#today on things i will never write | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lighteyed · 10 months

Text

can it be easy this once? / steve harrington

summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)

unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy

It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.

The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.

Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.

He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.

“I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.

“What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.

“No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.

��That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.

You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”

“You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.

“You do this with all your best friends?”

“Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.

“Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.

“I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

“’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.

“Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”

“Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.

“Does it look like I am?”

“Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”

“I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”

And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.

He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.

“Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“

“It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“

“It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“

“I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.

He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.

“What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.

“What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

“You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.

He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”

“Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.

He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”

“I know that, now continue.”

“We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

“Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.

Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”

“Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”

“Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.

“Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”

“I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?

“A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.

“Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”

“Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”

“When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”

“You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”

“I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”

“You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.

“You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once. “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“

“Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”

“Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.

You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.

It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.

You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“

“Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.

It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.

When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.

#IM JUST GONNA POST THIS NOW BECAUSE I WANTED TO WRITE SMUT BUT I KEEP DELETING IT AND IF I DONT JUST POST AS IS IM GONNA END UP NEVER POSTIN #i feel like the ending is rushed but otherwise i did enjoy writing this immensely!#love you guys<3333 #i will write smut one day but not today i guess! i’m literally at work rn too soo #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things

2K notes · View notes

fortheloveofexy · 5 months

Text

it's a pet peeve of mine when ppl frame Andrew as hating Aaron and being needlessly cruel to him... bc while yes, their relationship is fractured and strained, Andrew genuinely cares about his brother and wants the best for him, he just doesn't know how to show that in a normal way.

like he might not know how to express it in a healthy manner but Andrew LOVES Aaron, like he truly just wants Aaron to be healthy and safe. It's like, his whole Thing. Aaron is one of the most important people in his life. Andrew wants him around. He'd do anything to protect him.

I guarantee Andrew wants to be emotionally close to Aaron too, he just doesn't have the tools to do that and the thought of letting someone in terrifies him. He also has no concept of what a healthy sibling relationship looks like, so he has no frame of reference to work from.

#i love bickering twinyards as much as the next guy but sometimes ppl write andrew has if he thinks aaron is a waste of space #and that just isn't true #andrew values his brother #he wouldn't insist on keeping aaron close if he didn't #when ppl do this is just so obvious to me that they're using andrew as a mouthpiece for their own dislike of aaron #and like ok yeah you're entitled to not like a character i guess #but it's just so wildly out of character to me for andrew to treat aaron like shit for no reason beyond Being Cruel #like yeah andrew can be mean when he's feeling defensive or trying to make a point #and yeah he can treat people like shit if he's got a reason to justify it like Keeping People Safe #but he's not needlessly cruel to the people closest to him without cause #like neil says #everything andrew does #he does For A Reason #even neil isn't needlessly mean to aaron tbh #like he doesn't like aaron much at certain points but if he picks a fight with aaron it's never without cause #and he's genuinely happy for aaron when things work out with katelyn in the end #and he wants aaron to have a relationship with andrew as well! like it's important to neil that the twins have a healthy bond!!#anyway im getting off my soapbox now this is just something i was thinking about today a Lot #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court

510 notes · View notes

heywriters · 9 months

Text

when writing an impoverished (usa) area in your story, sometimes it's like "Oh there is one grocery store and a McDonalds but we get by" and sometimes it's like "there isn't even a store anymore, only an independently owned drive thru with a tinny speaker system across the street from a blood bank" which, in fiction, is actually called a dystopia

#writing #I saw some things today #That I never thought about before #og

609 notes · View notes

cerise-on-top · 1 month

Note

what if the 141 boys had a ridiculously tall husband. like. a little bit taller than konig, probably. and he's really scary to people, actually!!!! but not his s/o , nuh uh, he's disgustingly sweet to his beloved.. sorry i'm rambling, i think (jokes and idiocy aside i adore your headcanons <3)

Hey there! Thank you, that's very kind of you! Also thank you for sending in a request for a male reader, you're one of the first ones and I was very excited to write about a male reader for once :D

TF141 With A Very Tall Husband

Price: He didn’t really think he’d ever be dating someone much, much taller than him. Sure, he doesn’t particularly mind, but he’s not short either, with him standing at 1,88m himself. It makes him feel small at times, especially if you’re pretty muscular too. He doesn’t get insecure about it in the slightest, oh no, but it’s weird to be so much shorter than your loved ones. However, he’s pretty used to scary people by now. Ghost isn’t exactly a delight to have around at first when you don’t know him either, so he knows how to deal with scary people. Might ask you to tone it down a little bit when you’re scaring other people too much, he doesn’t particularly wanna attract attention like that. But you being a sweetheart towards him? It melts his heart. He knows what you’re like towards people that aren’t him, so it makes him smile that you’re willing to do just about anything for him just to spend some time with him. You wanna trim his beard? There’s a good chance you’ve got some experience with that anyway, so he really doesn’t mind it as much. Hell, he probably trusts you more than his own barber at times. Besides, it’s a nice little bonding activity. If you have a beard then he’ll offer to trim it for you as well. Price isn’t really opposed to being the little spoon, or just being held in general. Quite the opposite, you being this tall sometimes puts him in a cuddly mood where he just plops down into your arms. Gently scratch his scalp and there’s a good chance he’ll even fall asleep on you. He’s so used to being everyone’s protector, it feels nice to be protected for once. But he won’t always settle for being held either, it’s his job to make you feel safe and sound as well, and thus he will take on the role of cuddler as well. Will fight you for that role, actually. Price is a real sweetheart towards his loved ones as well, so I think the two of you would fit well together. His mere presence demands respect in the right people, which can sometimes scare others. So, from time to time, you might both scare other people together. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally.

Gaz: He makes so many jokes about you being this tall and feigns being hurt about being much shorter than you are. You’re his behemoth, his leviathan and his ziz. Loves calling you the names of monsters that are said to be pretty big, it’s endearing to him. Besides, you’re scary enough that some people call you a monster anyway, if just for your height. If anyone ever were to call you that in front of Gaz, then they’ll end up with a black eye. No one gets to call you a monster but him. While he won’t always approve of you scaring everyone, Gaz does have a few friends that he wants you to get along with, he won’t particularly do anything about it either if that’s just what you’re like. Might try to make you seem a bit less scary by being a bit more affectionate with you in public. Holding your hand, giving you a peck on the cheek, giving you a hug. Those kinds of things. He actually loves you being this tall since that means you can pick him up and spin him around. He’s not been picked up ever since he was a little boy, so he definitely wouldn’t mind you showing off to him just how strong you are. Is also always looking for an excuse to hold your hand. Oh, seems like he forgot just how big your hand actually is and how much it engulfs his. Remind him for a moment and hold his hand, will you? Gaz is a sweetheart towards his loved ones anyway, if you look past the fact he will sass anyone to show his affection, so he loves that you’re so sweet towards him. Though, sometimes he wishes you were about the same height so you could actually share each other’s wardrobe. But hey, at least he gets to wear your extremely oversized shirts and hoodies, one of his favorite things to do. Another thing he also adores is just sitting in your lap when you’re home together and will also place your hands so that you’re holding him in your arms. If you’ve got really warm hands then he’ll place them atop his thighs to keep himself warm. Gaz isn’t the warmest person out there, but that just means you get to warm him up yourself. Is actually a lot cuddlier because you’re this tall and will become your personal blanket.

Ghost: He feels kind of perplexed about you being so much taller than him. Ghost is 1,95m, he towers over pretty much anyone, so how dare you be so much taller than him. Pretends to hate you being this tall, actually loves it. Sometimes he dreams of sparring with you under the moonlight to assert his dominance, even though there’s really no need to since you’re such a sweetheart towards him. He probably just needs to ask and would get anything from you. He really doesn’t mind you scaring pretty much everyone off, he has the same effect on people he doesn’t know. That just means there’s less people to worry about in his life for the time being. You’ll be spending a lot of time alone with each other that way, which he really likes. Though, maybe don’t scare his teammates too much, he genuinely likes them and wants them to be well too. Though, it’s kind of hard to properly scare them anyway. Ghost is usually a pretty quiet man when there’s no need for chit chat, but he doesn’t mind hearing your voice. In fact, he might get worried if you suddenly stop talking and will ask you what’s wrong. If you’ve got nothing to talk about then he’ll ask some questions so he can continue hearing your voice. He also blushes from time to time when you suddenly give him some sugary sweet compliments. He’s a grown, scary military man, he really shouldn’t be, but it’s just so endearing, especially when you, even bigger and scarier, call him your little honey bunny. It actually motivates him to do house chores. Not that he won’t do them anyway, but you calling him embarrassingly domestic names makes him just a tad bit soft, which leads to him trying to be a good husband. You may cuddle him since he trusts you, but he will also want to hold you from time to time. Life is a constant give and take, so prepare to be cuddled. Won’t particularly ask for cuddles, though, since he’s kind of too embarrassed to admit he’s touch starved. To you it’s blatantly obvious, though, which is why you initiate those cuddling sessions. Ghost appreciates it and sometimes hides a smile in either the pillow or your neck. As long as you don’t see him being silly, all is good.

Soap: He used to hate you being this tall. Soap may “only” be of average height, but he’s the tallest in his family, which he was actually pretty proud of. He towered over his father, even. And then he joined the military, where quite a few people were taller than him. And then you had the audacity to introduce yourself to him. You, the tallest man he’s ever met. It hurt his ego. Ever since you got together, though, he slowly got over it. You’re just such a sweetheart, how could he hate you over something as trivial as this? However, nothing could ever stop him from trying to pick you up and spinning you around. Soap is a pretty strong lad too, he’ll make it work somehow. You will feel tiny and cared for too. There’s a good chance he can’t reach your lips to kiss you. Yes, he could just ask you to bend down, but where’s the fun in that? Climbs you like a tree instead. He’s also always thinking of that one post where, instead of asking their boyfriend, the person should just punch him in the stomach. He won’t do it, but he remembers it every time without fail. He doesn’t mind you being scary either. Hell, Ghost is also a pretty scary guy to have around when you don’t know him and he’s one of Soap’s closest friends. Besides, he knows better anyway. You’re a total goof and the biggest sweetheart this world has ever seen. You being scary towards others just means that he’s got you all to himself all the time. Soap is a clingy guy, so you can expect him to cling to you like a koala from time to time. Actually, that was a lie, you should expect him to jump at you and hold onto you very often. Cuddles over safety. You’re likely also one of the only people on the planet willing to hear him out when he’s talking about his passions. And he could go on for hours every time. Explosives, weapons, whatever show you’re watching together, all is fair game. See, you’re one of the biggest sweethearts to him because you actually listen to him, despite him going into great detail about it all. You may not always be able to understand him when he’s talking chemistry again, but you hear him out anyway, and for that alone you’ve won his heart. He also sits on your lap while talking. You’re his little throne now that he takes immense pride in.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #I doubt anyone cares but I HC Soap to be 1.78m and Gaz to be 1.81m I just forgot to mention it #m!reader #I know I'm biased but I feel as though I'm actually more willing to write about male readers than fem readers #90% of all things I see in this fandom are with a fem reader there's barely anything for male readers #still thinking back fondly on that one time I got a request for a ftm reader #but that was an eternity ago and I feel as though I'd write that request better now and with more content #I tried to write a lot for this because I was really looking forward to it #besides it was a pretty cute request too. I've actually got a request that's similiar to this one too #it's with Laswell and a reader that's roughly as tall as König #and then I've got something for Nikolai and Price as a couple #I'm gonna write some HCs for that alone and then write some more with added reader as a bonus #I know I never mentioned it anywhere but I do try to be a reader centric blog. but I can write charxchar as well #I just haven't done so since middle school I think #wait no I've written charxchar not too long ago for madcom and tf2. good times #not sure if I'll continue writing today though. I started a new anime and I'm enjoying it a lot so I might watch that instead

178 notes · View notes

captain-hen · 1 month

Text

does he love you better than i can?

buddie | rated T | 10.8 k | outsider POV | character study

Summary: He can’t fault them for that, though. Evan has known Eddie for the past six years. Tommy has only been in the picture for about a month, give or take. Nothing has ever happened between us, Evan had insisted. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Eddie had told him unequivocally. There’s no reason he shouldn’t take them both at their word, Tommy thinks, decisively. or, buck and eddie insist that there's nothing going on between them. tommy wants to believe them. he really, really does.

[read here on ao3]

tagging a few people under the cut:

@tawaifeddiediaz @bieddiediaz @athenagranted @therapized-eddie @911-on-abc

@chimchiminie98 @bucksbisexualawakening @edmundodiazz @caroandcats @akapotatogirl

#neethu writes #buddie fic #911 #911 fic #today on things that are never gonna happen in canon but i wrote anyway just to get it out of my system:#10k of it! lmao

213 notes · View notes

starflungwaddledee · 4 months

Text

little guy big city! 7 inch plushie magolor had a fun time on our errand yesterday. he even finally got to do the classic "oh nooo the statue of a Creature is eating me"!

#had significantly less fun at the visa license office though. could not stop thinking about that one fic the whole time.#if you're out there still yea i mean your fic. and yes it was about a similar level of pain in the ass. some things never change.#today is a catch-up day and also getting some energy back. i'll be back more thoroughly tomorrow!#i always enjoy writing ID's for him!#7inch plushie magolor return to dreamland

136 notes · View notes

stevethehairington · 1 year

Text

He needs a break. A chance to breathe for a moment. This lifestyle sometimes feels like the corsets that Robin is always complaining about — too tight, too constricting, and superfluously unnecessary. Steve pities Robin, and the rest of the poor women, who have to deal with both. The circumstance and the corsets.

Steve knows better than to complain, though. He lives a lavish existence, one that many people would give anything to have. It isn’t fair of him to pity himself like this when there are so many people out there that are so much worse off than him. He should feel grateful. Lucky, even.

But it’s hard not to feel suffocated instead, sometimes.

The alcove is quiet, thank god, and void of any stray party guests. It’s hidden away, tucked between two rocks that overlook the seaside, and the crash of waves from down below has a mollifying effect on Steve’s agitated disposition.

He reaches for the cravat at his neck, loosening it with deft fingers. He’s in the act of tugging it away from his throat when the clear crunch of a footstep has him spinning around sharply.

And there, emerging from the shadows to block Steve’s only escape route, is a man.

The first thing Steve notices about the man is the curtain of dark curls that frame his face. They’re long enough to tumble freely over his shoulders, and they’re pulled back by a thick swath of fabric, deep red in color. The ends of his bangs peek out from beneath the bandana, as do a pair of thin braids, each tied off with two hollowed out pearls.

With his hair out of his face, Steve can see it all. Every single feature, open and on display — those soft cheekbones, that sloping nose, the gnarled scar that stretches across the left side of his jaw and pulls the corner of his mouth into a twisted, permanent smile.

Steve is sure that he’s never seen this man before, and yet there is something achingly familiar about him. A tugging within his gut; it feels like he should know him, but from what, he can’t quite place.

The man’s left ear is pierced through twice, two identical gold hoops looped through the skin. And just beneath his ear he has a small mark. A tattoo. Steve isn’t quite close enough to make out just what it’s of. He squints his eyes and nearly takes a step closer to take a proper look, but catches himself before he does.

It’s then that Steve realizes that he’s been staring, borderline ogling, for much longer than is appropriate, too. His cheeks warm as he averts his eyes to the ground. But rather than the cobblestone path below, his gaze falls to the man’s feet.

Flared brown boots cover those feet, rising up nearly to his knees. They’re old looking, worn and well-purposed, but still sturdy, even after countless strops though mud and water and sand and all sorts of other rough terrains. Beneath the boots, his stalwart calves and strong thighs are encased in rough-hewn black breeches, tight, yet functional.

Steve’s eyes stray further up, despite his best efforts.

The man wears a thick brown leather belt, layered with a silken red cloth and an even thinner black belt, this one scaled like a dragon, with a shiny gold buckle. It sits around his waist, atop an open black vest that accentuates his slim figure. His blouse beneath is a deep wine red, made from a gauzy looking material that clings to his skin. Steve imagines that if it were to get wet it would be absolutely sinful. The neck of it is rather plunging, too, exposing the man’s collarbones, and the corner of another tattoo on his chest.

And there, above his heart and to the right, in the very center, hangs a pendant — some sort of serpentine creature with wings, gaudy and golden and absolutely eye-catching.

Steve feels a little hot under the collar, taking it all in. He has to look away.

The man makes an amused humming sort of noise. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” He drawls, flicking both eyebrows up at once. A lazy grin unfurls across his full lips, and he practically drapes himself over the rock behind him.

The position puts his whole body even further on display, in an entirely new way this time, and looking away is futile now. Steve’s eyes are heedlessly drawn back to it, raking over every inch. It feels… dangerous, to be looking this much, this long, but he can’t help it.

The man lifts a hand to examine his black varnished nails, an air of boredom to the action. His fingers are adorned with chunky silver rings that glint in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Casually, he pulls a dagger from its hiding place amongst the belts and uses the sharp tip to pick at one of his nails.

Idly, he starts to whistle — a low, warbling tune that has an almost menacing edge to it.

It, too, strikes a chord of remembrance in Steve, and he wracks his brain trying to think of where he’s heard it. And then it hits him.

“You’re a pirate!” He gasps out. It sounds scandalized, when he says it, though, really, he isn’t scandalized at all. He doesn’t find himself very afraid, either, though he knows he should be. Instead, he’s just intrigued.

The man snickers. “Very good, sweetheart,” he commends, tucking the dagger away again. He brushes his knuckles against his shirt. “What gave it away?”

Steve frowns. “What are you doing here? Where’s your ship?”

“What am I doing here?” The man repeats. Laughs this breezy little thing. “I’m meant to be taking you prisoner, actually,” he tells Steve.

“Take me— prisoner?” Steve repeats, shock coloring his tone. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Oh, yes,” the man replies, pushing himself off of the rock. He starts to circle Steve. “I’m meant to be snatching you up— well, that’s the interpretation of it, anyways. All they said was that I needed to deal with you, and, really, that’s so vague.”

He starts to circle Steve, slinking around him slowly, purposefully. His voice carries as he does. “Pirates are supposed to be unscrupulous, though, aren’t they? What with all the threatening and the stealing and the killing and the like. I figured it only makes sense that I take you.”

Steve has a million questions — like who the hell is they? And what do they want with him? And why did they send a pirate to do their dirty work?

Instead, what comes out is, “I guess that would make sense.”

He folds his arms over his chest, just for something to do with them, and then a thought surfaces to the forefront of his brain.

A crease forms between his eyebrows, and his lower lip pushes out into a contemplative pout as he mulls it over. “But what if—” he starts. Pauses. Cuts himself off like he won’t dare finish the thought.

Only it’s too enticing, too tempting not to.

“What if you didn’t take me?”

The man comes to a stop right in front of Steve. He’s close, much closer than anyone would normally be comfortable with, but Steve doesn’t care. If anything, he has to refrain from curling his fingers into that necklace and using it to leverage him even closer.

Steve looks into the man’s dark eyes. Big, endless, easy to lose himself to. But he doesn’t. He meets them head on, unwavering with his gaze, as if he’s challenging him.

“Sweetheart,” the man starts, dripping with condescension. He raises a hand and flattens it against the rock behind Steve, boxing him in. Another wry chuckle tumbles past his lips. “I don’t think you get it,” he says. “I have an order. I need to follow it.”

Steve just his chin up, defiant. “I don’t think you get it,” he returns, poking the man in the chest, much to his astonishment.

“What if you didn’t take me,” Steve repeats slowly, putting emphasis on his meaning. “But what if I… went with you anyways?”

It takes a moment for the words to properly sink in, but when they do, a slow spreading surprise settles over the man’s face. “Oh,” he says, sounding pleased. His lips curl back into a grin that bares his teeth. “How rebellious of you,” he tuts.

“You say rebellious, I say free-thinking,” Steve replies, brushing him off.

The man’s smirk grows, but he doesn’t accept the proposition. Not yet. Instead, he watches Steve carefully, like he expects his bravado to fall away any second now and for Steve to renege.

But Steve holds his ground. He’s not taking it back. He’s not chickening out. In fact, he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He’s going to go with this man.

Finally, the man relents. “If that’s what you want,” he says.

“It is,” Steve replies, without hesitation.

The man gives a firm nod, and without another word, he turns on his heel and starts to briskly walk away.

Steve scrambles to follow him, out through the opening of the rocks and across the open courtyard that leads towards the port. He glances behind him every so often to make sure that he hasn’t been spotted or followed by any of the partygoers. By any of his family.

But each time he looks, there’s no one.

He doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or thrilled by that.

The further he gets from the party, though, the easier it gets to breathe. Like the noose around his neck loosens with each step. That almost makes him want to laugh, considering his choice here would earn him a real one, permanently.

Ships line the port, when they finally make it to the water’s edge. Great big ones, with hulking hulls and dozens of ballooning sails. There are at least four, anchored in the bay, but none of them stick out to Steve as a pirate ship. Not that Steve’s ever actually seen a pirate ship before. He’s only heard tales. Still, he expected that they’d be distinct.

The man approaches one of the ships, and he doesn’t hesitate before tromping up the shoddy wooden gangway and stepping foot onto the polished deck. His hands slide onto his hips and he casts a wide glance around. He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, his whole body relaxing as he does. Like he’s finally home.

He turns then, back towards Steve and offers out his hand.

Steve looks down at it, then back up at the man.

“I’m Steve,” he says, taking it. The man’s palm is rough against Steve’s, but it’s warm too. It feels nice.

The man laughs. “I know,” he says. “And I’m—”

It’s then that Steve notices it. It’s subtle, in the sense that it’s just the one detail. But that detail itself is anything but. Just past the man’s head, right in the center of the biggest sail, a red devil. Pointed horns protruding from its skull, wicked yellow eyes, razor sharp teeth.

It is unmistakable.

“You’re Eddie Munson,” Steve says, recognition finally hitting. And, jesus christ, he feels so stupid for not realizing sooner. The most notorious pirate in all of the seven seas — how could he have forgotten?

“That I am,” Eddie muses. Then he uses his grip on Steve’s hand to pull him the rest of the way onboard.

It tightens, and he doesn’t let go right away, like maybe he thinks Steve will try and make a run for it now that he knows who he is.

But Steve doesn’t. He stands his ground, holds Eddie’s gaze steady.

Something zings up Steve’s spine as Eddie’s big eyes bore back into his own, and he thinks briefly to himself that whatever he’s gotten himself into here, it’s going to be well worth it. He’s in for the adventure of a lifetime here.

Eddie drops his hand then, and a slow grin, just as devilish as his flag unfurls across his pretty lips. He flourishes one of his own hands out around him.

“Steve Harrington,” he practically purrs. “Welcome to Hellfire.”

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mack writes #macks ficlets #so i wrote this instead of working on any of the fics i actually should be working on rn lol #i listened to voulez vous by abba and my brain went pirates and well. here we are.#funny story also bc a good chunk of the first half of this actually came from something i was going to write for a totally different fandom #but never ended up writing so it just sat collecting dust until today!#10 bucks if you can guess the fandom (and no it is not ofmd or any other actual genuine pirate fandom lol)

783 notes · View notes

thefangirlfever · 1 month

Text

Miguel firefighter AU 🚒 🧑‍🚒

I've seen a few firefighter Miguel AU recently. And I had this idea. Just imagine dating this nice, cute and fluffy firefighter and discovering out of nowhere his picture for the firefighter's calendar ...

Like...you know, the very cliché shirtless, oiled skin, abs showing, happy trail included picture. You knew he had to be rugged with his work but still, you were not imagining all of this. You thought that as a grown woman you would not react like some horny mess in front of such picture but you can't stop your mind from wandering back to the picture. In fact it has been a but hard to look at him right in the eyes during your next date.

And the next time Miguel comes back to your place, he is the first one surprised to see the calender pinned on your fridge. You try to deflate his attention from the picture but fail miserably. He would lie saying he didnt likebseeing you all flustered. And if that wasn't bad enough he can see that the calendar is still stuck on his month, aka April, when you are mid August.

Of course you can't escape his cheeky grin and teasing for the next few days.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderverse #miguel x reader #firefighter Miguel #alternate universe #I am so sorry #it is very cringe #but I had to write that down #I have never seen this type of calender in real life but I suppose they have this type of things #I am on fire today

104 notes · View notes

chenziee · 7 months

Text

Shortly after Ace starts dating Marco in a modern AU, Luffy is chatting with Sabo about his latest E.R. trip when when he goes "Actually, Pinapple man was there and--"

Sabo is completely confused for a moment, until Luffy notices and clarifies, "You know that guy. I forget his name. That pinapple guy. Ace brought him to BBQ last week."

It takes Sabo a full minute to process that Luffy just called Ace's boyfriend, the department head of the university hospital, 'that pinapple guy' but when he does... he laughs. He laughs and laughs to the point of tears; he can't remember the last time he laughed quite this much.

He keeps bursting into snickers when he rushes to the store right after.

When Ace gets home that night, there is a pineapple sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, complete with googly eyes and fake glases glued on--as well as having its own plate and cuttlery set out before it, ready to get its own serving of dinner.

Ace doesn't have to look at the name tag that reads "Marco, that pineapple guy" that is hanging on lanyard that's tangled in its leaves before he, too, starts laughing until tears are streaming down his face.

A photo of Marco the Pineapple is set as Marco the Human's contact photo before dinner is even served.

Marco the Pinapple sits at the table for a few days but after a Straw Hats visit, it is deemed that he is taking up too much space and is relocated to the living room, his new home being the top of a cabinet.

By the time Marco the Human visits the ASL household about a month later, Marco the Pineapple is pretty much a family member.

Marco doesn't notice the random pineapple at first--the pineapple that is now wearing a tiny lab coat and a stethoscope--until Ace's cat, Kotatsu, jumps on that particular cabinet.

It's only when Sabo's warning hiss of, "Kotatsu, you know you can't touch Marco, don't you dare" draws his attention that he notices the cat wasn't about to start wrestling with his ankles.

Instead, he was sitting next to the decorated pineapple and staring straight at Sabo as if to tell him to try and stop him.

Marco isn't sure if he's ever been faced with a sight so bizzare... but he would be lying if he said he didn't find it hilarious.

Ace gifts him Marco the Pineapple Jr. to keep on his desk at work.

And Marco loves it.

#one piece #marcoace #marace #sabo #luffy #asl #asl brothered #modern au #today on things i'll never write #katie pretends to fic #portgas d ace #ace #marco #so many typos omfg #that's what i get for writing and posting thos while falling asleep #marco the phoenix

239 notes · View notes

whiskey-tango-matcha · 3 months

Text

for me, nothing hits quite like someone who's sick but like...still in a good mood? like either ignoring it or admitting they're not well but still pleasant to be around. like they sneeze and someone asks if they're ok and they just roll their eyes and say "yeah i just have a stupid fuckin cold" 🫠😳👁️👄👁️🤩

#if you've read anything I've written you already know my love for this #today it's inspired by my husband who started coming down w something yesterday #and he's just like. idk. rocking with it ig lmao #off topic but I'm almost ready to start writing again. i know it's been like over a month #but it's been a T O U G H month and then i started feeling emotionally better and i got sick hahahahah ofc #but things are better now. things are looking up haha #so i promise I'll be back at it soon #& ya I'm going to finish foh boh but if you have requests you can send them. i never know what will spark the writing bug #k I'm out byeee ✌️

71 notes · View notes

laundrybiscuits · 10 months

Text

Note: this is not a Stancy story.

“Say it,” he bites out. He’s pushing too hard, being too mean, and he doesn’t fucking care. “Say you love me.”

Nancy’s eyes slide off to the side and she—she laughs, like he’s making a joke, but he can see in the way she’s got her arms wrapped around herself that they both know it’s not a joke.

“Steve, come on,” she says.

There’s a hot, buzzing feeling in him like a hurricane.

The words peel out of him: “But…we’re soulmates.”

He’s gripping his forearm, holding it out in front of him even though he’s wearing long sleeves. It doesn’t matter. They both know whose name is written there in careful, neat cursive, like a puzzle piece slotting next to the blockier name scrawled on Nancy’s wrist.

Nancy reaches out to push his arm down and out of the way, out of her eyeline, but she laces her fingers with his like she’s trying to calm him down. Like an apology.

“Steve,” she says. “Let’s just—can we focus on the important stuff, here?”

This is important, why don’t you think that nothing could be more important than this. Steve doesn’t say it because he’s trying to be better. He can be better for her, for Nancy, his soulmate. So he swallows it down and nods, gripping her slender fingers tight in his.

———

It takes him a while, but he figures it out. It’s fate. It’s gotta be. It’s all a big part of their story, the one they’re gonna tell at their wedding, about the time they broke up and made bad decisions and were really unhappy. When you find your soulmate early, sometimes you have some growing up to do, he’ll say. Or maybe Robin will say it. He can’t imagine a wedding where Robin’s not his best man. Best lady?

It’s so stupid, but there was a moment, back in ‘85, when he thought maybe Robin could be his true soulmate. Like maybe there was some giant cosmic error, and the smart, funny, beautiful girl he’d been overlooking all summer was really the one he was meant to end up with after all.

When she tells him about Tammy Thompson, it’s almost a relief. The universe isn’t wrong after all. He actually feels really sorry for Robin, because without a name on her arm, how’s she supposed to know who to pick? And with the gay thing—it’s gotta be tough even just knowing who’s an option. He doesn’t think he could handle that kind of uncertainty.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to. All he’s got to do is hang on until his story and Nancy’s story bend together again, and become their story. He thinks it’s kind of romantic, even: like he’s been given this time to learn to be a better boyfriend.

So he’s in good spirits, especially when Eddie Munson gives him a heavy look that shoots through his veins like lightning and says as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen. If even Eddie can see it after spending about five minutes around them, probably not even knowing about the soulmate thing, it must be true.

———

Afterwards, he finds himself unexpectedly alone with Nancy in the hospital, waiting their turn to see Max and Eddie. It’s not exactly the stuff of fairytales; even though they’ve had a chance to go home and shower and get some sleep, they both have Upside Down gunk caked into their fingernails and purpling shadows under their eyes. The fluorescent lights overhead are way too bright. The flimsy plastic chairs are digging uncomfortably into his thighs.

But he’s not gonna get a better opening than this quiet moment, with Nancy slumped against his arm, tired and lovely.

“Hey, are you—” He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey, Nancy. Did you…think about, uh, what I said? About…you know. The future?”

She goes tense.

“Yes, Steve. I did.”

Maybe something in her tone should be warning him off, but he’s on this road now, careening down the fast lane with no exits in sight.

“And? What did you think?”

Nancy takes a deep breath, then lets it out after a second in a heavy sigh. “Steve, I…I’m with Jonathan now. You know that.”

“Yeah, but that’s—I mean, you know it’s not the same.”

“No.” She slips a thumb under the cuff of her sweatshirt and rubs it over her wrist. It looks like something she doesn’t even know she’s doing. “It’s not the same, no. It’s…Steve, it’s better. This way is better.”

He ducks down, tries to meet her eye. “Nance, I know I was kind of a shitty boyfriend, but—things are different now, right?”

Finally, she turns to him. Her back straightens, shoulders square, like she’s bracing herself.

“Yes, things are different,” she says slowly. She reaches out to take his hand in both of hers, soothing. “This hasn’t changed for me, though. It’s not about—I just can’t be with you, Steve. Not like that. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say but we’re soulmates again like a child, but it lives in his throat, in the thump of his heart. Maybe she just needs more time.

Maybe not, though.

(ETA: continuation here!)

#I wrote the first chunk of this a while ago and abandoned it in my scratchpad; had a chat about soulmates today and decided to write more #ofc this whole thing is also a metaphor for heteronormativity (WHEN IS IT NOT) so I may write the steddie follow-up at some point #I’ve never been the biggest fan of soulmate narratives but I find them fascinating from a meta perspective #I want to be clear that I don't think soulmate AUs are ~problematique; they obviously serve a function #the romance genre (and a lot of fic) hinges on the concept of endgame ships #there's a particular kind of comfort in that and I can see how it translates to in-universe predestination #I am personally just more interested in stories about choosing to love without guarantees #and I actually quite like the complexity of Steve and Nancy learning to navigate being friends as well as exes #not!soulmates AU

154 notes · View notes

sun-e-chips · 7 months

Text

You ever scrolling through tumbler and you see everyones beautiful au’s of these beloved jesters and think

Damn am I lucky to exist in this world at this time

#yalls beautiful creativity is overwhelming at times #nothing makes me happier to wake up in the morning and see what your brilliant minds have come up with today #first thing I see in the morning last thing I think about when I go to bed #never stop creating #artists never stop drawing #writers never stop writing #never stop doing what you love #even when the day comes where you move past the fandom we are all still rooting for you #and just as excited to see what you come up with next!#we see you #we only wish we could put to words how much your creations have become a deep rooted part of our lives #and you inspire us to put as much love into our work as you have in yours

134 notes · View notes

lunarharp · 1 year

Photo

into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.

the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the other.

for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.

the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.

but they were never whole to begin with, were they?

qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.

olly says nothing.

#witch hat tag #orufrey #sorry i wanted to make a new post for my fic since the first illustration is new.#*stands in the middle of a desolate field in the pouring rain* Please Read My Tale...Blease..Oh god please..*collapses to the ground*#someone asked if there's spoilers in it. Um...yes. Sorry...it's about everything #maybe i should describe it more? it's about qifrey becoming more and more disabled - as i feel is his canon trajectory #and both of them processing the choices that have been made. it was necessary for me to explore this in order to fully understand orufrey #and for them to have the cathartic conclusion-that's why this is important to me for my witch hat fanwork making life. this connects it all #and having dived into qifrey's mind and lived through oru's feelings i was able to get to a place that is possible for them.#the hit/kudos ratio is so pathetic idek what happened. ppl opening it realising its long and saving it for later or just bailing lmfao #idek any more i hate advertising my writing i hate trying to get more ppl to read my long fics it's so hard 🥲#i'm so much prouder of this than my art...i was able to sink deeply into the orufrey feelings i had always wanted to fully explore #so. it's there lol.........i reread the date/kiss segment today after trying to forget about it thinking maybe the fic is just BAD lol #and like.....nope! i like it very much and this is what i was trying to get across. and it's always there to be read by anyone who wants to #and i will always remember the bliss i felt while writing when i was just lost in their world and living as them. dear GOD i love them.#i'm grateful to myself that i put in the work and love to make this so that i can always come back to it. i wanna illustrate scenes properly #but i'm never satisfied with drawing things i've written because i just can't capture the vivid experience in my mind. maybe one day.

228 notes · View notes

cerise-on-top · 3 months

Note

hi<3 if you can, can you do valeria and laswell with a gothic s/o? like someone who likes darker/morbid things and things like that! love your blog by the way! it’s definitely my favorite blog to come look at after a long ass day <333

Hey there! Sorry, but I couldn't really find too much on what counts as dark and morbid in the goth scene, so I wrote more general HCs, I hope that's alright still ^^;

Valeria and Laswell with a Gothic!S/O

Valeria: She’d most definitely be intrigued, but not too much. In all honesty, she doesn’t know too much about the subculture, she’s never really met a goth who was clearly one. However, if it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to her. While she won’t really know too many bands, or any at all, she’d be more than happy to listen to a few if you want her to. Yes, she won’t always have the time, but when she isn’t too busy she could put on some songs by Joy Division or The Cure, she really doesn’t mind. She can vibe to that sort of music, even if it isn’t her favorite. You’re more than welcome to discuss the literature with her, though. She’s probably never read a single gothic literature book, but she can buy you some. Anything from poetry to a regular novel, it’s quite alright. While she won’t be the best person to go to when it comes to discussing those, she’ll support you either way. However, something she could definitely enjoy would be going clothes shopping with you. The fashion is kind of nice, she has to admit, so she’d be more than happy to buy you whatever garments you desire. Will go out of her way to find something you might like as well. I can’t see her being too much into the history of goth culture, though. It’s nice that you are a goth, if you want to tell her about it, then you can and she’ll listen to you, but she likely doesn’t have the time to research everything by herself. Tell her about its roots and she can definitely appreciate you going against what’s mainstream and how it all came to be. She’s a very defiant and rebellious woman herself, so she definitely gets it.

Laswell: She knows so many people, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has worked with goths before. And even if she hasn’t directly, she’s likely seen quite a few walking around the city. She usually grows worried for them in summer since their attire is black, which makes it quite hot. However, she’d be very intrigued by you and your subculture. It’s something very near and dear to you, so she would put in the effort to learn about your history. Will give some classic bands a listen as well. She just really wants to have something to talk about with you. Besides, she gets to learn more about you. While she may not be the biggest fan of your interest in death, considering she’s surrounded by it more often than not, she’d be more than happy to indulge anything else it has to offer. Laswell spent a good chunk of life left alone with her thoughts, so she definitely knows a thing or two about melancholy, the state of the world and introspection. Maybe not in the same way you do, but she can definitely keep up in a conversation. She’s likely also unintentionally read some of the more popular gothic novels out there and liked them, so she’d make for a good discussion partner as well. While she doesn’t particularly understand the need to make your face completely white, she doesn’t mind. In fact, she thinks it looks quite cool, even if it’s not for her. However, the fashion in and of itself looks really good to her. Again, she wouldn’t want to wear it, but something about Victorian and Edwardian fashion has a certain something to it that she can’t quite place. Like Valeria, she’ll definitely buy you things she thinks you might like. Anything from a suit or a corset to a book about poetry. Beware, though, she will read the books before you can.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #I am so incredibly tired so I'm sorry if this is bad #the day I'm writing this is Monday and I worked for nine hours today which wasn't very fun #I'll be working for nine hours tomorrow again and I'm not looking forward to that but I need that overtime #I've never met a goth before so I don't even know anyone I could ask about it #I know an emo or two but that's not the same #still I gave the music a listen and I gotta say it sounds pretty good #I can see Valeria indulging you in your morbid things though. if you collect animal bones she can definitely acquire some #whether it be through roadkill or ethically killed animals #Laswell wouldn't be too big of a fan of having bones at home but she won't stop you either #she'll just tell you to keep them somewhere she won't necessarily have to see them all the time #she's not squeamish but she prefers to not think about death too much outside of work. she gets enough of it on the daily #Laswell would be more media literate than Valeria though. she's definitely analyzed some poems for fun when she was younger #Valeria doesn't have the time to read too much into something. or read a book at all. a poem maybe but that's it she won't read into it

79 notes · View notes