die out there, please you don't understand!” Its tone was racked with fear, it shook with plenty of emotion and if it wasn't covered in someone's blood, she might have thought to let it inside. It went out with a fight too, one of the guards bodies had to be dragged out, their yellow hazmat suit stained in maroon. Everytime she blinked she could see his body, crumpled up in the corner of the lobby, limbs hanging limply at their sides, mask torn.

It was getting late, and soon she could go home, take a nice bath, forget about the color red for a while.

“Excuse me,”

“SHIT!” She jumped, not noticing the man standing just in front of the window. Holding her chest she cried out.

“Francis, jesus christ you startled me,”

With a light frown he reached out, letting his palm splay over the clear glass. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, are you okay?” Sweetheart? That was new, she thought, calming her chest as quickly as she could.

“It's okay I was just- I zoned out it seems,” she smiled, it was light, a comfort to the man in front of her.

With a small smile of his own he grabbed his forms, sliding them through the slot per usual.

“You're early, no one wanted any milk today?” She blinked up at him, grabbing the forms while staring blatantly at the taller man. His uniform was normal, the hat laid atop his black hair and his eyes were as tired as ever.

“You could say that,” The milkman mumbled, leaning comfortably over the counter, looking down at her as she compared the forms.

She began reading his ID, slowly as practiced, mouthing each number as she went.

235569-

“Hey.” Looking up she noticed how close the man got, closer than ever before. His face was practically touching the glass.

“Hi?” She looked at him confusedly, tilting her head to the side unconsciously.

“I'm free now. For the coffee?”

That's right! The date, she had nearly forgotten after the day she had. It slipped her mind, she would have worn something cuter, more revealing than this old sweater she's had stuffed in her closet. It was cold today, lightly sprinkling with rain from time to time so she grabbed the next best thing to keep her warm, not even thinking she would see Francis today.

“Oh! Um, yeah I have some back here if you'd like?” Skipping over the numbers she started comparing them.

23556941989-

BANG.

Francis hand made contact with the glass, his pale fingers flexed as they made contact, nails digging lightly into the material.

Noticing her hesitancy he laughed. “There was a bug, didn't mean to startle you. Again.”

Where was she again? At nine? No, perhaps the eight.

“Everything looks in order,” she mumbled, slowly glancing back up at the milkman. Smiling, she slid the papers to the side, fumbling for the keys around her pocket.

“One moment and i'll open the door okay?”

Francis said nothing but nodded, flexing his hands as she made her way towards the wooden door just to his left. With a click the door was open, Francis was already on the other side by the time it unlatched. Maybe he was just eager, she thought. That would be cute, no man had been eager to see her before, so the newfound feeling was exhilarating.

Standing aside she gestured him in. My was he much taller face to face, she only came up to his shoulders, if that. He stepped in, walking just past her towards the room on the side, where the little kitchen resided.

Closing the door she followed, humming a little tune as she grabbed coffee cups just past him. “How do you like your- oof!” Turning to talk to the man she was met with his chest, when had me moved so close?

“I'll get that, sweetheart,” He mumbled lowly, his voice just barely above a whisper. So quite, so low.

“Oh, um, okay” Without thinking she passed him the mugs, not even realizing she forgot to tell him her coffee preference before walking towards the door once more, to the front desk.

“I'm gonna make sure no one needs any help, I'll be right back!”

With a hum, the man got to work on the drinks, it was only then she noticed his hands. Veiner than normal, his nails were a little longer too, had they always been so sharp?

Turning her head she padded her way to the desk, to the forms residing on her desk.

Francis form stared back at her, along with his ID. Dusting her fingers over the numbers she read again.

235569418995

Now the other one

235569418895

No, she had to be mistaken. Reading it again, and again, the paper was starting to crumple with the amount of force she exerted from her fingers.

The numbers, she noticed, the numbers, there off by one number. How did she miss it?! Biting her lip she looked back towards the kitchen. The room had gone silent, she prayed she still had time. The D.D.D had to act fast, she still could live, it couldn't be too late. Glancing back in front of her she reached out, just before her hand met with the phone she felt it.

The pressure of someone standing behind her.

A breath on her neck.

Light nails digging into the side of her hips.

“Don't spoil the mood, pretty girl,” Francis sneered.

“Our night has just begun after all.”

She couldn't help but shake, she didn't want to die, this creature whatever it was wasn't prone to showing mercy. Any kindness whatsoever.

“Your coffee will get cold,” He teased, lightly reaching his hand up, playing with the hair around her face before displaying itself on her cheeks, tightly grabbing them until her lips protruded with the pressure.

“Such a daft little thing,” He tutted.

“Cute, but oh, so daft.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt tears spring loose, dribbling down her cheeks until they made contact with Francis' hand.

He laughed, a deep somber one before he craned his neck down, licking the salty liquid from her face. His slimy tongue stopped just before her eye, where she finally opened it to see him smiling at her.

His teeth. Jesus Christ they were so sharp. All of them pointy and white, each one more jagged than the other.

“I'm tempted to keep you, you’d be a good little listener wouldn't you?” With a mocking tone he squeezed her cheeks harder, until little red crescents were indented on her face.

"You're so good for me, so obedient." He moaned, rubbing his other hand around her body, going lower, and lower.

“Ah-!”

“Quiet!” He seethed, glancing now to the front desk. The window. It was then she noticed, a silhouette peering over the desk. A resident waiting to be checked in.

“Please,” She begged, more tears streamed down her soft face.

“Don't hurt me.”

Looking back over his squinted eyes, his pupils were dilated and his mouth slightly open and set in a frown.

“What the fuck did I say-

“Hello?” A masculine voice rang out. Francis. With widened eyes she gripped the hand covering her mouth, felt the roughness of the hand and shook.

The other Francis heaved, with anger he gripped the receptionist's face once more. Hands bloody he slid his thumb over her lips, lightly parting it and pushing the digit forward.

The taste of iron invaded her senses, wincing she tried to pull back but was only met with resistance.

“I'll be back, sweet thing.” He promised, pulling his finger back he looked at it with wild eyes. Putting it up to his own lips before sucking them clean.

“You be a good girl, you here?” He laughed, lightly smacking her cheek before entering the back. Towards the kitchen.

Without thought she ran to the desk, meeting the eyes of Francis, the real Francis.

Noticing her wide eyes and bloody mouth he looked with concern, eyebrows leaving a frown mark on his face.

“Are you alright?”

She wanted comfort, wanted help. With a light shake to her fingers she took his ID, not bothering to compare the numbers.

The rules. If she uddered anything about the mimics, the D.D.D, she would face even more backlash than she faced now. How was she supposed to bring this up to management, let alone Francis.

Gathering her thoughts she passed the ID back through. Putting on her best face she smiled at him, though it looked more like a grimace.

“Yes, just… A long day. You're free to pass,” With a touch of a button the elevator was left open.

Francis eyed her once more.

“Mmh, okay. You can call me if you need anything. I'm just a floor away.” Grabbing his ID he shifted uncomfortably. His tongue felt heavy and the words he wanted to say seemed to get stuck on the top of his mouth. With a tired gaze and small wave, the receptionist moved out of his sight and he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Maybe he'll ask for a coffee next time.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #francis mosses x you #thats not my neighbor #TNMY!#Horror #Horror Game #Player #X you #Slow burn #Romance #Fanfiction #X reader #Game x reader

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starberry-cupcake · 1 month

Text

I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience and your kind messages and comments ♥ you are so nice about my silly ramblings, I appreciate it a lot.

previously, on harrowsoup the ninth:

this happened

also I posted this and this as previews and this is the whole tag

currently, chapters 23-26:

"an atmosphere of greater unease had settled over the mithraeum"

aka the emperor's bolthole

btw, no kidding, harrow, I hadn't noticed the unease

so, harrow asks around about the herald situation

I have another deck with dragon heralds but I'm not gonna go on a card tangent this time (you're welcome)

everyone gives terrible and useless descriptions

emperor johnny boy says "Whenever they come I am bundled off to a sealed sanctum at the heart of the Mitrhaeum, so that their insanity can't touch me"

asshole coward awful man

harrobean is trying to ask why emperor asshat is so sure about her having to die and if there's no way she can make it

emperor johnny says yandere twin isn't that good at being a lyctor yet, even if she's surprising and that if he was still giving silly names, he'd name her "Saint of Awe"

harrow thinks "that had not quite suited Naberius"

get perpetually owned, chad

harrow also mentions not being able to remember things well

YOU THINK, HARROW?

"it was as though your brain had formed a scab over everything that had happened to you"

I don't think that scab is healing well

emperor johnny insists on the rapier

idk why they all insist on the rapier

gideon and camilla didn't like it and were the fucking best cavaliers ever

ARE, THEY ARE THE BEST CAVALIERS EVER

PRESENT TENSE

but anyway, at this point, it could very well be emperor johnbro has aesthetic demands

not like he'll explain anything

harrowbean sees not!dulcinea's door closed, which isn't usual

she second guesses a bit because she can't always trust what she sees and she remembers crux saying "you saw what you saw, Lady, and the only thing you control now is your reaction thereto"

I didn't like that old man, but that's pretty cool of him to say

harrow opens the door and sees this

alleged gideon the first aka ortus tells harrow to go away very calmly and in a way that is too nice for him, apparently

harrow is upset at the display in front of her salad and goes to complain to yandere twin

which is a terrible place to complain at because she's both into gossip and into kink

if you want someone to take this seriously, that's the last place to go to

"at least you know who's been moving her—so to speak"

this is what we get combining yandere twin and chad

I've used that gif twice for her already

I forgive her, though, because she says "god is a dickhead" and she's right

she also asks harrow to try to remember why emperor john god has given her the sword

and establishes that harrow previously did something to her jaw so that she couldn't tell her

that's going in the 3d model

CHAPTER 24

apparently people are being less mean to harrowbean because they're already mourning her

harrow says that alleged gideon the first aka ortus has the name ortus because "it was just a banal and uncomfortable coincidence, as though he'd carried the name of a dead childhood pet"

she believes that the name must have caught on in the ninth because anastasia must have like brought it in and named people after her pal

I think he's named gideon

and that our gideon is named after him because of direct relationship of some capacity, maybe to someone involved

I considered the mom, but it's uncertain

in any case, he has to die

so, harrow puts a lot of wards and safety things in her room

kind of like this

home alone styling it

but apparently alleged gideon the first aka ortus can bypass wards

much like the sleeper/waker

much like not!dulcinea

wards are basically pointless, I guess, at this point

so he goes into her bathroom when she's bathing because here in the emperor's bolthole, everyone's a disrespectful asshole

harrowbean says he's "a thanergy void" and "the ultimate nemesis of a bone adept"

he tries to kill her while she's looking like this

I want to give this child some cocoa and play a comfort movie for her, like "the bone collector"

she ended up using the teeth she lost in the fight as projectiles in his eyes and got him to leave

she ended up bloody, unmoving, wet, naked and collapsed on the ground to which yandere twin live reacted to and left

she could have given her a hand

or an arm

she decided alleged gideon had to die and ice cube barbie aka probably annabel lee agreed

when gideon was among us, there was not enough time for her to throw hands at people and here there's so many people she could be throwing hands at and she's not here to do so

camilla too, but camilla threw hands at martita in a way that was legendary enough

CHAPTER 25

harrow goes with the chisme to dr reverend professor emperor john

she says "I swear by the Locked Tomb"

to which he replies "I wouldn't swear by that in this instance"

which I sure hope doesn't mean anything nasty with my girl ice cube barbie annabel lee because I'm gonna kill this man

she might not be entirely alive (maybe she is, maybe she's just suspended or something) but she deserves better than this piece of work

then he says "well, that's unfortunate"

this man really knows how to handle a situation, huh

emperor john says that it's pretty unlikely that alleged gideon the first aka ortus was doing the dirty with not!dulcinea because he never showed interest before and is "legendarily unamorous"

that's another tshirt I need

I need that one and the witch one immediately

also, now we've got a problem

not just because my telenovela about how this man might or might not be related to our gideon got more convoluted

but also because if alleged gideon is aroace, I'm gonna have to stan

I don't make the rules over here, I have to stand by my people

I have a conflict of interest now

emperor john also says "you must think us all a depraved set of immortal criminals"

I mean yes, I do, but not because of sexy times with zombies

I'm not here to judge the sexytimes of necromancers and whatever they do in their spare time

I don't know the intricacies of consent with ghosts or whatever, I can't be imparting judgment

it's not that, emperor john

it's because you're unpleasant war criminals who are killing planets for fun

well, the war criminal part I don't have hard evidence on rn but the situation doesn't seem to be in the favor of these people

I feel like when this man talks about the overall situation I'm getting a speech from emperor palpatine

emperor reverend john asks harrow, who has been awake for 25 years, to go to sleep

yeah, sure, she should go to sleep and wait for this guy to come by and try to kill her for the millionth time

meanwhile, harrowbean keeps collecting hours without sleep like

she makes, at the request of emperor camp counselor john, soup for everyone

I don't remember if it was here or before and I forgot but, this is extremely important

they mentioned cassiopeia being the one who cooked before

cassiopeia the same one with the ceramics collection, if I'm remembering correctly

cassiopeia who was also from the sixth, I think

camilla's house

she's checking every single one of my boxes like a sniper

why isn't she here, we're stuck with the grumpy one and the senior chad

ANYWAY, at the mention of harrow cooking I thought, immediately, "that's an awesome way to kill this guy"

I was picturing more like a poison type situation, although I didn't know how that could be achieved

something like this

but I should have known poison was too subtle for harrowcita

like I established back when protozoa's head was found in her closet, subtle isn't harrow's style

so it was more like this

basically, harrow sectioned her tibia to put some in the soup and then she could necrobend it so that it attacked from the inside

if I'm getting it right

insane plan and I love it

emperor john shadyman says "ten thousand years since I've eaten human being, Harrow, and I didn't really want an encore."

were they snacking on people during the Resurrection???

did they kill people by making lunch?????

???????????????????????????????????????????

"you think we're bad because we have sexy times with ghoulies?? uwu" that's the least of my concerns johnny john man

harrow then breaks down and asks straight to his face WHY THE FUCK MUST SHE SUFFER LIKE THIS

she calls herself a nonsense

the only nonsense here is what this emperor man speaks

she tells him she hasn't slept in six days

for a sleep deprived plan, it was excellent tbh

emperor man over here asks yandere twin to take her to sleep

and then stays with mercygirl to whom he says it's insane that harrow could do what she did and how did mercygirl miss that

this is the situation, as I have previously established

augustine looks at harrow "as if he had seen the ghost of someone he did not particularly like"

alleged gideon the first aka ortus salutes her on her way out

he doesn't even have heartburn

CHAPTER 26

we're back on gideon-less canaan house because it's time for more people to die

in ways that make 0 sense at all for what we know so far

regina george twin is pushed to her death by mayonnaise uncle

sounds fake to me

like, come on

regina george twin can probably murder that feeble guy on sight

we saw her spar with gideon, she wanted to be the cav that chad ended up being

she might not be a necro but she can stand her ground in a physical fight

mayonnaise uncle without duracell bunny nephew is like a sweaty guy on an anime con complaining about girls ruining everything while buying a maid figurine

she can take him

anyway, he does that and he says to her "and somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered"

now, this is weird

is he talking about yandere twin?

he wants revenge because yandere twin obliterated him?

is yandere twin "out there"?

I'd say this might be limbo BUT CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD

harrow is going to him and he says "she has not remembered her end" "is this how it happens then?"

and then he yeeted himself into space

that's what I wanted to do with not!dulcinea all along

so, yeah, well, this canaan business is getting more complicated now that it's not just people being shot

people are throwing themselves and others into space

and the memories of harrow in the emperor's bolthole aren't completely lining up with these

and mayonnaise uncle seemed to have been more aware of things than others around here?? or maybe just more forthcoming??? in that cryptic otaku way of his

also, no camilla at all still

Things are heating up in the emperor's bolthole, hope to come back soon with another one and thanks for the patience, hope it was worth it.

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

My Blessing

Back when Eddie was still human, he used to think it would be incredibly cool to be a vampire. Child of the night, Nosferatu, all that stuff from his beloved books. He would be untouchable and the people who wanted to hurt him just for being different would wither away and die of old age while he'd still be the same. Maybe he'd visit them in their dying hour and sneer at them, taunt them as they were about to see what awaits beyond. All of that used to sound so good.

As he's learned during last 80-ish years, being a vampire sucks (no pun intended).

He sees it all. World wars. AIDS epidemic. Satanic panic. More and more pain, people wasting away before his eyes. The music is cool, but he wonders if he'll grow tired of it all. Eddie is still young, he doesn't want to believe that this is all there is. But each year, each decade makes him more and more hopeless.

And he's so, so lonely. He still has Wayne, his vampire uncle (he categorically denies the term "father" or "maker"), but he sometimes too resigned, too used to all the pain and violence. He doesn't know many other vampires and making any sort of a connection with a human is painful to think about. People are so fragile.

He's always loved turning into a bat and just flying around the city, avoiding the curious eyes of humans and finding lone vantage points, observing the night life on the streets. One of his favorite spots is on top of the Harrington bank, a building from the 1920s with old bronze statues and old, tall windows. He started visiting the ledge in late 1980s, sometimes spending the entire night there. He'd land on the ledge and turn back to his real form, plopping down next to a statue of a young man. It's so human-like, Eddie forgets it's just an object, a piece of art, and talks to it. He tells it about the stuff that has been happening in the world, all that's fucked up but also the good things, how he saw a group of girls chasing away a stalker of a random lady, a homeless guy giving his last few bites to a stray dog. How a kid he used to know in the 80s is now all grown up and has children of his own. He sometimes wonders who made the statue, but there is no signature, no mark, just that pretty face looking down at the street, lost in thought.

It's on a stormy night in 2022 that it happens. Eddie lands in his favorite spot, lights up a cigarette (immortal lungs are a great thing to have) and talks to the statue, as always. Tells it how he actually wrote a novel and got it published, summers are long and the daylight doesn't kill him but it sure hurts, rambles about how he got Wayne his first flannel shirt and it was love at the first sight. The rain is thick, heavy, but Eddie likes it, it makes him feel a bit more alive. He hears thunder, closer and closer, but the lightning is probably somewhere behind him, he doesn't see it.

That is, until it hits the statue, and Eddie panics because sure, it was just an object, but it was like his friend, it was a constant in his life, what is he going to do-

And then the statue straightens its spine and groans.

Eddie's cigarette falls somewhere into the streets and burns a hole in the umbrella of a lady bitching about the undeserved help provided to the poor. Not that he notices. His eyes are glued to the statue that stretches its arms and runs its fingers through the thick hair that suddenly has color, a sun-kissed brown, and then it turns to Eddie and smiles.

"Oh finally, I was waiting for ages to introduce myself. Hi. Thanks for keeping me company all those years. I'm Steve. Steve Harrington."

Eddie shakes the offered hand in daze and mutters "Eddie, Eddie Munson" before promptly turning into a bat and...what? Does he want to run away? Does he want to shriek his little heart out and never come back? Probably not. Not with Steve smiling at him like he's the best thing in the whole world. So he just lands on Steve's outstretched hand and squeaks "Still Eddie Munson, only pocket size."

And Steve, bless his heart - does he have one? Do statues have hearts? - just laughs and tucks Eddie under his old-fashioned jacket to protect him from the rain. "Oh, I know. The first time you landed here and turned back, I thought I'd finally gone crazy."

He opens a window behind them and climbs inside with Eddie, a window that's always been dark, the only dark room in the whole building. And then they talk. Well, Steve does.

That's when Eddie learns the room is Steve's, preserved, stocked and cleaned throughout the decades. That he's the only son of the founder of the bank, Richard Harrington, now fortunately long dead and burning in hell. That even before the Great Depression hit, the bank was facing difficulties and Richard Harrington decided to make a deal with...something. Something ancient and lurking in New York, something feeding off the misery of people living there.

That's when Eddie learns that Richard Harrington offered his only son to preserve his fortune.

He just stares as Steve shrugs, retelling his story as if it was no big deal, finding a change of clothes for both of them in a huge closet full of things both old and new, a strange blend of fashion spanning last century. "It was a deal for one hundred years. One hundred years of prosperity for one hundred years of...that. I guess my father felt a little bit guilty afterwards because he included in his will that I'd always have a place to come back to. This room. And some financial security too, that's what he'd said before he passed away. He used to talk to me through that window sometimes, after my mother drank herself to death."

"Uhhh." Edward Munson, ever the eloquent fantasy book author, has nothing better to say.

He turns back to Eddie, smiling at him and offering a black t-shirt. "I don't think he knew I could hear him, that I heard and saw everything. Still, nice to know he cared...as much as he was humanly able to." The smile doesn't falter as he adds: "I don't want to sound pushy, but maybe you should turn back to change clothes? You're still wet."

And oh, Eddie is still a bat. Yep. With a sound that sounds like a plop, he transforms back and takes the t-shirt. "Thank you. Steve. Uh. That's fucked up, man," he offers lamely.

"Oh yeah, it sucked. Well, used to," he nudges Eddie, tossing him a towel when he sees his hair dripping on the floor. "But then you started showing up. Talking to me." Now his smile is slightly smaller, sad, and Eddie wants to visit Richard Harrington's grave and punch his remains, build them into a bird feeder, revive the asshole and kill him again. "It was just...so lonely. I had no way of telling you, but when you started visiting and just, kept showing up, almost every day, it felt like a blessing."

Eddie swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "A blessing?"

"Yeah." Steve turns to him and the sincerity in his eyes is so intense Eddie feels like turning into a bat again and flying in circles, shrieking into the night. "You were my blessing, Eddie," he says as he squeezes his hand.

And Eddie just stares, his undead heart breaking for this boy, cursed just as horribly if not worse than he is. "You know I'm not...not human, right?" he whispers but his hand doesn't leave Steve's. "I guess you can probably tell from the bat thing, or that I'm literally the room temperature-"

"-or the fact that you once told me that it's a shame I'm not alive because I look delicious and you're sure my blood would be too," add Steve with a mischievous smirk.

"Uh. Shit, yeah. That too," Eddie stutters, trying to recall all the embarrassing stuff he told Steve during the last thirty or so years. "That...doesn't bother you?"

Steve snorts in laughter and shakes his head. "You literally thought I was a piece of bronze an hour ago, man. Does that bother you? Did you prefer me when I didn't talk?"

Eddie scoffs at that, offended. "Hell no. You were just a pretty face, but now you're a pretty face with a ton of personality. I...you know, you were my blessing too, I think. Even if you couldn't answer, I didn't feel as much alone next to you. Is that weird to say?"

The squeeze of Steve's fingers gives him the answer he needs, but he still melts inside when he hears "not at all. I just hope you won't get bored of me now that I'm...different," he whispers, staring at their joined fingers. "You'll probably find me boring. I don't know much about what's going on outside. I could watch and you told me a lot, but...uh. The world seems so hectic and fast-paced, it will probably take me a while to catch up."

And Eddie has to laugh because that worry is so strange to hear voiced out loud, as if Steve being alive, breathing and next to him, as if that made him something less. "Oh just you wait, Steve. You spent over thirty years listening to me ramble, now I'm expecting at least thirty years of your monologues so we can be even. You know my dirtiest secrets now and I'm a man with a thirst for knowledge. Really," he adds because the young man next to him is still silent, "you have nothing to worry about. I've kept you company and you have done the same for me...and it works for us. So what's a little confusion about these modern days? Come on pretty boy. I will be your guide."

Steve gives him a smile that is so radiant Eddie thinks it should hurt, it should burn him like a torch, but it's just warm. Kind. "I can work with that."

Steve is the only human Eddie ever turns. He expects to agonize over it for much longer, to feel guilty, but Steve has already lived longer than he has and he still has thirst for life that is infectious, something that drives Eddie to join him, try new things, not mourn what is lost to time but be thankful that he has the chance to see it all. He finally wants to participate, to join the world again, not just observe it.

The first time Steve turns to a bat, he ends up flying in circles in absolute ecstasy, laughing and making the weirdest somersaults and loops. Eddie could watch him forever and the best part is - he can. And he does.

But before all that, Eddie brings Steve to see Wayne, to introduce him to his only family. Wayne shakes his hand and gruffly laughs: "Well, look at that. My boy has finally moved on from that statue."

Without missing a beat, Steve smiles at him and announces "oh not at all, sir. I'm the statue."

Eddie has some explaining to do, but for now, he just laughs.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #vampire AU #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things ficlet

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moamidzyism · 4 months

Text

ghostin (l.dh)

wc. 2559

genre. angst

tags. haechan x fem!reader, the one who got away (kinda), unrequited love, warnings: infidelity (kind of, emotional, very much one sided), mentions of alcohol

a/n. this is based off of ghostin by ariana grande. this is really sad (like even as i was writing this i was like that's a new low even for me) but i really hope you enjoy it because i really enjoyed writing this. this is the first thing i've written for haechan, my muse , my angel, my sunflower but i have so many ideas now hehee. this was also supposed to be like 400 words, oops.

more of my work

one: he leaves you

from haechan 🤍: i just got the keys to my new place from haechan 🤍: it’s so much better than the pictures from haechan 🤍: i really wish you were here

your phone buzzes on your night stand.

picking it up, you can feel your heart breaking into pieces all over again as you read the text messages. i really wish you were here. you try to stifle the tears bubbling up in your eyes, so as to not wake up the man sleeping beside you.

but it is no use. you can feel your boyfriend stirring awake beside you. “are you okay? who was that?”

“just haechan,” you respond, in between sniffs. “he just moved into his new place.”

with an understanding nod, he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you. you nuzzle closer to him, taking up all his warmth. it isn’t what you want, but it is what you have. he lays beside you, gently stroking your hair. “it’s okay, i got you.” he whispers until you fall asleep.

if only that could solve everything, but at least it brings you comfort in this moment.

two: he loves you

from haechan 🤍: hiiiii from haechan 🤍: im sooo drynk riggt now from haechan 🤍: can i calll you??

you can barely respond when his call comes in.

you’re sitting on the couch of your boyfriend’s friend’s apartment. all night, they’ve been playing drinking games and you’ve occasionally joined in, but you mostly sat with your boyfriend’s arm around you as you nursed your diet coke.

when your phone rings, everyone stops to look at you. “i, uh, i should take this.” you stammer, walking out of the room, but not before shooting your boyfriend an apologetic glance.

“hae, are you okay?” you whisper into the phone.

“that rhymes,” he giggles on the other side of the line.

“i know,” you can’t help but smile, thinking about just how much you wish he was here with you. “are you okay?”

“things are so different here,” he begins, “especially without you.”

you feel your heart skip, but then you look back into the hallway and you see your boyfriend and his friends laughing together and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. “haechan, i don’t know what to say.”

“i know, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have called you.”

“no, it’s not that. i don’t want you to feel like i’m not here for you anymore, just because you’re not here anymore. just tell me what’s up? how’s your life there?”

you sit on the floor in the hallway listening to haechan ramble about his apartment, and how his neighbors are super loud at night, and how the doorman always glares at him when he walks in, and how the old lady that lives above him always bakes him cookies to thank him for bringing in her groceries. he goes on about his job, and his coworkers, and his bosses, and the friends he’s made there. and he does this until he falls asleep.

all eyes are on you when you walk back into the living room after you hang up. you return back to your seat. “i’m tired, i wanna go home.” you tell your boyfriend, who is shifting in his seat beside you.

he bids his friends farewell and the two of you leave.

the car ride home is completely silent, save for the pop song playing on the radio. “what did he want?” your boyfriend finally asks you.

“i don’t know,”

“you were on the phone with him for an hour and a half?”

“i think he just needed someone to talk to.”

you can’t tell if he was jealous or angry at you at this moment but you both leave the car enveloped in a quiet unease that neither of you address ever again.

three: you lose him

from haechan 🤍: i’m going to be in town this week from haechan 🤍: i would really love to see you

you stood in front of the vanity in your bathroom, re-applying your lipgloss for the third time already. the day you would see haechan after eight months was finally here and you just wanted to look perfect.

your boyfriend appears next to you as you put your things away. “how do i look?” you asked him, staring at him intently through the mirror.

“you look beautiful,” he says. the sadness that is always lingering in his eyes and in his voice is still there, but you don’t seem to notice.

“i’m really nervous,” you hold a mirror close to your face, anxiously monitoring how your makeup looks.

“do you want me to drive you there?”

“you don’t have to,”

“i want to,” he tells you before leaving the room. “i’ll be waiting downstairs.”

you sit in the passenger’s seat of your boyfriend’s car, twiddling with the hem of your skirt, excitedly counting down the minutes until you’re in the booth of the diner that you and haechan always would go to before he moved.

you finally arrive and your boyfriend parks at the front. “call me if you need anything.” he leans in to give you a kiss.

pulling away, you open your purse and reapply your lipgloss.

“thank you again for driving me here.”

“it’s not a problem. i love you, you know that right?” he asks you.

“yeah, i do.” you exit the car, closing the door behind you.

you pick your booth by the window and watch your boyfriend’s car drive off. the soft hum of the conversations around you weave through the air as you patiently wait for him, your fingers tracing the condensation on the side of the glass of water you ordered when you got there.

finally the door chimes, signaling his entrance. he walks in holding the hand of a girl whose presence immediately sends ripples of disappointment down your spine.

time seems to pause as you observe them approach your table. a myriad of emotions danced across your face, and as he looks into your eyes, you try your best to stop your smile from faltering.

“it’s so good to see you,” he greets, a genuine warmth in his voice. you stand up to hug him and you enter into a collision of past memories and present uncertainties.

“you too, haechan. i’ve missed you,” you reply.

and then he introduces her – the girl whose hand he held, whose presence altered the dynamics of this reunion. “this is my girlfriend.”

that ten letter word that you were dreading. you knew it was true but you were hoping that you could somehow convince hope to make it not true.

you had been so consumed by the fantasy of what could have been – what should have been.

it should have been you. he should have told you that he loved you. he should have asked you to be his girlfriend. he should have told you to drop everything and run away with him. he should have chosen you every step of the way,

but he didn’t.

and maybe if he did, it would have been you sitting beside him in the booth, holding his hand so tightly, like he would disappear in a moment. it would have been you causing his eyes to crinkle in the way that it does when he laughs. it would have been you making him feel so happy and so complete.

but it wasn’t.

you wanted to be happy for him. because he was finally happy again and that was the most important thing to you – his happiness, and his smile, and his joy that just hasn’t been there in a while. but how could you be happy when you’re mourning the greatest loss. you always lived with the thought that there could, possibly, sometime in the future, be a chance that the two of you could make it work. but as he fed his girlfriend a fry from off his plate, you realized that was never going to happen.

“do you want us to take you home?” haechan asked after he had paid the bill.

you could think of about five hundred and fifteen things you would rather do than be in the car for even ten minutes with them. “no, my boyfriend isn’t too far from here.”

you stand outside the diner as your boyfriend’s reliable gray car pulls up to the front.

“how was it?” he asks you when you sit down.

“i don’t really want to talk about it,” you say quietly.

you spend the rest of that weekend wrapped up in your comforter, only coming out of bed to eat when your boyfriend begged you to.

on monday morning, he comes into the room. “do you still want to go to my sister’s engagement party? it’s fine if you’re not up for it. i’ll just let her know.”

“no, i think i’ll be fine.” you weakly answer, “i want to go.”

that evening you manage to get yourself dressed and dolled up even though you feel completely lethargic. when you arrived at the party, you stood at your boyfriend’s side as he greeted his sister and her fiancée. the four of you stood for a while, chatting. at least the three of them were. you, on the other hand, were trying to find the easiest way to slip away to the open bar.

eventually you found your out – your boyfriend was called to talk by some family friends and you could finally escape to the bar. “can i get a martini, please?” you ask the bartender.

you sit at the bar, scrolling through your texts with haechan again. he had texted you a few times since you saw each other at the diner, but you just didn’t have it in you to respond to him. locking your phone, you look around the party, spotting your boyfriend talking to some of his old friends. he looked so happy and you couldn’t help but feel sorrier and guiltier for the way you’ve been feeling the past few days. but that didn’t stop you from flagging the bartender again to order another martini.

the bartender had replaced your drink twice already when they called you for dinner. you stand up from the barstool, your movements betraying the effects of intoxication to the bartender. “i think we need to cut you off now,” they joke with you.

you laugh it off, but still appear unsteady. you make your way over to your table, a slight sway in your posture. you kept telling yourself to keep walking straight, but as you weaved through the tight dining space, your steps were marked by a wobbly and lurching quality.

you finally make it to the table, not so elegantly sliding into your assigned seat.

“where were you?” your boyfriend leans in to ask you.

“at the bar,” you whisper yell in response.

“we can tell,” his sister jokes across the table from you. you give her a tight lipped smile.

the waiter places the dishes on the table. everyone digs into the meals in front of them, but your appetite is absent. instead of savoring it, you absentmindedly toy with the food on your plate. your boyfriend, concerned, softly encourages you to eat but you brush off his suggestion, insisting that you’re not hungry.

“you haven’t eaten all day,” he persists and for some reason, that just sparks frustration within you. you abruptly excuse yourself from the table, stumbling as you hastily exit the dining hall. you hear your boyfriend hurriedly apologize to the rest of the table before following you outside.

“what’s going on?” he calls out after you.

“nothing, i just don’t want to be in there.”

“you told me that you wanted to be here.”

“well, i don’t anymore.”

“can you please talk to me?” he pleads, genuine concern in his voice.

“i can hear everyone talking about me,” you confess, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

confused, he asks, “what?”

“i know your friends hate me. your sister hates me too.”

“what? no one hates you.” he insists, trying to reassure you. “they love you; they just don’t know you like i do.”

with a straight face, you dismiss his words. “you don’t have to lie to me. no one loves me.”

his eyes widen in disbelief. “i love you.”

“well, haechan doesn’t,” you declare softly.

“what?”

“haechan doesn’t love me.” his name heavy on your lips, like it was a bad word that you weren’t allowed to say.

a moment of silence hangs in the air as he processes your revelation. he scoffs, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. “what is this about?” he sits down beside you.

“he has a girlfriend,” a heavy revelation hangs in the air. the dim lighting of the quiet street casts a shadow on both of you.

“oh,” he pulls you into him, his strong arms enveloping you. the scent of his cologne surrounds you as you rest your head against him, closing your eyes to shield you from your reality. unbeknownst to you, he struggles to keep his bittersweet smile at bay. he wants to comfort you and be there for you but he can’t help but love knowing that now he doesn’t have to share you with someone that you never belonged to.

the silence stretches, broken only by the muffled sounds of distant traffic. his soft hands caress your arms in an attempt to soothe the storm of emotions raging within you. your tears stream down your face onto his suit jacket as you find solace in the warmth of his embrace.

after a while, you sit up straight. “i’m sorry,” you say, your voice barely audible.

“it’s fine,” he reassures you. “i can get it dry cleaned.”

you shake your head. “no, not the suit.” he cocks his head in confusion. “i mean for everything.”

“y/n,” he begins, but you cut him off.

“i’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“no you’re not,”

“you’re so good to me and i’m terrible to you. that’s why your friends hate me. that’s why your sister hates me. i’m so selfish. i’m so horrible. i–”

“you’re not selfish or horrible.”

“i am.”

“you’re not.” he lifts a hand to gently wipe away a lingering tear on your cheek.

“i spent a weekend crying about some guy who has a girlfriend, while you were at the door waiting for me to come out,”

his sighs, taking in the weight of your words but refusing to let you dwell in self blame. “you guys have a history that i guess i don’t understand.”

“i heard your sister telling you to break up with me.”

he looks down the quiet street, a furrow forming on his brow as he recalls that conversation. “i-”

you look at him, your eyes searching for answers“i know you defended me, but sometimes i wonder why you don’t just break up with me.”

“because, i love you.” the words echo in the quietness.

“i hurt you. every day of our relationship, i have hurt you. you never say anything, but i know it hurts watching me cry over him.”

he meets your gaze, sincerity in his eyes as he navigates the intricate web of emotions between the two of you. “i still love you.”

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#fay's works #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan angst #lee haechan #lee haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan smut #lee donghyuck #donghyuck #donghyuck angst #nct x reader #nct angst #nct smut #nct fluff

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Note

Hey first off I love your fics and I was wondering if we could get a head over (tar) heels ticket x

head over (tar) heels ficlet

"ahh so you found your lady balls then less?" lois grinned wolfishly as lotte nudged the girl and sent her a disapproving look. "what? she did!" lois defended, alessia rolling her eyes as the three of them jogged around the pitch for warm ups.

"yes i found my lady balls and kissed her, thank you for that lojo." alessia sighed as lois nodded happily stating she was welcome. "anyway! so then what happened?" lotte redirected, the three of them speeding up at the coaches request.

"well i asked her on a date...tonight." alessia admitted nervously, both girls beside her whipping their heads around to stare at her in disbelief. "tonight! where? when? what?" lois spluttered out in shock.

"so you weren't even going to admit you liked her yesterday, and now you've kissed her, admitted your feelings and asked her on a date? you're working fast here less." lotte laughed as the blonde groaned.

"don't remind me."

"hello you! you look lovely." you beamed at alessia, standing up from the bench you'd both agreed to meet on outside your dorm building, both too aware of the lingering nosy eyes of the student body that would follow if either one of you picked the other up from their rooms.

"and you look beautiful." alessia smiled, eyes roaming you up and down taking you in properly as the two of you started to walk off campus. again wanting to avoid the rumor mill alessia had booked the two of you a table at a local restaurant in town.

the conversation flowed like normal as you sat pressed together in the back of the uber, no different than any other time the two of you would be hanging out.

though once you reached the restaurant and sat down together, the reality of the situation dawned on alessia and suddenly things weren't as they seemed.

normally the blonde was confident and sure of herself, and though she could be soft spoken at times most of the time you spent with her she was doing anything and everything she could to make you laugh or smile, two things of which were her favorite to see and hear.

but tonight there was a different energy and as you rambled away like normal alessia found herself stumbling over her words, developing a stutter that hadn't surfaced she was about seven years old, finding herself overthinking everything and anything she said and did.

you tried to ease her through it and pretend like you didn't notice, making every effort you could to try and settle her, asking simple questions and being the one to make jokes for once to try and get her to relax.

though when that didn't work and the poor girl knocked over her full coke onto the table, face flushing bright red and stammering out an apology, shooting to her feet and trying her best to mop it up with napkins.

you assured her it was fine and tried to speak up again but as the waitress arrived the footballer excused herself and rushed off to the bathroom. you watched her go with an empathetic frown, waving the waitress back and asking if you could both grab your food to go instead.

"less? can i come in?" you spoke up quietly and knocked on the bathroom, a beat of silence passing before you heard it unlock and you gently pushed the door open stepping inside.

"hey. whats wrong?" you asked with a concerned frown, alessia sighing as she splashed a little water on her neck and straightened up. "i don't know!" the taller girl groaned hiding her face in her hands which was still blushed rosy pink.

"alessia." you smiled, grabbing her hands and gently tugging them away, interlocking your fingers and squeezing.

"we've been for dinner here like ten times. maybe not as a date but still sometimes it was just us and it was fine. you need to get out of your own head, just because this is a first date doesn't mean we have to go through the whole nervous awkward small talk thing." you teased lightly as she cracked a smile.

"i grabbed our food to go. how about we just go back and eat somewhere on campus, no fancy location, no awkwardness, no tables to spill a drink on!" you grinned as the blonde pouted and mumbled to stop being mean.

leaving her behind to actually use the toilet you grabbed the bags of food and waited for her outside, the tall blonde joining you and finally appearing much more like her normal self as the two of you went for a walk.

finding a park nearby you sat down on a picnic table and began to unpack the food, the conversation flowing like normal as alessia seemed to feel much more herself now the setting was a little less formal.

your food finished and rubbish discarded the two of you were laid down atop the picnic table watching the clouds as the sun set, the warm weather meaning the sun was still up and the days were longer which was one of your favourite times of year.

"that one looks like a rabbit!" alessia pointed out as you laughed. "i don't know what sort of rabbits you have in england but they're not like american ones." you teased as her shoulder bumped into yours.

"do you think they see the same clouds in england as the ones here?" you commented with a slight frown. "well its night time there right now so.." alessia trailed off with an amused smile. "thats not what i meant and you know it!" you smacked her lightly as the girl grabbed your hand, sliding her fingers in between yours.

"very smooth russo." you teased, leaning over to kiss her cheek and looking back up to the sky above.

"oh that one looks like a football! you pointed out another cloud, glancing up in surprise as alessia now hovered above you with a grin. "what? it does, doesn't it?" you frowned in confusion as the blonde shook her head.

"you said football instead of soccer ball and i didn't even need to correct you, i'm rubbing off on you!" alessia beamed proudly as you groaned and she flopped back down beside you wiggling happily.

"don't get used to it." you shook your head withholding a smile. the cloud replaced by stars quite quickly though it wasn't completely dark the two of you hopped down and raced over to the playground.

"go on, i'll push you." alessia challenged nodding to the swings as you sat down and grabbed on tightly. "okay high enough less." you laughed as the footballer continued to step back and back. "alessia!" you shrieked as she lifted you even higher, toned arms held well above her head.

"oh my-" you yelled as she let go and pushed at your back, the swing flying wildly as you clutched on tightly and the english girls laugh echoed around the park and she pushed you somehow even higher.

"okay enough!" you warned with a laugh as she gave you one final shove and jogged around toward the front. "jump off." the striker grinned as you gave her a look of disbelief. "i'll catch you i promise, go!" alessia laughed opening her arms as you took a deep breath and launched off.

your body hurtled into hers a lot faster than she expected as to her promise she caught you, your legs wrapping around her hips but with the force in which you collided she stumbled backwards and fell with you landing on top of her.

"see! i caught you." the blonde groaned as you collapsed into her laughing, face pressed into her neck as her arms moved to hug you tightly. "i think the ground caught us actually." you teased, pulling yourself up slightly as you looked down at her.

it would seem words weren't needed as your eyes stayed locked and you started to lean down as alessia pushed herself up, your lips connecting as her hand moved to gently grip the back of your neck, deepening the kiss further.

"hey you two get off the ground and get out of there, thats for children!"

#alessia russo x reader #engwnt #woso community #alessia russo #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso

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spideystevie · 2 years

Text

i knew

summary: 4 times you knew steve loved you + 1 time you knew you loved him

word count: 3.3k

a/n: title from the lizzy song where i got the idea from. i truly didn’t plan on this being as long as it is but i got carried away. takes place leading up to volume one. there’s a small amount of angst at the end but it’s mostly just lovesick idiots.

masterlist!

1. when he gets you a card

The day is slow at the bookstore but you don’t mind. It had been a week from hell as far as you were concerned and you felt like the universe owed you at least a small semblance of peace in the form of a quiet, late morning shift. When noon rolls around, the bell above the door rings.

“Welcome in,” you call out without looking towards the door. Your customer service voice sounds nothing like you and you subconsciously wrinkle your nose at the sound of it. You’ve made yourself busy behind the counter, still not looking up even when there’s no response, and hope whoever it is doesn’t need any immediate help.

Your back is turned for a moment and someone clears their throat behind you. You let out a small huff through your nose. “Can I help you?”

The words die in your throat when you turn around and lock eyes with Steve who’s all sly smiles and shining eyes. Your own smile slides across your face at the sight of him. He nods at your question. “Yeah, I was wondering if you knew where I could drop this off to make sure my girlfriend gets it?”

He holds up a small white envelope, your name etched across the back of it in blue ink. Your smile grows as you lean against the counter and hold out your hand. “What’s this for?”

Steve sets it into your open palm, watching carefully as you set it down on the counter. Your fingertips trace over the writing on the back and you feel an eager anticipation to rip into it and read what’s inside.

“Just because. I know you’ve been having a bit of a rough week so I thought I'd surprise you at work but then I got the idea on the way over to get a little something to surprise you with,” he says and the sound of your giggle floats through the air.

“A bit, is putting it lightly, but consider me surprised,” you joke, though it’s mostly true. He smiles softly.

“I thought maybe a card would help cheer you up or something. There’s a dinner date invitation for tonight included with it,” he says, reaching out across the counter to brush the back of his knuckles against your cheek. A warm trail follows in their wake.

“Stevie..” your voice is soft, caught between awe and disbelief. He’s rambling, over-explaining in hopes that you like it.

“I was worried for a second because when I got to the car, I realized I didn’t have a pen to write in it so I had to run back inside and ask for one and this little old lady gave me one from, like, the bottom of her purse and-” he pauses when he notices you swipe your finger underneath your eye with a sniffle. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling and letting out a wet laugh. The built up tension from the week mixed with the sudden swoop of emotion from Steve’s loving gesture brings tears to your eyes and you wipe at your wet cheeks. “Yeah I’m okay. This is just really sweet, I love it. I love you.”

His concerned frown morphs into a giddy smile and his eyes light up. You step around the checkout counter of the bookstore you work at to wrap your arms around his middle. His arms instinctively wrap themselves around you, holding you against him. He presses a kiss to your head. “I love you, too.”

And you feel it melting off of him and onto you as you hug him. A deep radiating warmth that makes your skin tingle and your heart jump against your ribcage. You feel it again later when you get home, finally opening the sealed envelope and reading the note he put inside before you get ready for dinner.

A whole mini love letter specifically designed for you, and signed by Steve in a messy scrawl of his handwriting.

2. when he walks you to your door

There’s a magic that comes to Steve Harrington loving you, you’re convinced. It’s the sole explanation you can come up with for the way everything seems to click into place, anything bad slipping into the shadows as you sit across from him at Enzo’s. Or when he makes you laugh just that much harder, the sweetness of the message in the card still stuck in a loop in your brain, as he drives you home.

He insists on walking you to your door when he drops you off after dinner that night, ignoring your protests about your front door being only a few feet away and that nothing was going to get you. He holds your hand under the yellow porch light and somehow he still looks heavenly underneath it.

You feel sixteen again standing on your porch waiting for a kiss goodnight after a first date. A warm feeling buzzes in your chest as you stare at him, his eyes regarding you like you just sewed the stars into the sky above you.

“Thank you,” you say, soft tone of voice blending in with the hum of electricity and crickets in the yard. There’s a gentle smile on his face but a question lurking behind his eyes.

“For what?” it's a small murmur, thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands extended in between the both of you. You glance down at them, lifting your shoulder in a brief shrug.

“For…everything, I dunno,” you look back up at him, eyes almost doe like in their softness. “Specifically the card and dinner. And just for being you.”

Steve squeezes your hands three times, a silent I love you, a gentle reminder. His smile widens and he takes a step forward, closing the already limited space between you. Two moths flutter under the porch light just above his head and he takes a second to swat them away.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you,” his cadence is like a melody to your ears, the warmth in your chest swelling until it spills over into the rest of your body. You take a small step forward this time, joined hands falling to make room for your chest to brush his.

One of his hands comes up to brush against your cheek, palm pressing flat against it and tilting your head to press his lips to yours. Your heart flutters like the moths above, body caving into his like a moth drawn to a flame. That teenage feeling hits again and you can’t help the smile you let slip into the kiss.

You pull back a hair, nose bumping his and the taste of his smile still on your tongue. “Something tells me you might have a crush on me, Harrington.”

You can feel the breath from his laugh against your face, giggling as his nose brushes yours and he shakes his head. He mutters a soft shut up, swallowing your giggles as he kisses you again and again, until you’re breathless and a little dizzy. You step back with a smile that’s a little shy.

When you say goodnight, he squeezes your hands again and leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek instead. You watch him walk back to his car, waving from the door until he’s turning the ignition. And when the door shuts, you’re pressing your back against it, listening to the hum of the engine as he drives off, a giddy smile taking up permanent residence on your face.

3. when he ties your shoe for you

It’s snowing when the two of you come out of the movie theater and there’s a harsh nip in the wind that rushes by. You’re shoving your free hand and the one connected to Steve’s into the pockets of your coat. He’s talking with his one hand, voice animated as he shares his opinions about the movie you had just watched.

You nod along, laughing a little under your breath. It’s not a long walk to where his car is parked but it feels like an eternity for how cold it is. Snowflakes land in your eyelashes and you blink them away, eyes landing on one that rests on the slope of Steve’s nose. He subconsciously wrinkles his nose, the movement melting it into his skin.

As you walk, the laces of your right shoe unravel from their bow. The ends hitting against the sliver of exposed ankle from your jeans alert you and you look down. He’s mid-sentence and you feel a little bad when you interrupt him. “Oh! Hold that thought, my shoe’s untied.”

You pause, Steve stopping in sync with you in the middle of the deserted sidewalk. He lets go of your hand but as you start to bend down, he stops you. He’s already stepping in front of you and dropping to the ground when he says, “Here, let me.”

You watch with an enamored smile as his fingers work the laces into a double knot. The snow on the ground makes his hair look a darker brown and you wonder if his fingers are aching from the cold. The snow falling from the sky is starting to turn into sleet, wet when it lands against your cheek and in his hair.

“There,” he taps the inside of your shoe. Steve looks up, a small grin on his face. You feel it again as he’s looking at you. That all encompassing warmth, a tingling serenity that comes from the certainty that he loves you. So much so that he’d drop down to tie your shoe for you. “All done.”

The tip of his nose is pink from the frost bitten air outside and you can’t feel your cheeks all that much any more, but you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. You grin, offering your hand to help pull him up from the low squat he’s in.

“My Prince Charming,” you tease, shoulder nudging his side as you relace your fingers together. He shakes his head, pressing a searing kiss to your rather cold cheek.

When you reach his car, he doesn’t open your door right away. Instead, he cradles your face in his hands. His hands are somehow warm despite the weather but maybe your cheeks are just cold. You don’t get much time to think about it as he brings his face down to yours, catching your lips in a searing kiss that warms the both of you up just fine.

You look a little dazed when he pulls back, blinking slowly with stars in your eyes. The kiss had taken you a little by surprise and your voice comes out quiet and a little shy when you ask, “What was that for?”

“Just love you,” he kisses the tip of your chill-bitten nose and reaches around you to open your door. You can’t bite back the giddy love sick smile that spreads while you sit in the car and watch him cross in front to get to the driver’s side.

4. when he learns your favorite song

The weather starts to ease later in the week with the days growing slightly warmer and the lingering patches of snow lining the roads melting into the ground. Even still, you layer one of your heavier jackets over top a sweatshirt of Steve’s before heading out to see him.

When you pull into the parking lot of Family Video, it’s nearly deserted save for the all too familiar red BMW. The interior is even more deserted when you step inside, the bell over the door barely heard from the music being played from the old boombox on the counter.

You briefly notice Robin restocking towards the back but your attention is pulled entirely to your boyfriend, swaying a little to the mixtape playing and singing along just barely. He doesn’t see you come in, and he definitely didn’t hear you either.

Whitney Houston’s, How Will I Know, plays through the speakers and as you step closer, Steve finally turns around and nearly jumps at the sight of you. His cheeks start to burn and you grin at the soft red that stretches from cheek to cheek. He turns the volume down enough to hear you when you speak as you lean against the counter.

“Since when do you listen to Whitney Houston?” you’re half teasing, half genuinely curious. Your smile twists into something a little bit confused and Steve thinks the way your eyebrows furrow a little as you tilt your head has to be the cutest thing he’s seen all day. He shrugs, leaning across until your forearms are touching.

“Since you mentioned this being your favorite song,” he says it in a way that’s nonchalant but the way you react is anything but. Your whole body warms making it almost entirely too hot for your layers. You flip one of your hands palm up, watching as Steve’s fingers dance across the skin before sliding easily into place between yours.

Until now, you hadn’t thought Steve had heard you when you turned his radio on driving home from the movie theater. You had tuned through the channels, landing on the one that was playing How Will I Know and increasing the volume while softly remarking, “Oh! I love this song.”

“I hadn’t thought you heard me,” your voice is soft again, an enamored look in your eyes as you make eye contact with Steve. There’s something like thick honey, something more intensely tender and affectionate than normal in his gaze and you can feel yourself sinking deep into it.

“I always hear you,” you can feel that same warmth again, sitting deep in your chest and making your face feverish to the touch. Your emotions are on cloud nine and in a blink you’re pushing forward on your toes over the counter, to kiss your boyfriend. One of your palms lays flat on his cheek, holding him to you.

“Oh gross, guys, really?” Robin says, though her voice holds no real disgust. You break apart from Steve with a laugh, feet falling flat back onto the ground. Your smile is love sick and it matches the look in Steve’s eyes as he rolls them at his best friend.

You squeeze his hand three times, quick, almost fleeting and let yourself get carried away by the feeling of his all-consuming love for you when he squeezes back.

5. when you can’t fall asleep at night

When you had walked in on Steve singing along to your favorite song a month earlier, you never thought the sweetness of the memory would’ve held the weight it does now. Now, you have How Will I Know on a looping tape sitting in the glovebox of his car as a precautionary.

A twinge of guilt is quick to bite when you let yourself feel an ounce of relief that you haven’t needed to use it because every moment you’re not using yours, Max is using hers. Beneath it all is a deep feeling of unease, one that hasn’t left since you were in the Creel House.

Steve’s hand finds yours beneath the sheets, squeezing three times saying both I love you and I’m here for you all at once. It makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst and you smile weakly at him but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Your body feels tired, limbs heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your never-ending worry. His bed is as cozy as ever and his sheets smell like him, the scent of his shampoo joining the mix from the damp hair on both of your heads. It’s grounding and for a minute you think you might actually be able to get some sleep tonight.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve says, deep hints of concern swirling in his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking,” you say, voice a little muffled from your cheek being squished against the pillow. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you follow the movement with your eyes.

“About..?” he muses, slowly trying to work it out of you. You know what he’s doing, almost hate that he knows you as well as he does.

“How I never would’ve imagined my favorite song leading us to this moment,” you say and Steve gives you a minute in case you have more to say. “I’m so scared, Steve. And I know we’ve done this whole monster fighting before but it feels…different this time.”

It’s hard to really read his expression in the dim light of his bedside lamp, the lightbulb is dying and you had jumped earlier when it flickered. His thumb rubs soothing circles across the back of your hand.

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” he asks after a minute and you nod.

“I know that,” it’s a barely there whisper. You don’t say anything else.

“Besides, we’ve got Whitney Houston on speed dial if anything happens,” he means it as a joke but there’s no denying the seriousness lingering in the background. Regardless, it gets a smile out of you albeit small.

“Wish we could have one more normal moment with it,” you confess and Steve’s lips quirk up a little.

“What I wouldn’t give to hear Henderson beg me to turn it off just so he doesn’t have to hear us sing along anymore,” the memory causes you to giggle, making the worries plaguing your mind slip away momentarily into the shadows. He can’t help the grin that rises at the sound.

“He was so mad at us,” you agree, the pit in your chest being replaced with the fire of fond memories. Your giggles fade into a silence.

“We’ll have more normal moments with it,” Steve says. He moves to share your pillow, your noses touching and his breath warm against your face. He tilts his head up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead and murmurs against your skin, “I promise.”

He kisses you once, reassuring and soft and it feels like home. After a promise from you that it was okay, he lets go of your hand and turns over to click the bedside lamp off. The darkness takes your eyes a second to get used to but you can still feel Steve pressed close to you. Your legs are a mess of limbs, bodies interwoven so you’re not sure where you start and he ends.

You’re so familiar with the feeling you get when you’re reminded how much Steve loves you and as you listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing, you feel it tenfold with how much you love him. He’s falling asleep in front of you and suddenly you feel overwhelmed he even exists.

Steve who always steps first into the battle. Steve who worries so much about everyone else, he barely has time to worry about himself. Steve who doesn’t think twice before protecting the people he loves, even if it leaves him with a busted lip and a black eye. Steve who lets you sleep in his bed whenever the nightmares resurface and you can’t sleep alone.

Through the moonlight filtering in through his curtains, you can make out the fluttering of his eyelids. You chew on your bottom lip, rolling over the constant stream of thoughts in your head. After a minute, you give in.

“Steve?” your voice sounds so small.

“Hm?”

It’s muffled and barely audible but your hesitancy bleeds into relief when you hear him.

“I love you. I love you so much,” your chest tightens in the best way when a sleepy grin slides onto his face, his eyes still closed.

“”M’love you, too,” his words are slurred, thick with sleep.

This time, you smooth the, now dry, hair back from his forehead and press a soft kiss to the space revealed. You settle back against the pillow, smiling when he finds your hand in his sleep driven state and squeezes. Your Steve, who even in sleep, makes sure you know how much he loves you.

#am actually loving this one #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #📝: a writes!

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sideblogofthcentury · 2 years

Text

Steve had blacked out. All of his senses had dwindled to nothing but blind rage. He was lost in a sea of darkness, and all he could do was breathe. And with each breath he took, he began to return to himself, began filling in the missing puzzle pieces of what had just happened.

Steve breathed in and smelled the crisp cold air, shortly before snow or a cold rain, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and tasted the quickly souring aftertaste of the strawberry milkshake he’d shared with Robin, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and heard the high pitched ringing in his ears, the echoes of a spat “freak” reverberating in his head, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and felt the stinging of his knuckles, the weakness after a heavy exertion traveling up his arm, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and saw the beautiful angry red trickle down Jason Carver’s face, soaking the front of his white shirt, and Steve breathed out.

Ah. Steve was caught up now.

Jason’s eyes flashed with what Steve first mistook as anger. Steve breathed in and braced himself for another big drawn-out fight that would end with him unconscious.

And Steve breathed out and only then recognized that flash in Jason’s eyes as fear.

Steve smiled, a big toothy grin, and let himself chuckle at the broken little sound Jason made as he backed away.

“Don’t you ever. fucking let me see your face again, Jason. I will break it in two.”

And just like that, Steve saw Jason walk away.

Steve turned around to see Eddie, Robin, and Dustin standing in a semicircle, not a single closed mouth among them.

It was a long moment before anyone said anything, but it was Dustin who piped up first, with nothing but a simple “dude.”

Steve let Eddie drive the Beemer, Robin excitedly rambling instant replays as Dustin wrapped Steve’s hand in the backseat.

Dustin was dropped off first, with a “See you in the morning, badass.”

Robin was dropped off second, with a “Remind me not to piss you off.”

And then Steve moved to the front seat and stared at his hand, clenching and unclenching it, feeling the pain shoot up his wrist, the pressure of the bandage feeling good, like it was holding him together.

Eddie drove them to Steve’s empty house, neither boy breaking the silence that was so loud, the trilling guitar and shouted lyrics couldn’t even drown it out.

Eddie put the car in park in Steve’s driveway, staring ahead for a long moment before pivoting in his seat to look at Steve’s hand.

“Steve?”

“yeah?”

“You good?”

Steve breathed in.

Steve breathed out.

And Steve told the truth.

“No. Honestly, no. I can’t fucking stand it anymore, Eddie, I don’t know how you do it.”

Eddie knew what he was referring to. “You uh, get used to it?”

“No. I refuse.”

“Well damn Steve you can’t go punching the entire town. What will you do when the next person is an 80 year old woman? You gonna hit an old lady, Steve?”

“If she deserves it.”

Eddie shook his head and barked out a laugh that was definitely not a laugh. “So you’re really looking forward to that prison time, huh?”

“If I deserve it.”

Eddie threw his hands up into the air like the exasperated mother of an impossible child. “Steve!! you’re not getting it. It’s never going to stop. People are going to talk and say things and think whatever the fuck they want to think! And you can’t ever change their minds because they’re right. I don’t belong. I’m the freak.”

It lingered in the air again and for a moment Steve thought he was going to black out again.

Steve breathed in.

Steve breathed out.

“No.”

Eddie gaped at him. “Steve-

“No. Goddamn fucking no, Eddie. There is nothing wrong with you. No. Not a thing. You care about people, and you’re kind, and you’re smart and funny and they’re… they’re-“ Steve sputtered, unable to come up with a word deserving of association with them, finally settling for a disgusted face and a sigh.

“People don’t like you because you don’t check their boxes. You don’t, and you don’t care to, and they don’t like that. It makes them think. Every time they see you they’re forced to think; to wonder why they work so hard to fit in when you seem so defiantly happy refusing. People don’t understand, and it scares them. People don’t like what they can’t understand. And you’re so boldly you, you’re-“

Steve breathed in.

Steve breathed out.

“You’re terrifying.”

Part Two

#I’ll probably make a part two if literally even one person wants it #but it is late and i am sleepy so the quality will diminish if I continue now #steve is speaking from personal experience #because eddie made king steve think #and eddie scared king steve #I am trying to get back into writing but have no motivation so i really hope you like it #steve’s anger issues #I just really love Steve going full chihuahua on jason carver #like this lil guy is scrappy as hell #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve eddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things

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public-trans-it · 2 months

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i was a trans man until after a lot of build up of doubting myself, i finally realized that we are putting ourselves further into boxes by not accepting that we are the biological sex that we are and we can do WHATEVER we want at the same time.

clothes and makeup and certain interests do not equal gender.

and not liking being a woman is an unfortunately natural symptom of puberty and/or experiencing society’s deeply ingrained misogyny. and everyone deserves support for those problems.

but we can all fight together against gender social constructs in a healthy way without prescribing people hormones and invasive cosmetic surgery to make them more like the sex they “should” be according to… social constructs…. and help them be comfortable in who they are

Alright. Its been like 9 fucking months that I have been staring down this ask. What better time than to give TERFs some nuance than right in the middle of a fucking hate campaign going on where people (well... singular person probably) are calling me a TERF. This wont backfire.

This post arrived in my inbox shortly after I made another post about gender, and just how fucking weird it can be, and how I genuinely believed every single person on this planet has a fascinating relationship with gender, and so much nuance and personal identity in theirs. Even cis people. Even TERFs. In the tags, I even begrudgingly encouraged TERFs to talk about their gender on that post if they wanted. I genuinely think that TERFs do have really cool relationships with gender. As I mentioned in those tags, the quickest way to explode a group of TERFs is to get them to start talking about their own relationships with gender, and see how vastly different it is, and watching them stab each other in the back over it. So I told them to ramble away about how they view gender, as long as they stayed the fuck away from the rest of the blog WHICH THIS ANON CLEARLY FUCKING IGNORED.

But... this anon does bring up another topic I want to talk about.

Detransition.

I am a huge supporter of detransitioning. This is... surprisingly... not a very common stance in the trans community, and it breaks my fucking heart. Like, I get it. I understand why. A LOT of detransitioners, like the person in this ask, end up weaponizing their feelings of gender against other trans people.

My support of transition comes from the intersection of two very central beliefs of mine:

Everyone should explore their gender without feeling a need to commit! This is a pretty common belief in the trans community! Damn near universal in fact! We even have a fun little term we use for people who decide to play around with gender, only to end up a bit closer to where they started and being perfectly happy with that: Cis+. Someone who is cis, but at least put in the work to understand the trans experience, and actually CHOOSE to remain Cis instead of just defaulting to it with societal pressure. Many trans people are much more comfortable around 'Cis+' people, because they know these are people who have taken the time and put in the work of being an ally. Self examination isn't easy, especially not publicly, and doing so is genuinely one of the strongest ways a Cis person could ever show their support.

It is never too late to transition. This is also a pretty common belief in the trans community! It is... sadly not quite as universal though. But it is something very important that needs to be said. You could be 80 years old, sitting in a retirement home, and go "You know what? I think I'd rather wear a dress and be treated like a lady. I don't want to be buried as a man." And I think every single trans person should have that freedom!

I was discussing this with @thydungeongal the other day, far more paraphrased than this post, and she said something incredible that has been knocking around in my head ever since.

"Gender is an ongoing process"

Those five words they said to me sum up my feelings far more than this entire post could. Gender IS an ongoing process. My gender has changed SO MUCH over the past three decades. From the straightjacket of assigned gender that I was once forced into; to the very stylish and still lovable finely tailored suit of femininity that grew a little too stuffy to wear constantly, even though I do still enjoy it and try it on from time to time; to the wonderful and freeing losely fitting clothing of being aegogender, finally feeling free to be myself and just act naturally and feel natural without having to keep up an appearance!

And I think, there is no length of time you can try out being trans, and trying out new genders, before eventually coming to the realization you were cis all along. Even if you started HRT. Even if you got SRS. Heck, I don't even think you should have to call yourself trans to do either of those things in the first place, why would I be upset that someone did them and then realized they weren't trans? No single moment in your life should EVER lock your gender in place into some unchanging, set in stone thing.

So I support detransitioners completely, with my entire heart. They deserve just as much support as every other 'Cis+' person out there.

So anon, while many people may hate you and lash out at you for detransitioning, I want you to know, that I am not one of them. It sounds like your detransition might have been forced by peer pressure, which is heart breaking to hear. No one should ever force their own gender expectations on another. I hope that wasn't the case. I hope you came to the decision yourself, after realizing whats right for you. I will never give you hate for your detransition.

I WILL ABSOLUTELY GIVE YOU HATE FOR BEING A FUCKING TERF THOUGH. YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE WITH GENDER DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO POLICE THE GENDER OF OTHERS, FUCK OFF. GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!

#I think I'm gonna start doing that for Read Mores #so you can find your place easier after click it #since my 'style' in these long posts is like... a fairly longish NON-readmore post. followed by the actual readmore. Let me know if it work #text essay #gender #detransition #I uh... also have some more... complex feelings of detransitioning #that may be a LIIIIIIITTLE more controversial.........#none of it goes against what i said here #its more personal stuff with my own gender and how detransition specifically is something that exists not as gender itself #but as the societal perceptions of a persons gender #but thats a more complex topic that I'll add on to this at another date #also I am absolutely taking this ask at face value for the sake of this post #but I am not so naive as to believe that the blatant TERF that sent it was being genuine #this is ABSOLUTELY the kind of thing they send people to drive a wedge in the community #I'm not even going to fucking dignify that part of it with any mention in the body of this post #edit: ........... okay the readmore accidentally moved somehow #I fixed it now though

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thethreeeyed-raven · 10 months

Note

Hello, I don’t know if you wrote for male readers and if you don’t please ignore this request, but I would like to request an Eloise x Prince reader, he is trying to court her ever since he saw her at a ball but she is herself so it is difficult for him to court her because of her distaste for men.

Have a good day

She will not marry me

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : if this isn’t what you wanted then i’m sorry, let me know if you want a part two :) | bridgerton masterlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

↠ part two | ↠ part three

Queen Charlotte had failed to find a match for her nephew, the Prince Frederick of Prussia, so she had decided to invite another one of her nephews into the country, you.

Since you had stepped foot into her palace, she had been forcing you to attend balls, with mama's throwing their daughters at you in hopes of a marriage proposal.

But you had your eye on one woman in particular.

Eloise Bridgerton had captured your eye at one of your Aunt's balls just a few months ago, her eccentric behavior from across the room drawing you in.

You had come to learn that the slightly smaller woman she was always with was Penelope Featherington, her mother was constantly bothering you with one of her other daughters.

And you had come to learn that the man she was always chatting with was her brother Benedict Bridgerton.

You quite enjoyed the company of her brother, conversing of art and architecture. But you had yet to have a chat with the beauty herself.

"Benedict!" You approached him with a smile on your face, ready to envelope him in a small hug.

"Y/n! How are you? Has the Queen introduced you to more of the eligible ladies of the Ton?" Benedict chuckled, you following after.

"Not yet, but the night has just begun."

As you both conversed, you had failed to notice the woman that was approaching you both.

"Brother! You must help me!"

"What is it now Eloise?" Benedict rolled his eyes at his sisters hysterics.

"Mother is trying to set me up with some old wrinkly lord! The man can't even carry an intellectual conversatio-" She exclaimed.

"Eloise."

Benedict's warning didn't stop Eloise from her angry rambling, you thought it was endearing.

"Eloise!"

"Benedict, I'm being serious-" Eloise exclaimed, before stuttering and turning her head towards you who stood waiting patiently.

She looked between you and Benedict. "Benedict, who is this?"

Benedict smiled apologetically at you, but you simply dismissed it with a wave of your hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last Miss Bridgerton. I am Prince Y/n, one of the Queen's many nephews."

"Ah, yes. Lovely to meet you, yes." Eloise shook your hand exasperatedly and dragged Benedict away from you.

"You have that love-sick look in your eye." Your Aunt Charlotte ripped you attention away from the tiny intricate plate which sat in front of you. "I like it."

You peered at her from over your cup, watching the smirk on her face turn into a grin.

"So, my dear Y/n, who is making you feel like this?"

You set your cup down on the saucer, unimpressed. "Why does it always have to be someone?"

"So it is someone!" Charlotte clicked her fingers and ordered everyone out of the room. "Who?"

"I-" You wet your sudden dry lips before continuing. "I don't know if you would approve of her Auntie."

Charlotte reached over and grabbed your free hand which rested on the table. "I don't care who it is as long as they make you happy."

"She doesn't want to marry."

Charlotte's smile dropped.

"She certainly won't marry a Prince. Eloise Bridgerton will not marry me."

"Eloise...Eloise..." Charlotte said in thought. "She will marry you, with a little convincing.

She gave you a wink and exited the room, leaving you to shake your head in exasperation.

#bridgerton smut #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #eloise bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader

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semifilms · 1 year

Note

mentioning each other fondly in interviews with ushijima or tendou please? if you write for tendou could the reader be the celebrity please and thanks <3

☆MENTIONING EACH OTHER IN INTERVIEWS | ushijima wakatoshi

a/n - i’ve never written for ushijima so bare with me🫣 also the reader is gonna be mentioned to be an actor just a heads up

cw - manga spoilers

prompt list - @novelbear

the interviewer had just finished asking ushijima how he felt about being a member of the national team for the olympics and he answered honestly. he was honored and it was a dream come true. it was that simple. the woman then began to pivot to more personal questions. “so fans really want to know how your love life is going? ever since the news dropped about you and actor, y/n. what can you tell us about your relationship? are the two of you dating?” the brown haired male furrows his brows together at the question.

“y/n?” he repeated your name with a softness in his tone.”they’re great, really.” he begins as he looks at the reporter, crossing his arms. “they’re really kind, talented, and i love everything they do.” he was starting to ramble, which was unusual for him. he usually liked to keep his answers brief and minimal. but if the topic was you? he could get really talkative. “they’re the he most talented person i know. i admire them a lot. no we’re not dating though, just…friends.” not too much though, they’re were still thinks he’d like to keep private so he cut the interview a bit short. did he even answer the question properly.

that part of the interview was clipped several times though and began trending in twitter. it didn’t take long before it got to you and you smiled at the video before sending your friend a text.

you: I’m glad to hear you love everything i do waka <3

wakatoshi: that interview wasn’t even 20 minutes ago. how did they get it posted so fast?

you giggled at the text briefly as you wrapped up your conversation as you were on a press tour for your new movie. meaning you had to get interviewed too.

when you got into the dark room with posters of your movie you introduced yourself to the interviewer and got mic’d up.

“it’s so nice to meet you, i’ve watched your interviews before.” you told the lady fondly, she told you how honored she was and that she was a huge fan to which you thanked her.

a few minutes passed before she began talking to the camera, summarizing the plot to your new movie and then introducing you. you did the same old “thanks for having me” speech and the interviewer began t ask questions.

“if it’s okay with you i’m going to start with a question not relating to the film because i feel like i might get dragged for not asking,” she began and you nodded for her to continue. “just a bit ago an interview of ushijima wakatoshi’s interviews was trending on twitter as he briefly talked about you, did you see that?” you smiled at the question which you were actually looking forward too.

“yeah i did see that, i actually texted him right after i saw it.” you replied, your smile never wavering. “so from your perspective, what can you tell us about your relationship?”

“it’s great, he’s great. i feel like we balance each other out so well and he’s really is the sweetest guy there is. i love him a lot, and the way he does everything. he’s constantly checking up on me when we’re away from each other and i really appreciate it.” you go on for another minute about your boyfriend. “he’s a really caring guy and i think everyone should have a wakatoshi in their life.” you finished your smile growing softer at the thought of your friend.

your eyes met with the interviewers and you saw how here eyes had softened and she her smile mirrored yours. “you two seem to be in love.” she noted as she moved quickly onto questions about the movie.

and for a moment you spaced out and thought about it.

we’re you in love?

nah, he was just your friend. right?

reblogs appreciated!

#i almost forget these are “friends to lovers prompts #and so i write them not like that then go back and change it #but honestly…..#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu wakatoshi #wakatoshi fluff #hq ushijima #ushijima fluff #ushijima drabble #ushijima fic #hq headcanons

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