That spring, Steve’s mom finally gets tired of getting cheated on and files for divorce. His dad is a dick about it and hires a bunch of lawyers to ensure that she basically leaves with nothing. Worse, he fights her for custody of Steve and taunts her with the fact she’ll never see him again - because why would any teenager want to give up everything, just to rough it out with their train-wreck of a mother? But jokes on him cause the judge basically leaves it up to Steve, and Steve would rather stomp on his own balls than get stuck with that asshole. Even if it means having to leave the big house and his car and starting over in a new place where nobody knows him.

Steve never met his mother’s side of the family in California. All he really knows is that the family disapproved of her marriage. There’s a story about his aunt coming to visit once on his birthday when he was like five, but she got in a fight with mom and she’s never been back. So Steve doesn’t even think about them when he tries to imagine what he and his mom are going to do on their own. He imagines her selling her car and the other gifts dad put in her name over the years to rent a decent apartment somewhere, maybe in Indianapolis or Chicago.

He’s really shocked one night when she announces that she’s been in touch with her family, and she she asks him about how he feels about moving to California to some sleepy little town called Moonwood. She tries to enthuse him about it by going on about how beautiful it is there, right at the edge of the national forest, but Steve’s more concerned with the fact that they’ll be living with people who hate them - and in the sticks too! Its two hours to the nearest mall! How’s he gonna find a job in this place? And what about school?

But Steve looks around at the hotel they’ve been staying in and the paper thin smile she fixes on her face to try and hide her broken heart from him and how fucked everything is, and he just wants her to be okay.

They move to California, and the one bright side is the relatives turn out to be not all that hateful. There’s awkward tension and a shit load of history there for sure, but from the minute they pull up to his grandparents house the door is thrown open and they’re welcomed with open arms. His grandpa seems a little stiff at first, but Steve gets the impression its because he doesn’t know what to do with himself as Steve’s mom and his grandma hug each other and cry. The weirdest part is when they start speaking in a language Steve’s never heard his mother use before.

Later his aunt tells him it’s lythan, but she just laughs when Steve asks if that means they’re from Lithuania. Apparently lythan is a very old language that started in romania and is only spoken today in two places. Here, and some village in romania that an ancestor immigrated from.

None of this is making sense to him but he’s just happy his mother seems happier and that he has help taking care of her, since she’s still pretty broken up about the divorce. She’s always been a passionate woman his mom. The kind of person who believes in soulmates and love at first sight. She’s always told him that when he meets the one for him he’ll know it in an instant and that he should hang on to that person with his whole heart. Which sounded great and all when he was a kid, but honestly just makes him sad now when he looks at how things turned out with her and his dad.

The first week after they get there, Steve cant sleep and catches his mother, his grandmother and his aunt talking in the kitchen late one night. He overhears her say that she knew it was a risk being with his dad, but that she’d have regretted it more if she didn’t follow her heart. Even if she wasn’t the one for Steve’s dad the way he was for her, she’d always be grateful because she has Steve. But she doesn’t want him to grow up feeling like he has to change who he is and like he always has to be the one giving to someone else just to be loved.

For the first time since the divorce Steve is almost mad at her - wants to shout it’s too late mom! - but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes. He’s just sad, for them both. But he hopes things will be okay here and that this can be a new start. It could be worse right? At least he gets a room to himself. Yeah it’s kinda weird that his aunt still lives at home and nobody seems to have a problem with that, or is talking about what his moms plans are like they expect that she’ll just be there forever now. But he figures they’re all just focused on making up for lost time right now.

And his grandma says that people in Moonwood stay close to home anway, and that most of them spend their whole lives there without leaving. It shocks him to learn that she’s never been further outside of town than to the edge of the national forest.

His second worry, about finding a job, gets resolved by his his grandfather - who runs a soda shop on the beach. There’s not much traffic durring the off season, but in summertime the redwoods draw a fair number of tourists. Steve’s kept very busy scooping up ice cream and making root beer floats while he flirts with the gap year girls who come through in groups, to backpack through the forest. He’s just turned eighteen and he’s never had much of a problem picking up girls so he has a few flings. He gets invited to parties on the beach and ends up doing a lot of hiking that summer in his downtime. But then fall rolls around and with fewer and fewer groups of tourists passing through Steve finds himself at loose ends.

School starts up again and he realizes that maybe it was a mistake not to put more of an effort into meeting local kids and making a few connections beforehand. Schiller High is over in the next district, and Moonwood is so far out the kids have to be bussed in. Steve’s a little nervous about starting a new school in his senior year but he tells himself it’s just one year. One year and then he has no idea what to do with himself after that, but at least he won’t be forced to attend school anymore. Still, he begs his mom to let him take their car to school the first day so that he doesn’t have to be the oldest kid on the bus. He’s pretty sure that’s a social constant even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Schiller seems pretty normal at first. It’s about the same size as his school back in Hawkins was. The school receptionist calls in some guy named Tim to show him around his first day and make sure he gets to all his classes. Tim’s alright, but Steve can see the neon nerd sign blinking above his head and plays it cool. He’s not an asshole or anything, he just doesn’t want to close any doors before getting the lay of the land. Steve just wants an easy year and he’s not gonna get that if he’s hanging out with a bully magnet - sorry Tim. Plus, Steve’s not exactly thrilled about the way Tim talks about ‘moonies’ - which is apparently what other people call people from Moonwood, instead of hicks or whatever. Steve doesn’t bother telling Tim that he’s technically a moonie now too.

His aspirations to plant himself firmly in the middle of the student social hierarchy and go unnoticed for the next ten months involve finding a group - or a pack as his grandfather weirdly put it when he assured Steve he’d find his in no time and start to feel more at home once school started. He asks Tim about the school’s athletic teams because being on a team with a bunch of other guys will basically do the work for him. There’s a swim team that Steve is definitely going to try out for. He’s not sure about basketball. He only got started back in Hawkins because his dad thought it was manlier than ‘playing’ in the pool. But he likes it okay, and Tim says the Schiller team has actually won a few regional titles.

Even though it’s his last year Steve figures it can’t hurt his college applications to be on a winning team for once. He probably won’t to start or anything but he thinks he has a good shot of seeing some playing time.

“I would stick with swimming if I were you. There’s no way you’re getting on the team.” Tim laughs. “The head coach is a moonie and he only ever picks guys from Moonwood.”

That doesn’t seem very legal, but that’s not Steve’s problem. He figures Tim is probably exaggerating anyway, just salty that the coach is giving a little extra focus to the guys from the less privileged side of the tracks.

Until Steve actually sees Billy and some of the other guys from the team.

It’s just before lunch when Steve and Tim have stopped by Steve’s locker. A blond kid in a red and white letterman jacket appears at the mouth of the hall, flanked by two other guys. It’s like something out of a movie the way the hallway clears for them and the other students gaze at them with awe filled expressions as if they’re watching a parade of olympians pass through.

“That’s Billy Hargrove. He’s captain of the basketball team.” Tim answers the unspoken question in Steve’s glance. “Don’t get on his bad side. He’s pretty much the top dog around here.”

Steve doesn’t need Tim to tell him Billy runs things around here. The guy is built like the terminator. Like someone who has ascended above mere mortals and wouldn’t be out of place among the gods. He’s built like a man, Steve finally settles on with an prickle of embarrassment hot in his chest. Steve’s a guy and he doesn’t go out of his way to look at other guys a lot, but he appreciates the things about them that are enviable.

Only envy is the furthest thing from Steve’s mind when he first sees Billy. It’s like time slows for Steve. His mouth gets dry, and he thinks to himself that Billy Hargrove is beautiful, and he wonders what that’s like. Steve knows he’s good looking. This isn’t some self depreciation bullshit, it’s just inexplicably different somehow the way he looks at Billy and thinks he finally understands what real beauty is. The way he instantly wants to get closer to him, reach out and touch. Billy has none of the unfinished awkwardness of a teenager. He’s a poster child for physical perfection that Steve is convinced walked off of a poster taped up on somebody’s wall, and has no business walking down the halls of an American high school. Seriously. How is this guy real?

He spares a quick glance for the other two guys with Billy - Dave & Chet - just long enough to confirm that he’s fucked. If these are the kinds of guys they’ve got on the team, Steve has no chance of seeing anything but a bench all year.

Billy and the other two stop at a locker not far from Steve’s on the other side of the hall, but not before Billy’s gaze does a casual sweep around the hall - very much a king surveying his kingdom. Steve fully expects that gaze to pass right over him just as unimpressed as it does everyone else, but to his surprise Billy’s gaze locks with his and sticks.

A little tingle dances up Steve’s spine and he sucks in a breath. He can’t tell what color Billy’s eyes are from this distance - at first he thinks they are something light, like a blue or grey, but then the corner of Billy’s mouth tilts up in a smirk and the light hits them a certain way and they look almost gold as he runs his tongue over some very white fangy teeth. Jesus the guy has some chompers on him.

Steve’s not afraid of a fight but it’s profoundly unsettling to have some dude literally licking his chops at him like he can’t wait to take a bite of the fresh meat. He’s pretty sure he just landed himself on Billy Hargrove’s shit list and he has no idea why. Fuck his life.

But he figures there’s nothing he can do about it but ignore it and hope that Billy decides he’s not worth the trouble. Steve turns to shut his locker, sending the message with his back that he doesn’t care about the dude giving him the crazy eyes and that Billy doesn’t intimidate him. His sweaty palms tell a different story, but that’s for Steve and only Steve to know.

As he leaves, he can feel Billy’s eyes burning into his back like lasers.

So much for going unnoticed for the year.

Now with Part 2

can’t stop thinking about them <3

so i seem to be on a spree of rewriting all my old fics that have never seen the light of day

first chapter of this is kinda short but it gets better i promise

summary:

merlin is beginning to give up any hope of arthur ever returning, when on one seemingly average day, he hears a familiar voice calling to him from the lake

My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

can i request konig angst and fluff fic plss like an argument etc i love your work so much 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Apology Accepted

1 order of Angst coming right up!

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Everything had gone wrong today, all you wanted to do was forget about what had happened and move past it, the very very very last thing you needed was König having a go at you. But when he finds you having a few drinks after you've missed his calls and messages, he isn't happy.

Warnings: Arguing (sorry, I'm not good at writing conflict), angst, slight mentions of alcohol addiction.

Word Count: 1856

Masterlist here!

***************

It seemed nothing had wanted to go right today.

Waking up was a disaster. You had accidentally set an alarm for 6 pm rather than 6 am. Curse 12-hour time. Waking up late with such little time to get ready and leave, you couldn't have your usual morning sit down with König. Or really talk to him all that much really. A simple ‘Goodbye’ and a kiss had been exchanged between you two before you had to leave to make it in time for the train. It was understandable, you were in a rush.

When walking to the train station, it had suddenly begun raining, causing you to have to run to the station with your work clothes to get soaked.

Even though you left the house late, you found yourself arriving to the station couple minutes earlier than you normally would have, so you took that extra time to fix yourself in the bathrooms. Unfortunately you had misread the time and took too long in the bathroom, missing the train to the city, ultimately making you an hour late to your job. Your boss was understanding, though it didn’t mean you were completely off the hook. You agreed to stay an extra hour in the office in compensation for your tardiness.

That was until you realised you were in such a rush in the morning that you had completely forgotten the paperwork you were required to bring back that day. Maybe it was for the best, it would’ve gotten soaked. You’re lucky you kept your work laptop in your desk the day before otherwise that also would have gotten soaked. So you’d stayed back even longer to make up for the lost paperwork, working yourself half to death out of guilt, promising to bring it in tomorrow and take an umbrella with you next time. 

The stress of the day was taking a toll on you by the time you had been taking the train back. You were so awfully tired, practically half asleep on the ride back, completely ready to call it a night the moment you get home. You were so out of it by the time, you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing in your pocket.

Unlocking the front door and walking in, you were greeted to the warm lights of the kitchen shining in your eyes. 

“I’m home!” you called out, kicking your shoes off before closing the door once more. Walking to the kitchen, you washed your hands before immediately pouring yourself a shot of Scotch straight from your liquor cabinet. Feeling yourself getting restless, you pinched your nose before letting all the liquid run down your throat at once, coughing at the burn in your throat. You poured another glass and filling the rest with coke. Letting out a sigh, you took a sip and leaned back against the counter, letting your muscles relax. Small sips turned to swigs, swigs turned to drinking the glass in a single go again, earning another cough from the fizziness and burn. This only resulted in you pouring yourself a third glass. You didn’t want to think about today. Today was filled with nothing but humiliation and disappointment. But the disappointment wouldn’t end there.

Hearing his heavy footsteps approaching, you look up at him with half lidded eyes, feeling a little hazy from your sleepiness. 

“Schatz! You’re home so late. You haven’t responded to my messages.”

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp from what looked like a quick attempt at drying it with a towel. His voice was filled with concern, worry. You quickly took your phone out only to see missed calls and unread texts from Köing.

19:20

Missed Call

Missed Call

‘Hey, you missed my calls. Where are you? You don’t normally stay out this late.’

‘Hello hello?’

‘You there?’

‘I hope you’re safe. Please call me back. Love you.’

20:12

‘I’m getting worried. Please reply.’

‘Hello’

‘Hello’

Missed Call

‘:(’

‘I hope everything is okay, hope you get home safe. Love you.’

The guilt had begun to set in again, frowning at the phone you’re holding in front of you. How could you have not noticed your phone buzzing so much? It’s not like it was on silent either. Maybe the buzzing was lost to the loud noises on the train.

“I’m sorry, I mustn’t have noticed.”

“So you come home and immediately start drinking?” Your stomach dropped. “Where were you? It’s almost 8:30, you finish at 5.”

König had always been protective over you, especially in a world like today. He hated it when you wouldn’t respond to his messages or calls, it would always make him extremely anxious. What you’re doing, who you’re with, what if you’re in trouble and he wasn’t there to help you. With a heavy shame flowing over you as you take a look at your glass, you placed it down after swallowing your last sip and slid it across the bench out of your reach.

“I got to work late and forgot some important files, so I stayed back.” 

“So you couldn’t have called me to tell me you won’t be home on time? That you’ll be hours late and I’ll be stuck worrying about where you are. You couldn’t just send me back a text saying when you got off the train? For heaven’s sake, you’re walking home. Walking home alone in the dark, anything could happen.”

You looked down with a frown. You’d left in the morning with barely any words said and hadn’t heard anything else from you until you’d arrived hours later than you normally would, he had every reason to be upset.

“Honestly, I expected better from you, (Y/N).”

But not to scold you like if you were an incompetent teen.

“Excuse me? I am fully capable of protecting myself. Quit trying to treat me like a child!” You snapped back, looking back up at him, only to see disappointment in his eyes. Disappointment. You’d already gotten soaking wet in the morning, missed your train, was late to work, and had to stay back for hours after. You didn’t need to take this. It wasn’t very often you’d see that look from him, and definitely not directed at you. It only made your stomach drop more.

“I’m not, but you know how worrying it is when you don’t communicate these things with me.” He groaned, “just... go upstairs and take a shower. You smell of alcohol and rainwater. I don’t want to start arguing with you about this.”

And so you did just that, chucking your keys down to the kitchen counter and making your way upstairs. It was probably for the best, the stress from today had finally caught up to you causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes as you made your way upstairs. König didn’t follow you, but you couldn’t care less at that point, you didn’t want to see him right now, you needed that space. Finally stripping yourself from your terribly uncomfortable clothing in front of the bathroom mirror, you finally felt a small sense of relief.

After brushing away the alcohol from your teeth and dressing yourself in something warm and comfortable, you had finally collapsed into your shared bed. After holding it in for so long, tears couldn’t help but fall from your eyes as a tsunami of emotions washed over you. Everything from today that could have gone wrong went wrong, you thought you could’ve at least relaxed at home, but you couldn’t. All you could do was think back over the day, the goddamn Scotch hadn’t done its thing. Not to mention how König looked down on you, those dark eyes he’d only ever really use on the battlefield. Looking down on you like one would with a child. The alcohol wasn’t helping either. You felt upset with yourself, you felt shame, you felt humiliation. You couldn’t help but sob into your pillow, holding it to your face as tightly as you can to muffle the sounds you were making. It wasn’t even 5 minutes before you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, ready to put this day behind you.

You slowly awaken to the sound of porcelain being placed on top of the wooden bedside table with a small clang of metal, as well as a particularly nice smell. Something warm and homey. You feel a dip in the mattress as König sits down next to you. Opening your eyes, you pry your face away from the pillow and you glance over to the table. Goulash. It’d smelt wonderful, but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

“Schatz,” he whispered out, “warmed up dinner for you.”

His voice was soothing, calming. Nothing like how it sounded before. You’d glanced up at him a few times before finally shaking your head ‘no’ in response. You weren’t hungry, quite the opposite of it. It felt as if you were to put anything in your mouth, food or not, you’d throw up. You knew he could tell you’d been crying, your cheeks still warm and streaky, your eyes still puffy and red. Each glance you took at him with your glassy eyes shattered his heart a bit more. König’s figure blurred in front of you, whether it been from your drunken state or the dried-up tears in your eyes from earlier, you weren’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered out sincerely as one of his rough, calloused hands made its way up to your tear-stained cheek. His hands were large against your face, caressing the plush skin of your cheeks. They may have been rough, but they were also gentle, soothing, calming. Your blinking became slower as you leaned into his warm palms.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I was disappointed in you. I was just so worried… today was rough for you, I should have been more… kind when choosing what to say.”

His words brought tears to your eyes once more. You didn’t want to talk about this. Not right now at least. You may not have wanted to, but you knew you needed to. Confrontation was always a heavy topic, didn’t matter who was in the wrong. His calm expression turned to concern once more as he noticed how your eyes welled up from his apology. You leaned into his hand more, as if you were trying to cover your flushed face with it, his palm catching the stream of your tears.

Apology accepted.

Sitting up finally, you wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could manage with König doing the same. It felt like home. You hadn’t realised how homesick you’ve felt until he’d pulled you into him so tightly. He felt like home. You felt yourself melting into his chest as you let out a long sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“I’m glad you’re home safe, I’m sorry I hadn’t said that earlier, Liebling.”

All you could respond with was a small whimper.

“I know, I know, ” he whispered back, placing a small kiss on top of your head, “I love you, Mous. I need to work on showing that more often.”

***************

I'm sorry, this isn't proof read 😭😭 please dont mind any gramatical errors or just bad story building in general

Goodnight <3

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲

you and zayne enjoy a picnic together.

word count: 1.6k contains: fluff, crack, my shitty writing strikes again zayne x reader so!! with the poll voting zayne as the winner, I have presented you with the fic y'all wanted!! this idea came to me in the nick of time when I saw his memory of him peeling an apple. and, due to receiving a few asks about xavier, his fic will be uploaded today or sometime this week!!

“do you like your apples peeled?” zayne’s hazel-green eyes are obscured by his raven fringe. he’s already peeling the apple in his hand, relaxed against the picnic mat you’d both laid out upon the grass, basket beside him. today’s little date involved you coercing zayne into finally taking a day off, much to his reluctance. you made sure he’d dressed appropriately—in comfortable, warm casual clothes with a woollen cardigan to keep himself from the cold. not that he’d really feel it, anyway—his evol seems to boost his resilience to the somewhat chilly air. still, you’re making sure all precautions are taken.

“I do,” you respond, straightening from the picnic basket you were just rummaging through, looking for the paper cups you swear you packed. the 2 litre bottle of fizzy lemonade you’d picked up at the convenience store on the way here sits beside you, still chilled, and the sun is beginning to rise quite high in the sky, its rays becoming rather toasty. you’d long shed yourself of your sweater, now acting as a pillow to lie back on to look up at the sky. it’s a lovely day today, hardly a cloud overhead, the breeze soft and with a slight bite. “I packed the paper cups, right?” “I wouldn’t know.” as per usual, zayne never misses a chance to poke playfully at you with those toneless words of his. “you’re the one who forced me out of my car today just as I was entering the hospital. you practically kidnapped me.”

“you can file a report once you get back to your apartment, then,” you shoot back promptly, biting back a grin. “can’t blame you if you did—you look positively distressed right now. you’re just itching to head back and work yourself to death, aren’t you?”

zayne finishes peeling the apple and pulls out the small wooden cutting board you’d also packed for this very reason. he picks up a small knife and slices the apple into six pieces. “maybe I should file for a restraining order. that way, I’ll finally be able to work in peace, hm?”

“you’ll be able to die from overwork in peace, too, and then this world would have lost its best cardiac surgeon.” you reach for a piece of apple and munch on it, peering teasingly up at the man before you through your lashes. “and I’d have lost the love of my life. don’t you think that’s such an unfair trade?”

you catch the flicker of a wince—well, more like a cringe—flash across zayne’s face before it’s stone again. your grin widens at his brief reaction. he side-eyes you, fully aware of just what you’re up to. “for once, you’ve actually said something that makes sense. keep on eating that apple, there, [name]. an apple a day will keep you away.”

you smack his arm at his words, hand meeting solid muscle through his clothes, and he barely flinches. it’s not like you’d ever slap him very hard, anyway. “you’re an idiot. and you’re a cardiac surgeon. what’s me eating an apple going to do to keep me away from your services?”

his eyes narrow at your wording. “the saying, for your information, is actually true—eating apples in fact decreases the chances of heart disease. it also lowers your risk of high blood pressure. I’ll give you a bouquet of apples next time.”

“you seem to be in no rush to get away from nor get back to your office.” you pointedly avoid the slices of apple on his lap and reach over for the tiramisu and spoon you’d sneaked into the basket while he wasn’t looking. zayne eyes it—not with hunger, but with poorly hidden distaste. his expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “oh, zayne—it’s not like I have these kinds of desserts everyday. rid your mind of work and relax a little, alright? I’m young, and I’m not going to collapse from a heart attack from one bite.”

“the bad habits you’re forming now will accumulate up and will eventually transpire in your old age—”

you answer by shoving the spoonful of tiramisu into his mouth, cutting him off. zayne’s eyes widen, and he coughs a little when he unintentionally inhales the cocoa powder dusted atop the dessert in surprise. you choke back your laughter. “it’s nice, huh? want some more?” zayne shoots you a look that has you torn between excitement and intimidation. he slowly lifts a hand to wrap around yours that holds the spoon in his mouth. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the dessert and takes the utensil from his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick up what’s left of the cream at the corner of his mouth. it may seem like a perfectly normal action, but it’s making your imagination run wild. the bastard knows what he’s doing, but he still arches a ‘clueless’ eyebrow, eyes glinting with amusement. “what’s got you so silent now?” “ahem!” you quickly retreat, stabbing the spoon back into the tiramisu, taking a bite yourself, uncaring whether he also licked the spoon or not. indirect kiss, I guess? you cringe at your own thoughts. ew, don’t be weird. “anyways, moving on. there’s another container of this in there for you, if you want it.”

“no, thank you, I have a diet to keep to.” 

you roll your eyes, pointing your spoon at him. “boy, you have a bigger sweet tooth than me. do you think I don’t see all those chocolates you sneak? I’m amazed you don’t have a head full of rotten teeth.”

“I just wish to keep my current body shape and weight.” zayne unclips the lid of a plastic container full of neatly sliced fruit, something he probably packed himself. he glances up at you without moving his head, through his long lashes. “a body shape you enjoy a little too much.”

you blush. “wh-whatever! there’s no harm in indulging yourself from time to time, you know?”

“like how you adore indulging yourself in me all the time?” “okay! I get it! I get your point.” your face is about to explode into flames. you go back to stabbing at your tiramisu, bested and smarting. you shift on the mat to sit with your legs at your side, leaning against the trunk of the tree beside you both, muttering to yourself, “it’s not as if you don’t like it either…”

“what was that?” he’d heard you loud and clear, but he enjoys watching you flush and squirm.

“nothing! nothing at all.” it’s like you’re a teenager again, innocent and oblivious and very prone to blushing. whenever zayne dresses and talks and looks at you like that, you feel like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. 

flustered silence from you and smug quietude from zayne is all that reigns for a few moments, the man watching the park’s distant bubbling fountain absently, popping a grape into his mouth occasionally. you two had picked a rather secluded space—far away from the sound of traffic and squealing children and frollicking dogs, underneath the shade of a tree, the area quiet and private. also, his sharp, handsome features are now rather well-known to the populace after that article on him being the top cardiac surgeon at asko hospital and in the world went viral. you found all the teenage girls going crazy over him in the comments rather amusing. now, you’re unfailing in teasing him about his fanclub whenever you get the chance. too bad zayne just doesn’t care. he hardly ever reacts to your jests. 

your embarrassment eventually fades and soon you’re looking for something else to annoy him with. however, zayne seems to have sensed your plotting as he turns his head towards you, chin propped in his hand as his elbow leans against the side of his knee. “whatever you’re up to this time, I wouldn’t bother.”

you sniff indignantly, playing innocent. “you’re paranoid. I just wanted some grapes.”

he obliges, handing the container to you. “did you find the paper cups?”

“no. I think I forgot them.” you make to rummage through the picnic basket again. “there’s a can of sparkling water in here, if you want it.” you hold it up, reading the label. “lime-flavoured. I thought I got berry.”

“it’s alright.” zayne’s quiet voice holds no inflection of annoyance—or anything, really. as usual. “is it still cold?” condensation rolls down the can’s side, but it has heated to room temperature. “no. a shame. would you like it?” “here.” he holds out his hand for it, and you promptly comply. but instead of cracking it open, the ice-blue glow of his evol envelops the can. soon, he’s handing it back to you. “there you go. you look thirsty.”

“uh, thanks.” surprised, you listen and stare at the hiss and bubble of the sparkling water reacting to you opening the can. “are you sure you don’t want any? there’s another can in there, if you’d like it.”

zayne smiles at you. the rare sight always strips you of your breath. “that’s alright. here, eat the rest of this apple.” he places the small chopping board with the slices of apple on it upon your lap. he leans back and places his cheek upon his fist, watching you fondly. “it’s good for you.”

you throw one more smart comment his way. “if anyone’s giving me a heart attack here, it’s you, doc.”

it’s funny how he’s changed his tone now. “that means you get to keep seeing me.”

“aren’t you the one adamantly against heart problems?”

“not when it involves you sticking around.”

you grin. “so you won’t file for a restraining order?”

zayne chuckles. “I’ll drop off a basket of apples in front of your apartment every week instead.”

“and keep a bowl in your office?”

“and keep a bowl in my office.”

wow. I didn't expect my headcanons drabble to blow up bro. tyasm for your support 😭🙏

masterlist

Read Your Diary

table of contents/pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: he needed to find a way to get inside of her, for ever and ever and ever.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, borderline stalking and an overall toxic dynamic with an oblivious Y/N, use of explicit language, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. I absolutely do not condone any form of emotional manipulation or toxic relationships. This is a work of fiction and most definitely not a reflection of this person's real actions or personality.

message from A☆: Hey !! So recently I've been reading a lot of dark fics so I wanted to try and write one of my own. This fic has the same structure as Chewing Cotton Wool, and this (Read Your Diary) is one of my fav Måneskin songs, and I put A LOT of effort into it. Btw, I didn't use the whole song ! I only used the lyrics that I felt resonated with the storyline I wanted. (I fully went in and edited the smut part I AM SORRYYY) I hope you enjoy...

P.S, try and spot the song references throughout the fic !!

Brought you some roses, you didn't take them So I shed a tear

He was just trying to be nice. That's what Y/N thought. She'd been working as Christian Horner's secretary for only a couple months now, and his star driver had quickly taken a liking to her. But who could blame him? She was young, a few years younger than him, and absolutely gorgeous. Max would send her a bouquet if her favorite flowers every single race weekend, and in the beginning she'd never take them. How did he know what her favorite flowers were? He had his ways...but she always refused them. Little did she know, Max was watching from down the hall, sometimes he'd shed a few tears over it. After what was probably the millionth time he'd left her flowers, she finally took them. She figured he was just trying to be nice, make her feel welcomed, that's what she kept telling herself. And in that moment it was like something snapped in Max's head: he had to have Y/N, and when he did he'd keep her forever and ever and ever.

Pouring some champagne over your panties So that we can cheers

They were at a party after the race, she was getting absolutely shit-faced drunk. Y/N was wearing a short, sparkly party dress, the light catching every fleck of glitter as she moved. She danced the night away, downing drink after drink. That's when she bumped into Max, his glass of champagne pouring all over the front of her dress.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry schatje (little treasure)...let me help you." Max grabbed a napkin, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in closer to wipe her off. He knew this was a bit risky, but Y/N wasn't refusing his touch.

"Maxie...hi!" She giggled drunkenly leaning into his touch. This was perfect. Max tried his best to wipe her off, but her dress was still sticky with the fizzy fluid.

"Y/N, darling, you should get changed...your dress is in no condition to stay on your body." He smoothed her hair over with one hand, looking into her eyes as she spoke.

"No, im fine Maxie!" She whined. She clearly wasn't, and Max wasn't going to skip out on the chance to be her knight in shining armour; even if in reality he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Counting the hours, counting the seconds 'Till I can feel your bones

"Oh, but Y/N, liefje (darling), you're too drunk to think straight." His tone had the slightest hint of mockery, but she was too drunk to tell.

"No, Max...I'm perfectly fine to be alone.'' She spoke between hiccups, trying not to stumble over herself as Max led her back to her room.

"No you're not, come on...let me take care of you." There was a certain darkness in his eyes as he spoke. As he led her into her hotel room he had an almost malicious smirk on his face. He didn't want to take advantage of her though, even if he was counting the hours until he could feel her bones beside him. All he wanted was a chance to get closer to her, to get inside her head.

Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you

This was Max's chance. As she peacefully slept he got up and began to go through her things. Her suitcase, her clothes, her purse, everything he could find. That's when he found it: Y/N's diary. He flipped through the pages, taking photos, drowning himself in her words. He knew it was wrong to read her diary, but this was perfect. It was all her emotions, written out in front of him. This was the way, he thought, the way to get to her. Infect her with his love, rot her mind with his sugary sweet lies. He needed her in the palm of his hand.

Forever and ever and ever.

I'm not a coward, I'm not a hero But I can be your toy I'll be the pill that you wanna swallow When you're looking for the joy

Reading her diary had been like dissecting her brain, he learned everything about her. What she liked, what he hated, the things that made her weak in the knees and swoon, and the things that turned her off. He knew just the way to have her at his will, have her wrapped around his finger. And that's exactly what was happening. After weeks of tedious yet discreet manipulation, he almost had her. Max was the one Y/N would go to first when she felt down, when she needed to get something off her chest, when she was excited about something. It was almost like he was her drug, little did she know it was all his fault. But she was too oblivious to realize it. Her friends tried to warn her, but it was no use. He was already getting to her, he'd already turned into her joy-pill.

Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you

This was wrong, so wrong. He knew it. But Max would go to the ends of the earth to even have a small taste of her. He sat quietly outside her apartment building, phone in hand. What a stupid, oblivious girl. She'd left the window wide open as she got changed, Max snapping pictures of her naked body without her knowledge. Once back in his own home, he pulled out his phone to flip through the pictures. Such a pretty, ignorant girl. He felt himself getting harder and harder as he looked at her body in each picture. Max could cry over her nudes, he needed her so badly. He grabbed a small bottle from him bedside drawer: a small travel-spray of Y/N's perfume. Max sprayed his pillow with it every night, craving her scent and body beside him. He decided to take a shower to get his mind off things, but now he practically tasted like her. There was no taking his mind off her now.

Forever and ever and ever

Oh, why don't you give a little love now, baby?

Alone, in the shower Using my left hand so it feels like you

Max had been alone in the shower for about an hour now, jerking his cock to the thought of her. The smell of her perfume still lingered, the mental image of her naked body driving him insane. He needed to have her, he couldn't wait much longer. But he almost had her, she was just within reach. He came with a loud groan, his release coating his own hand. He could only imagine how much better his cock would feel elsewhere; in her hand, her mouth, her pussy...but he had to wait just a little longer.

So please, I'm begging To feel something new

It had been like a predator circling its oblivious prey; she had no clue he already had her in the palm of his hand. She was under the impression that this was what she wanted, this was all out of her own volition. But that was far from the truth. Max was behind it all, meticulously puppeteering her feelings. But she'd never know, he'd make sure of it. As she entered his apartment, the feeling of his hand on her lower back was sending chills through her body, Max smilled maliciously to himself. But he had to make her think she was the one in control, that this was her choice. They walked to his couch and both sat down, their bodies mere millimeters away from each other. He had already brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses for them. They sipped on their drinks and just talked, but behind his blue eyes he was waiting for the perfect window to strike. About 4 and a half glasses in, she'd scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder subconsciously. Now was the moment, thought Max. His hand slipped away to her thigh, slowly rubbing up and down and driving Y/N mad.

"Max..." she whined his name, it was like music to his ears.

"What, liefje (darling), what's wrong?" He had to hide his smirk, the slightest hint of mockery and possibly pity in his tone.

"Fuck...I think I need you..." She was too drunk to think before she spoke, her thighs rubbing together slightly as she yearned for some sort of friction.

"Aww...you need help darling?" He lifted her chin, pulling her in closer. All she could do was nod, letting him pull her in for a kiss.

One thing led to another, and they ended up in Max's bed. She'd practically been begging him to feel something new the whole way there, it's ironic how she thought she was the one in control. Max put her down onto the bed and reached under her skirt to remove her panties. He ran a finger through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"You're desperate me, huh schatje (little treasure)?" He brings his fingers up his mouth, licking them clean. All she could do was whine out a reply, she was desperate. With than Max knelt before her, leaving a trail of kisses up her thighs as Y/N squirmed with anticipation. The feeling of his tongue over her pussy, he ate her out like a man starved. Every moan that rolled off her tongue only riled him up more, he licked every inch of her center and sucked her clit like it was his last meal. As she begged him to let her come, her words caught in her throat with a squeal as he plunged two fingers into her entrance. She wanted to cry, it was all too much. "Aww, you wanna come liefje (darling)?" He smiled up at her and spoke in an almost mocking tone as he worked his fingers in and out of her and rubbed greedy circles on her puffy, overstimulated clit.

"Please, Maxie, please, please let me come...fuck!" She gasped out, her hands tangled in his hair.

"Since you asked so nicely, darling, I'll let you...come all over my fingers..." He sucked her clit and pumped his fingers even faster, pushing her over the edge. He came with a loud, straggled moan, her slick leaking out over Max's fingers and palm. He licked his fingers clean once again, then pulling himself back on top of her.

"You wanna taste yourself schatje (little treasure)? Hm?" He grabbed by the neck, with a rough gentleness, while taunting her with his patronizing tone. He kissed her roughly, Y/N whined at the taste of herself on his tongue and his hand gripping her neck, she needed more. Max was her drug, and she was too far into her addiction.

"Max I fucking need you...please." She reached up and pulled his face back down for another heated hiss.

"Anything for you, liefje (darling)." He smiled down at her, their foreheads touching. This was the moment Max had been waiting for for months, dreaming, fantasizing. He wouldn't wait another minute to make her his. So, he stripped himself of his clothing and Y/N removed whatever was left of hers. He cautiously got on top of her, like she was the most delicate creature on the planet, and aligned the hit tip with her hole. But he wanted to draw this out, so he slowly dragged the tip of his dick along her slit, rubbing it on her clit and then back down. Max could've died a happy man right there, his body hovering over hers as she begged for his cock and trembled.

"Please Max, stop teasing, I need it so fucking badly..." She said in a whiny, needy tone. Seconds later Max was pushing his cock into her, stretching her out as she moaned. He didn't waste a minute, not even allowing her to adjust. It's like a switch kicked off in him, he was feral. He thrust in and out of her at a fast, rough, yet delicious speed. Within minutes of him fucking her she was already a babbling mess.

"Aww, Y/N darling, already too fucked out to speak?" He mocked, deriving a little too much joy from seeing her at his will.

"Maxieee- fuck- 's too good...fucking fuck!" She moaned out, but Max was far from done yet. She felt her walls fluttering around him as his dick twitched, a tell-tale sign they were both gonna come.

"Need to come, liefje? Aww, I'm gonna fill you up so fuck- fucking good. Gonna claim this fucking pussy..." He groaned, feeling his climax reaching.

"Please, Maxie- fuck- need to come so bad, 's too much, fuck- please" She moaned out breathlessly, but she was already gone. The knot in her stomach had already snapped, spilling her slick all over Max's cock. He soon followed suit, his dick twitching inside her and the painting her walls with his come. He took a look down at where their bodies met, smiling maliciously down at the sight of the mix of his and her release leaking out on his cock. He then collapsed on to her with a loud groan, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her face.

"You're mine now...you get that? Or are you still too cockdrunk to understand me?" He spoke in an almost patronizing tone, running a had over her hair; all she could do was nod in her fucked out state. After catching his breath, Max got up and ran over to the bathroom. He came back minutes later, picking Y/N up from the bed. She whined into his neck.

"Come on, darling...gotta get you cleaned up..." With that, he dropped her down into the tub, and he practically worshiped her body. He ran his soapy hands over her whole body, washing off the sweat with the utmost caution. He used a washcloth to wipe the come off her sensitive center, she whined softly at times. But Max was extremely gentle, and when he got her out of the bath and sat her on the counter wrapped in a towel, he took a quick rinse. He then took them both back to the bed, giving her one of his t-shirts to sleep in. She drifted off peacefully in his arms, not knowing what she'd gotten herself into. Now Max had her, he was inside her head. He was going to keep it that way, forever and ever and ever.

Hi!!! 💖 If 21 isn’t filled yet for tickletober, do you think you could do ler Asmodeus and lee Fizzarolli from Helluva Boss? The new episode has me craving for some tickle content for them they’re so cute!! Hope you’re well and take all the time you need. 💖

TickleTober Day 21 - New Discovery

Writing this one made me happy. I dunno what it was, but writing the scrunkles just boosted my happy brain chems. I know I’ve been squeaking these in at like 11:50 something at night, but I actually paced myself this week and loved getting this out! Hopefully you like reading this as much as I did writing it. Enjoy!

Lee: Fizzarolli

Ler: Asmodeus

Summary: After a shitty day, Fizz is more than ready for some love from his partner. Ozzie is happy to help, though he does it in his own silly way. After all, what's love without some laughter?

Warnings: swearing (obviously), implied murder (don't worry, they deserve it)! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Hell's worst kept secret…

Not wrong, but the title still pissed the pair off. Ever since the kidnapping incident, they had been a bit more open with their relationship. They obviously weren't announcing it; all of Hell didn't need to know that Ozzie and an Imp were together. But around the factory and his quarters, the fruits were showing more PDA and less shitty excuses when they were caught. 

The workers knew better than to say anything.

Still, the occasional whisper or snide comment outside of Asmodeus's safe zone got the jester's blood boiling. Especially when they were about his man.

"Did you hear about Asmodeus and that little imp? Man, what a way to fall. Never thought the embodiment of Lust would do that to himself." The second demon nodded, smirking. "Oh, Fizzer-something? Yeah, a big rooster and a clown. Sounds like the plot of a shitty porno." "Heh, they kinda are!"

Oho, Fizz wanted to rip their throats out and shove them so far up their-

Whooo-kay. Deep breaths, deep breaths. He promised Asmodeus that he wouldn't let small-minded loudmouths get to him, especially sinners. But they so deserved it, and he was just a few feet away…

They just had to keep talking, though. "And hey, he didn't even pick a working one! The thing's defective! Robotic limbs and shit. Dude really needs higher standards."

That was it. The jester turned, running at them with nothing but rage and hate in his eyes. The dumb fuckheads barely had time to begin a plea before Fizz went to town.

-

When his Fizzie got home, Ozzie immediately knew something was wrong. His partner’s colorful clothes were coated with black blood. The sin hurried over to him, surveying the imp for injuries before scooping him up into his arms. “Fizzie, babe, what happened?”

Asmodeus’s voice radiated concern, comfort and love for the jester. Fizzarolli couldn’t have gotten any luckier when him and the demon connected for the first time. Or the second. Or the many, many times after that. Eh, who needs labels?

“Some…assholes, spewing shit about you and me. I tried, but…they needed a lesson on how to shut up.” One of the robotic arms was damaged in his fit of rage. Apparently the loudmouthed sinners had a bit of fight in them. Fizz still disposed of the garbage; he just got a bit messy.

Ozzie sighed, nuzzling his feathery head against Fizz’s smooth skin. “Froggie, I love that you wanna defend me, but it’s not worth you getting hurt. I’d take all the shit-talk Hell has to offer if it meant you’d be okay.”

So mushy… The imp rolled his eyes, secretly melting inside at the sweet words. “Alright, alright, I get it. No more fighting over your honor. Tell Hallmark the message worked.”

Then he did Fizzarolli’s most favorite thing ever. He laughed, a deep snort kicking off the rumbling chuckles. Fizz laid his head on Ozzie’s chest, feeling the vibrations and listening to the short burst of amusement. The sin stood, sighing out a final huff before carrying his partner to their bed. It was the only one big enough for Asmodeus, let alone Fizz, to fit. 

Following their pattern, Ozzie removed his elaborate suit, slipping on his robe instead. He then helped the jester peel away the blood-stained outfit, quickly drawing a bath for him. They were at the point where it was just second nature; one of them has a bad day, they get a warm bath, cuddles and shitty RomComs until they fall asleep. That day was Fizz’s day to be pampered.

After some calming back rubs in a nice bath, all blood was clean and the imp was feeling a bit better. Ozzie got him a new arm, making sure to give him little forehead kisses as he worked. Finally, they were ready to lay down.

Surprising no one, Ozzie was the big spoon. He hugged Fizz close under the covers, rubbing his back soothingly. The Lust ring’s RomCom channel played distantly on the TV.  It was barely a minute before the jester was dozing off. The sin’s touch softened, absentmindedly wandering across Fizzarolli’s bare skin. 

His feathery fingers eventually made their way to the imp’s sides. Fizz was drawn from his sleepy stupor by an unexpected buzzing along his side. A feeling he hadn’t felt in quite some time. He squirmed a bit, feeling the fingers go back to his back. The moment he settled back down, however, they returned. 

A quick glance at Ozzie’s dreamy expression told him that the sin wasn’t doing it on purpose. The rooster just thought he was giving him soft affections. Sighing, Fizz squirmed again, adjusting himself so the tracing was closer to his lower back. That was apparently a big mistake.

The moment one of the feathery fingers brushed his back, he squeaked, flinching away from the touch. Asmodeus immediately went into Mother Hen mode, lightning his touch and looking for injuries. “Fizzarolli, why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself? Back injuries are serious!”

Ugh, why did he have to care so much? “I-I didn’t…” The lighter touch was somehow worse, sending a flurry of butterflies to attack his stomach. Fizz’s tail twitched, trying to wag; he made sure to force it still. Unfortunately for him, that also meant he took a small amount of focus off his verbal reactions. The smallest, teensiest little giggle slipped past his lips. Ozzie immediately stilled his fingers; as a sin, he easily heard the noise. Then something clicked.

“Froggie…are you ticklish?” Shit…Fizz tried to run, a burst of adrenaline pulling him from the sleepy peace. Ozzie was on him before he could move an inch. The little imp didn’t stand a chance.

“W-wait! Ozz, don’t you fucking dare!” His robotic arms wrapped around the sin’s body, trying to push him off. That was nearly impossible, as Asmodeus was over four times his size and much stronger than the prosthetics. Still, he could only try. 

The rooster smirked, his demeanor doing a complete 180. Ozzie went from concerned and soft to playful and smug in seconds; it was almost scary how fast he could switch like that. “Oooh, babe, I definitely fucking do~”

Before he could get another protest out, ten feathered fingers attacked his torso. Five running along his back, five snaking around to his stomach. In seconds, small giggles slipped past his lips, a blush tinting his scarred cheeks. “N-nohoho! Ohohozzie you dihihick!”

“I know it’s one of your favorite features, but let’s leave my dick out of this.” Stupid, cheesy words; it was unfair how blushy they made him. Fizz tried to wiggle away, but even with his insane flexibility, Ozzie’s strong arms kept him trapped.

He twisted and kicked, his limbs swinging and flailing as he tried to escape. He didn’t fully mind the tickling, but Fizz had an image to protect. The amazing, alluring, ass-kicking Fizzarolli couldn’t be seen getting reduced to a giggly puddle; even if nobody was watching but his boyfriend.

“Tickle tickle tickle, Fizzie~” He just had to tease… If there was one thing that killed Fizz, it was Ozzie’s silly teases. Normally, they were just flustering. Those teases, though; they drove him nuts. “Shuhut the fuhuhuck uhuhup!”

Ozzie loved the sight of his squirmy boyfriend. The genuine laughter, happy smile, vibrant blushes and adorable noises warmed his loving heart. He genuinely couldn’t be happier than when he was with his Fizzie Frog; especially when the imp was all giggly like that. “Awww, babe, I’m just tryna cheer you up! Are you not feelin’ just a teeny bit better?”

Okay, that wasn’t fair. He was definitely feeling better than when he arrived, but that wasn’t totally because of the tickling. Being around Asmodeus, as evil as he was, immediately boosted his mood. “Thihis- ihit’s nohot fahahair! Youhuhu suhuhuck!”

“Only for you, Fizz~” Just to be evil, Asmodeus fluttered his fingers on the jester’s hips. FIzz squealed, his arms swinging to try and grab Ozzie’s hands. Oh, that asshole! “SH-SHIHIHIT! AHASMODEHEHEUS! NAHAT THEHERE!” 

Ozzie chuckled, loving the high-pitched cackles from his partner. “But right there is my favorite! C’mon babe, you gotta admit that this is pretty cute.” Fizz groaned through his laughter, thrashing under the sin’s tickly assault. His robotic appendages were no help, merely bouncing off the sin’s feathered skin instead of actually deterring him. 

“NOHO IHIHI”M NAHAT! OHOZZIEHEHEEEE!” Fizz could feel his tail wagging, the tip making a gentle thump against the sheets. At least the rooster wasn’t teasing him about that. “Ooh, Fizzie, your tail’s wagging. Are you enjoying yourself?” Spoke too soon…

Seeing that he was working his partner up a bit too much, he moved away from the imp’s hips, deciding to focus on Fizz’s neck instead. “Alright, alright. I won’t kill you, Fizzie babe.”

“F-fuhuckin’ feehels like ihihit!” Fizz whined, his laughter dying down to squeaky giggles. He turned his head, burying his face in the pillowy mattress. The muffled giggles only made him cuter, in Ozzie’s opinion. He leaned his head down, peppering the jester’s face with light kisses. Fizz scrunched up his shoulders, both loving and hating how the ticklish kisses made him melt. “Bahahahaaaabe!”

Ozzie chuckled, basking in the way his boyfriend reacted to the silly affections. The faces in his hair were smiling wide, portraying his obvious adoration and love. So fucking cute…

It was almost comical, the way the large sin cuddled up to the smaller imp. The love they shared was like no other; based on good communication, mutual respect and pure affection, it was about as healthy as you could get. Sure, they weren’t officially public, but nobody else needed to know about them for it to be wonderful. Especially in the cutesy moments like those.

As much as Fizzarolli loved the attention, he was wearing out. Dealing with the dicks from that morning, combined with the goofy fun, had him pretty drained. “Ohozziehehe! Plehease, noho mohohore!” 

And just like that, it was over. Asmodeus respected boundaries more than any other creature in hell; the moment Fizz wanted him to stop, he would, no questions asked. He did, however, pull the imp against his chest, rubbing small circles into his back to help calm him down. The sin’s voice was soft once again, save for a teasing edge. “Easy, babe. You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Fizz took a few deep breaths, getting out the last few giggles as he snuggled against his man. “Uhum…no, you’re good. But *damn*, did you have to go for my hips?” Ozzie snorted, nuzzling his head against the imp’s. “You know I did. It’s adorable, how can I not?”

He held Fizz tight, flipping them over so the jester was laying on his chest. It was their favorite way to sleep; Fizz could feel the warmth of his boyfriend, and Ozzie could sleep peacefully, knowing his partner was safe while he was with him. Fizzie grumbled, but didn’t protest the movement. He was tired, and he couldn’t deny that the sin’s chest was rather comfortable.

The covers were pulled over the pair, concealing almost all of Fizz’s body. His concealing hat was removed, placed on its holder for the night. It was nice, affectionate and calm; just the way the pair liked it. They drifted off, the small yet happy smile never leaving the imp’s face.

desperately need a blurb about matty showing este one of the (many) songs he wrote about her, maybe it’s the first one he writes for her! But he’s all nervous and she’s in shock all like “it’s about me??” And bc of her love for literature she’s like delving into the lyrics and falling in love with him and his mind all over again!!!!! could be cute!

Who Else?

a/n: cj!! suuuuch a cute concept thank u for the request💌 it’s kinda implied in the fic that Then Because She Goes is the first song he writes about Este but because it’s so lofty and the lyrics are so buried and vague, i thought it might be more fun to focus on a different (underrated imo) one :))) i hope u like it !!!!!

this another instalment of este and matty as always, read the full fic here <3

—

The first test pressing of Being Funny finally sits in Este’s excited hands. She always looks forward to spinning Matty’s work and being able to hold it physically before anyone else. Luckily, it came in a sample sleeve of what the final product would look like—unlike most test pressings that come in boring and generic packaging—so Este is able to admire and study its charming design. Matty watches, thrilled to see her reaction. 

Her eyes scan over the sleeves with the lyrics printed over them, picking out her favourites and smiling when she reads them. Knowing how truly earnest Matty had decided to be with his lyrics on this project, she can’t help but blush at the overtly romantic phrases and the fact that they could have been written with her in mind. 

“So who’s this one about?” Este poses sarcastically, pointing at All I Need To Hear and giggling in the process. She watches Matty lightly roll his eyes and the corners of his mouth pin up into a grin. 

“George, actually,” He jokes. 

He’s only just lowered the needle onto the black vinyl, so a couple of seconds afterwards, the two of them hear the telltale piano chords of the opening track. Matty steps back to let it play, taking a seat in the chair that sat next to their sofa. Este follows suit and lightly settles onto his lap, lyric sleeve still in hand. 

“Shut up,” she replies, continuing to read away. “I actually can’t think about that song too hard or else I’ll, like, fully weep.”

Matty chuckles, pulling her legs to the left so they dangle off the side and so he can see her face. He sets his arm across her thighs to hold her tight and clasps his hands together around her waist. 

“I mean every word, you know.” He says quietly. 

Este feels her nose get fizzy with emotion as she reads more of the lyrics. 

'Cause I don't need music in my ears

I don't need the crowds and the cheers

Oh, just tell me you love me

'Cause that's all that I need to hear

She thought about how punctuated by music Matty’s life had been; how it was the only way he can make sense of the world. How deeply it made him feel and know himself. And how it brought him the most important connection he’s built—his audience and the mark he’s left on them. 

Then, her mind wandered to the way he somehow unabashedly declares that her love is set above all of that; through the song. It’s the ultimate exclamation of love and devotion.

He wrote that about you, Este thinks to herself. Her nose goes fizzy again. She blinks away the tears that rise. 

Her fingers find their way around the nape of Matty’s neck, and she caresses the skin there gently. “I’m serious, love. I’ll snot on you.” Este warns. 

They laugh together for a second, then hear the record switch over to Happiness. Matty studies the way her foot begins tapping to the beat and how her lips move ever so slightly, to mouth the words to herself. 

“God, this is the best song ever,” Este gushes as the needle scraping along the vinyl helps remind her of how much she loves it. He shrugs, raising his heel along to the song making her bounce up and down. She laughed at how nonchalant he was attempting to be. “Don’t be humble. It is.”

He looks at the floor and then up at her. “Another one written about you.” He says, kissing her shoulder.

She looks down at him, setting down the record sleeve. “Would you really go blind just to see me?”

Matty nods slightly. The brown in his eyes glows with admiration. “I’d go too far just to have you near, too,” he teases. 

There’s a shyness in his voice that Este can hear buried beneath the light sarcasm. It makes her heart flutter while Waughy’s saxophone blares through the speakers with charisma.

“Do you always think about me when writing love songs?”

It’s a question she ponders quite often. She’s not sure why she does; but she struggles to conceptualise being the subject of art she loves so dearly. Though Este can tell it’s second nature to him. 

“Course. Who else?” Matty answers, like it’s obvious, because it is. 

Este shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe the ones before me.” 

“Can’t even remember their names, now that you’ve come along.” He says casually. 

As they continue to listen, Este eventually gets up to flip it to the next side. But as she does, the conversation they share reminds her of one of the first times Matty admitted to writing about her, and how precious it was. 

Este has a clear memory of Matty being on tour in 2019 and sending her messages about Then Because She Goes, when it was a work in progress. She thinks it was easier for him to hint and imply the lyrics were about her—how their times together felt so indulgent even though the pain of parting ways came along with that—because he didn’t have to do it to her face. He had sent her voice memos of it while he was halfway across the world and Este witnessed the song grow from an idea to a fully fleshed moment of splendour on the record. It was such a special experience.

But, when she managed to learn that there was more (quite a few more, Matty would later reveal) on Notes that had an undertone of Este-ness, his admittance was much more timid. 

It was after the release of the album was pushed back a few times, a period of time she would frequently find Matty hunched over his laptop screen with stress. The final touches of mixing and mastering were occurring. Track by track, things were being perfected, and Este grew more and more eager to hear the project as a whole.

Finally, Matty asked her to join him for a front-to-back listen-through of the album. They sat down together and shared his pair of Airpods, the left for him and the right for her, and pressed play on his files.

Because of its sporadic final weeks of creation, there were some songs that sounded different to when Este had first heard them, and even a few she hadn’t heard at all. One that was new to her had been a last minute addition that George composed of a rogue idea sitting in Matty’s notes app. It ended up being a favourite of hers.

“You hadn’t shown me Bagsy Not In Net,” Este pointed out when the album was over and she had spilled enough praise.

“We made it so spontaneously. Towards the end. I guess it just never came up,” he explained, picking at the skin on his fingers. “Do you like it? I really like it.”

She furiously nodded. “That’s why I brought it up. It really stood out to me.”

Matty clicked randomly around on his laptop and refused to meet her eyes as he said, “I’m glad Bagsy stands out. I was nervous you wouldn’t like it.”

Este’s brows furrowed.

“Since when do you care about whether anyone likes your work besides you?” She said playfully.

“Are you kidding?! I always care about you liking my—”

Este giggled, putting her finger over his lips to muffle his sentence and end it abruptly. “Okay, okay. You do care. But I feel like you’re never nervous. Like, with every other song—”

“I was nervous because Bagsy Not In Net is about wanting to die with you.” 

Her mouth remained agape as Matty interrupted. It came out of his mouth with impulse and haste as if it had been sitting behind his teeth begging to be heard. 

All the while, his eyes stayed glued to his laptop screen. He was afraid of it being too bold of a concept, or that she wouldn’t feel the same way—given the fact that it had barely been three months since they’d gotten back together. It was easy as ever to write about her and send her little messages through a screen that hinted at him doing so; but having Este’s real and living gaze burn into his face while admitting something so raw was not the walk in the park he hoped it would be. His heart began racing, and he didn’t know when it would stop.

“It’s about me? Are you sure?” Este spluttered. 

Matty eventually peeled his eyes away and met hers. 

“Who else?”

Later, after a long night, the two of them whispered quiet words to one another in bed before turning over and shutting their eyes. Este had another idea, though, and turned her phone back on. She slipped on her headphones, and opened the audio file sitting in her notes. 

Este begged Matty to Airdrop a copy of Bagsy Not In Net over to her so that she could listen to it again. Sure, she was addicted to the charming orchestral introduction and how it pulsated alongside the beat as the song progressed. But really she was just desperate to hear the lyrics again.

She closed her eyes as she listened, taking in each word.

This feeling, it's something when you call me

I'm dealing in death and being lonely

Try it, don't like it

And leaving you here is the thing that I fear, so I fight it

Her heart panged at the idea of Matty being afraid of the end. Then Because She Goes was almost an anthem of hope, or of reassurance, that their time apart would at least be temporary. But this—these lyrics—hit Este in such a different way. It was desperate and stark and honest. Matty was begging for her to agree that they were all or nothing. That even death is something they ought to do as a pair. Este couldn’t possibly make sense of how huge the sentiment was, and how beautifully it came together with the instrumental. 

The song looped a couple of times before she finally pressed pause. Este shrugged the headphones off of her head and set them back onto her bedside table. The noise of her headphones made Matty open his eyes, realising that she was still awake.

Her back was turned to him, so he peered over her shoulder to see the glowing screen of her phone. He watched Este open the notes app on her phone, and slowly type, “Do you want to leave at the same time?” into a new file. He sleepily smiled. 

She didn’t label it, or type anything further. Copying the line heard over and over in her new favourite song was the only objective. She was hoping that making note of it would help her remember it forever, even though she probably would anyway.

Moonwood: Part 5

Thank you all so much for your patience. We're baaaaack with an update.

|Part One Here|

It’s pretty stupid in Steve’s opinion that he still needs to get his mom to sign a permission slip to go to basketball camp, even though he’s eighteen.

“I don’t want to hear it Harrington.” The coach says when Steve tracks him down. “I can’t let you on the bus without a permission slip.”

Hank says it’s because the school doesn’t want to be liable if something happens to them out in the woods – and Steve can’t help but shiver a little at the way he says it. Like he expects something or knows something Steve doesn’t. But he tells himself he’s being crazy. Anything could happen in a national park but that doesn’t mean something is going to. There’s gotta be like safe areas mapped out for the public, right? It’s probably a good thing the slip reads like a contract: I understand the risk my child is taking and waive my rights to be pissed about it if they get chewed on by a grizzly bear. It shows they’ve thought things through. At least Steve hopes they’ve thought it through – if he’s honest, he’s not sure how he feels about spending a week in the woods with a bunch of keyed up guys all jonesing to impress Billy Hargrove.

Because it’s pretty obvious after the first round that the team captains have a lot of pull with the coach.

“Hey sweetheart!” Steve’s mom is in the living room, working on some crochet toy for a neighbor who is having a baby. Steve had no idea she could crochet until she started making the toy. Apparently, she was pretty crafty before she met his dad. Steve’s dad didn’t think it was a sexy enough hobby or something. Said it was for old women and spinsters.

“How was tryouts?” Aunt Julie asks when he walks in. She’s knitting what looks like a hooded onesie with ears and a fluffy tail attached. It’s pretty damn cute.

“Wasn’t much of a tryout. The coach wasn’t even there, and the captains just ran us ragged the whole time.” He grumbles, shrugging his duffle off his shoulder and throwing himself down onto the couch beside his mom. She she laughs as the cushions sag beneath his weight.

“Coach Brown is a godsend to that school. He knows how to pick the right personalities, people who really work well together and form a solid bond.” Aunt Julie sighs wistfully. “It was much different when your mom and I were in school. There was a lot of tension between us and the Schiller folks. I felt like I was always on my guard, looking over my shoulder.”

“What’s up with that, by the way?” Steve asks, eager to finally have an explanation for the weird vibes everyone seems to have about Moonwood. “Why are people like, scared of this place? It can’t just be because of the forest.”

Steve’s mom and his aunt share a strange look.

“They’re scared of us. Because we’re different.” Aunt Julie says, but before Steve can ask her what she means his mom is shaking her head and hissing something at Julie in Lythan. They go back and forth like that for a moment and Steve just knows that they’re talking about him, and he’s sick of being left in the dark.

“Whoa whoa whoa, guys!” He snaps. “In english please! I’m right here and I want to know what’s going on. Mom?”

Steve’s mom looks tortured, like Steve is holding a lighter to her feet. His aunt heaves a heavy sigh and flips her long dark hair over her shoulder.

“It’s time to tell him Jess. The bonfire is tomorrow night.”

Steve wants to know what’s going on and why everyone keeps talking about the bonfire as if it’s so important, when it’s just a bunch of people from the neighborhood getting together to tell ghost stories and get plastered. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting his mom to say but it’s not that she’s a werewolf.

He thinks she’s pulling his leg at first, cause what else can she be doing but then aunt Julie chimes in and they both just won’t stop. They tell him that the people in their village have always turned into wolves and that they came to the new world to escape persecution. He’s kind of mad at himself, how long he listens until they get to the part with the witch.

“Time out! Time out! You expect me to believe you guys, grandma and grandpa and all the rest, you’re werewolves, and everybody knows about it because you fought a witch?” Steve laughs even though it’s not really funny and waits for them – but nobody laughs with him.

“Yes. She’d put a curse on the village and the people there to force them to pay tithes and make sacrifices to her.” His mom says and his aunt nods, continuing.

“When the townspeople rose against her, her coven came to exact their vengeance. The pack protected them, and in exchange we were given this land. Although the area has grown and many new people have come, there are people dedicated to keeping the old truce alive.”

“That’s why you needed to know before the bonfire. There will be representatives from the other towns there, new and old. There will be a demonstration and the pact between our communities will be renewed.” His mom finishes.

Steve gets up and stomps off. He is mad. He is so mad that she would play such a weird stupid prank on him instead of just being honest; but mostly he’s afraid. He’s afraid because it doesn’t make sense and he can’t figure out why she would do it or why aunt Julie would help her and when his grandpa knocks on the door of his room later and asks to come in, his heart sinks into his stomach.

He knows what his grandfather wants to talk about as he sits down on the edge of his bed before he even says a word – and it just doesn’t make sense. It can’t be real. It just can’t be. There’s no such thing as werewolves, and the only witches he knows are edgy girls who like to collect crystals.

“Your mom says you had quite the talk earlier.” His grandpa starts with a small sigh. “How ya doing Pip?”

“You mean with the discovery that my family is either insane or they’re werewolves?” Steve sneers, not looking away from where his gaze is fixed on the ceiling. “I’m still wrestling with it.”

“Well, go easy on your mom while you wrestle. She’s had a rough couple of months. It ain’t easy breaking with a soulmate.”

“Soulmate? I thought you hated my dad.”

“Don’t matter what I think of him” grandpa grunts. “Wolves mate for life. We’re born for someone, and common thought was they were born for us. But well your mom… she loved that man with all she had, but there wasn’t much in him for loving.”

And that’s how Steve discovered that it’s real – the stories his mom used to tell him about soulmates, and how one day he’d grow up and he’d meet someone, and when he’d look at them, he’d just know he was made to love them.

“This is crazy. I don’t – I don’t want…” Steve bites back tears, unable to get the words out. He doesn’t think his grandpa is a liar, and the whole family can’t be crazy. But he doesn’t want this to be real. Not if it means he might be made to love someone who will never love him back. His dad didn’t get it, why Steve would choose to be broke and struggle with his mom instead of have his future pathed for him and live in comfort with his dad.

The thought that it might be his destiny to live like that, with his hand out always waiting on love that won’t come… Steve cries and his grandfather pats his shoulder awkwardly, but lovingly.

“I’m awful glad to have you Stevie and I wouldn’t change a thing, but I’ve always hoped maybe she was wrong. You don’t know a soul bond until you feel it and it’s easy for a young girl to lose her head. In any case, she’s the only one I’ve ever heard of with a one-way tie like that.”

“What does it feel like?” Steve finds himself asking, but the strange thing is how he knows the answer even before he finishes the question.

When you see them, it’s like everything slows down so you don’t miss them. Like something’s forcing you to pay attention. And once you do, it’s like everything else pales in comparison. You’re always thinking about them, always bumping into them and trying to be near them without thinking about it, because that’s where you’re happiest. Even if you don’t know it yet. Nobody can lift you up or put you down quicker than they can. They see more of you than anyone else, and you see them too. You can try and ignore the pull, but the tide will always bring you right back to them.

Steve listens to his grandpa wax on and on about what it was like when he first felt the connection with his grandmother and it should be just a sweet story to him. Something to give him hope for the future.

But what happened is his heart starts to beat and his palms start to sweat as Billy Hargrove’s face floats to the front of his mind where it absolutely doesn’t belong.

Unless…

But they can’t be. Can they?

Friendly tags for those who have asked in the past:

@darleenjade @sweetwaterangel @dragonflylady77 @natchula @tip-tap-tired @sparklingsprinkles @adelacreations @bluetree76 @deadfromtheneckdown @heavensfinest @marklee-blackmore @slightlydepressedmelon @percabeth-trashcan @a-lovely-craziness

It’s been an entire week since I shoved a bunch of STAR WARS fic recs at everyone, but I’m back with more because this fandom is amazing and ones that are some real doozies, like, I inhaled some of this fic and absolutely needed to scream about it. Whether it’s time travel fic (so many good time travel recs holy crap) or throwing two random characters together (time traveling Cal as Obi-Wan’s padawan, I never knew I needed that in my life!) or good character pieces for those who deserve it (Mace Windu my beloved) or some absolutely feral Obi-Wan and Anakin dynamics or peeling back Anakin Skywalker’s character like an onion until you see all the fascinating complexity underneath or Jedi Order worldbuilding (I love those weird psychic space wizards so much), there’s a little something for everyone here, I hope. One thing I will always appreciate about this fandom is that, whatever else you might say about it, there are some tremendously talented people writing fic that makes me fall in love with the characters all over again, who bring comfort with their writing when we’re having a bad day or bad week, who brighten up the world just by being in it and sharing their crafts with us, who make my world better just by being there. People who love these silly characters from our shows just as much as I do and are having some fun out there and giving me a whole lot of feelings and even the occasional sexy times fic to make the day just that much more fun to get through. I may say this every time, but it always remains true, this list is just banger after banger for me, every one of these made my brain light up with joy or fizziness because it was so good and punched me right in the feelings or the fun, fritzing out my thoughts place, to the point that I cannot believe I have 45+ of them for just this one set! And I’ll have that same amount to do again next time! There are so many in my to-write-recs for pile! Because this fandom is just nuts with how amazing it is and I love everyone in this bar for it. STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & bruck & feemor & jaster & dooku & rael & cast, time travel, 127.9k wip    The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ Crazy Centaxday by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & padme & mace & palpatine & cast, body swap, 4.8k    Anakin and Obi-Wan are having an… out of body experience. Unfortunately, no one seems to be noticing. Fortunately, the Team’s weird shenanigans might be enough to save the galaxy in the end. Just why are Skywalker and Kenobi acting so out of character? ✦ A Jedi’s Cloak by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cody & rex & cast, 6.4k    Or: Jedi cloaks are weird. Here’s a series of events showing why they’re made that way. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cody & cast, time travel, 32.9k wip    Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi’s weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ all in mail, never clinking by calika, obi-wan & ahsoka, 2.9k    Of course, it’s only after she’s been thoroughly humbled by the deceptively slippery rocks and swallowed what feels like half the stream that her grandmaster, having arrived unnoticed, deigns to speak. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, dooku & obi-wan & anakin, time travel, 4.3k wip    Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ eat well; be well by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & ahsoka & mace & yoda & shaak & feemor & depa & quinlan & aayla & kanan & jedi cast, 18.6k    Or, Obi-Wan and his (almost full) family gathers to drink tea. ✦ Garberwool by Blue_Sunshine, obi-wan & anakin, 1k    Or: Old Ben Kenobi has a question. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi has a vision. And Darth Vader is left with… a robe. ✦ mazarine by maragny, anakin/aayla, NSFW, 3.6k    Anakin and Aayla take advantage of finally being on the same planet as each other. ✦ a soul that’s born in cold and rain/knows sunlight by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & cast, time travel, 43.4k    Obi-Wan Kenobi travels back in time to fix things. He also annoys a lot of people. ✦ Patterns Form and Feel Important (It Overwhelms the Nervous System) by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & cast, 8.6k    Obi-Wan and his Padawans have been captured. Obi-Wan has been betrayed. Obi-Wan is dead. Obi-Wan is fighting his Padawan. Obi-Wan is being forced to turn on the people he loves. Obi-Wan is locked up and barely holding onto consciousness. All of these things are true. And yet only one of them is real. ✦ from the wild winds around you by gingerbeer, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 2.3k    Or, the Mortis arc goes a little bit sideways. (It’s fine. Don’t worry.) ✦ Creché Duty by sadieadlersimp (ethantorchiomybeloved), anakin & grogu & cast, 1.3k    Anakin Skywalker gets put in charge of the toddlers while Yoda attends an emergency council meeting. Surely the Chosen One can handle a few toddlers, no? (Spoiler alert, he can’t.) ✦ On Hugs and Warm Blankets by moonlightpadawan, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 1.3k    [or: Anakin’s reaction to pain meds leaves him acting overly affectionate.] ✦ Lightsaber Lesson by AdaliaK, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.1k    Anakin and Ahsoka’s relationship goes through some growing pains when Anakin disciplines Ahsoka by taking away her lightsaber. Obi-Wan is an amused bystander. ✦ Last Rites by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & ahsoka & mace & cast, 3k    “I’m so sorry Ahsoka.” He said after a moment with a slight tremble in his voice. “I know from experience how it feels to have someone you love die in your arms. To feel them take their last breath…” Obi-Wan is back from the dead, he tries to help his Grand-Padawan through her grief. ✦ deep cuts by gigglesandfreckles, anakin & satine (referenced obi-wan/satine), 3.8k    [or: anakin ends up on a mission with satine, things are tense.] ✦ How to Train your Droid by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex, 2.9k    A bored and michevious Anakin Skywalker is a recipe for something to go awry. After all, reprograming Artoo’s language core is a great idea for a prank… but it turns out, Artoo has a lot to say. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Electric Love by thedeadparrot, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, 3.4k    Vader stepped forward, deeper into the cell, and reached out one hand. It pressed against Obi-Wan’s tunic, clean metal meeting dirty fabric. Vader’s suit only had the most rudimentary of sensors – he preferred to use the Force over his physical hands. But this was Obi-Wan Kenobi offered up for him, and nothing less than physical touch would do. ✦ Redolent of you by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, undercover mission, 15.5k wip    Anakin and Obi-Wan are sent on an undercover operation as an alpha and omega bonded pair in the middle of the Clone Wars. Someone on Cantonica is funneling credits to the Separatists, and it’s going to take infiltrating a top secret alpha-supremacist group of Core elites to find out who’s upping the financial ante of the entire war. This act of espionage is going to require some class A play at antiquated alpha and omega dynamics, only problem is Anakin has never submitted in his life and it’s certainly not within his nature,or so Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ tender like a bruise by stardies, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, 15k wip    In a stroke of desperation, Obi-wan mates Anakin Skywalker by force on the fiery planet of Mustafar to stop his Fall and save his life. Taken back to Coruscant and imprisoned, Anakin feels the senate’s pressure for justice, and Obi-wan, his mate and former mentor, is determined to give him another chance. ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 113k wip    In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker’s miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ How to Save a Galactic Republic Without Really Trying by Sharp_Tongue, obi-wan/anakin & mace & quinlan & cast, nsfw, time travel, 23.9k    After defeating Vader on a barren, nameless moon, Obi-Wan had let go of the past. But the past hadn’t let go of him. ✦ Heal Me, My Darling by wasureneba, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 12.4k    Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan takes care of him. For two weeks. Alone. ✦ Suckerpunch by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 13.6k    In this universe, Obi-Wan goes to check on Anakin about Clovis after Anakin’s violent altercation with his rival, instead of before, and everything changes. Padmé has already kicked him out for scaring her, and he’s in a crisis of loneliness and grief. He breaks down, and Obi-Wan is there to pick up the pieces, even if the weight of Anakin’s crimes is too heavy to imagine. ✦ Slow Learner by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 12.6k    Four times Anakin tried to fit Obi-Wan’s big dick inside him and one time he managed it. ✦ Hold Fast by Ripki, obi-wan/anakin & padme & cast, nsfw, time travel, 41.4k    The Republic and the Jedi Order have fallen, people everywhere facing a dark future. His world shattered, Obi-Wan tries to change the fate of the whole galaxy – and not least because he cannot let go of the man he loves. But will Anakin hinder or help him? ✦ Baby, It’s Halloween (And We Can Be Anything) by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, modern au, 5.3k    Anakin goes to his office’s annual Halloween party, looking hot as hell and fully intending to get drunk with his work friends. He can hardly enjoy himself, though, seeing as his work crush never comes to the office parties. ✦ For He, too, is King by MayMeows, obi-wan/anakin & padme & cast, NSFW, historical au, 7.7k    “I am here to present myself to the man who now calls himself King of my people.” ✦ pure uncomplicated love by TheSopherfly, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, modern au, 4.2k    Hours before he’s due to arrive at Open Circle Studios’ annual celebration, screen actor Anakin Skywalker finds out that his ex, Obi-Wan Kenobi, will be in attendance. Anakin wishes he could be angry—but all he wants is for Obi-Wan to take him back. ✦ Fever by dirkygoodness, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, nyanakin, 3.5k    Obi-Wan wakes up to a cuddly (Ny)Anakin and is met with something he isn’t expecting. He’s going to have to deal with it though. And enjoy himself as he does. ✦ Hooked on You by whohatessand, obi-wan/anakin & padme & bail, NSFW, modern au, infidelity, 5.2k    With his wife’s approaching senatorial election, Anakin Skywalker tries desperately to be the perfect husband she needs. Little does Padmé know, her husband has been sleeping with her campaign manager, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for quite a while now. ✦ The Same Cloth (in foreign stars) by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & dooku & quinlan & cody & rex, NSFW, historical au, 11.1k wip    Welcome to 18th century Scotland, the only thing Anakin likes here is Obi-Wan Kenobi in a kilt. ✦ such selfish prayers (and i can’t get enough) by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, ~1k    He keeps taking whatever Anakin offers him: takes it with possessive hands, a greedy heart and a gluttonous soul, and the dying embers of a guilty conscience. ✦ sail through the deep, the dark of space by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, space pirates au, 2.7k    They slipped in and out with the Empire none the wiser. Well, it was more like they crashed in and out with the Empire a lot the wiser, but in the end it was really the same thing—not that Anakin expected Obi-Wan would see it that way. ✦ Of Devotion and Defilement by al_mp4, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, punishment, 5.3k    Anakin Skywalker wants to be good, to be useful, yet it seems he can only beg for pleasures he doesn’t deserve. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 21: Beer and Paint by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 6.1k    Artists AU, drunk sex. ✦ and when you look at me, the weight of how i feel is heavy on me by brahe, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & depa & cast, nsfw, 37.9k    5 times Anakin asks Obi-Wan to marry him, and one time Obi-Wan asks ✦ stay til the dawn, i’ll give you the sun by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, royal!obi-wan, 40.2k    Jedi Anakin Skywalker crashes in a field on the planet Stewjon. Out of respect for the Jedi Order, King Kenobi takes a personal interest in his recovery…especially when they accidentally form a Force bond, scant hours after Kenobi alerts the Jedi Council to Skywalker’s presence so they can come retrieve their Jedi. But if Anakin can’t remember who he is, is he really still their Jedi? What’s stopping him from being Obi-Wan’s? ✦ short shallow gasps by mysticmjolnir, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, d/s, spanking, daddy kink, 4.9k    Obi-Wan gets surprised by Anakin when he comes home from work. ✦ illicit affairs by Urgirl415, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k    Anakin needs something that Obi-Wan is more than willing to provide. Even if it means having his doorbell rung in the middle of the night. Or, Anakin cheats on Padme with Obi-Wan. Regularly. ✦ baby teeth by stardies, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 8.2k    During a mission, Anakin runs out of suppressants. Obi-wan Kenobi is called in to tend to his former padawan. ✦ His Hands by Aariel, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, 4.3k    Vader’s in his bacta tank, and as usual, he’s angry, hurting, and miserable. Fortunately, force-projection!Obi-Wan is “on hand” to offer Vader some much-needed relief. ✦ Dough or Doughnut, There is No Rye by edge_of_night, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, modern au, 4k    Obi-Wan stops in a local bakery on his way to work for some fresh-baked bread and walks out in love with a very talented baker. ✦ eat, sleep, wake (nothing but you) by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.7k    Obi-Wan twists his fingers inside him, pressing, pressing, and Anakin jolts with pleasure the exact same moment when an entirely different kind of noise rips through the room. A stomach growling. His stomach growling. Aggressively. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE

Upon reflecting this past year, I’m reminded of one area as a fandom citizen that i am lacking - reading fic. And so was born an idea to canvas my fandom family and friends to share with me a fic they've written, art they've created, a podfic they've recorded in 2023 of which they are most proud.

This two part 'rec yourself' list is the result.

Part One features Drarry creations (heavily featured since that's my OTP). Part Two (here) includes a kick-ass mix of various HP ships and ships from other fandoms, including Carry On, Check Please!, Good Omens, Teen Wolf, and Stranger Things. Also, and most importantly, each entry presents a smol blurb from the creator about why they chose their particular piece as their 2023 favorite.

For ease in reading, I've also placed all submitted works posted to AO3 into a filterable bookmark collection, Rec Yourself 2023. Be aware that there's a range of ratings and archive/creator tags, so please, take appropriate responsibility for your personal consumption. And please also be sure to shower the creators with kudos and lovely comments.

Y'all. This endeavor has been a fucking blast. One thing's for sure, I am blessed, humbled and honored to know a whole bunch of fantastic, brilliant, fun folks. Big love to you all, and thank you for participating.

So go forth. Indulge and enjoy! xo peach

* * *

✩ @pato-roldnart ✩ Quiet as a mouse HP | Viktor Krum x Ron Weasely | ART | G rating | Unleashed!Fest 2023 I'm quite proud of this one, I don't know how I made it, I had never drawn them before! My mind went full "oh yeah ronvik " Also, I like the idea of them bonding over their pets and Ron seeing that Viktor cares about something else that is not Quidditch.

✩ @tontonguetonks ✩ Coffee and a Croissant HP Next Gen | Scorpius x Albus | 903 FIC | G rating There are parts of myself and my lived experience in every story and character I write—how I socialize, how I take my coffee… I can’t help it. In *Coffee and a Croissant*, I put a lot of myself in my ace and autistic Albus. He is very dear to me in this story, and in my Fizzy Lifting Drinks drabble. The fic is just a toe-dip in the Soulmate waters where Albus grapples with what to do if he is someone’s Soulmate, but they’re not his. Parts 2 and 3 are in the works, but there is no timeline on either of them. Maybe in 2024?

✩ @crazybutgood ✩ I Bloom Pink For You HP | Narcissa Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson | 993 FIC + ORIGAMI COMIC | M rating | HP Bodice Ripper Fest 2023 This whole idea came about because I got so excited to fold a corset for hp bodice ripper fest, realised I couldn't just submit that one thing, and started brainstorming more loose ideas. It all clicked together when I was inspired by a fic by @schmem14, whose writing I adore. I was so grateful and even more excited when Em gave permission to make this. From there started the self-indulgent process of folding fancy things with fancier papers for this origami comic, and I couldn't have done it without Em and my lovely support team.

✩ @seekercass ✩ Something Cosmic HP | Cedric x Draco x Harry | 1.7k FIC | M rating | Polyship Week 2022 A self-rec that I am still extremely proud of is a short fic written for Polyshipping Week 2022 called Something Cosmic. It's a small coda to Something Good to Always Keep, another fic that I wrote for Quidditch Fest 2021 that I cherish very much. Even though writing is still hard for me these days, I often think about this 'verse and what life is like for Harry, Draco and Cedric after they graduated from Oxford. These three and slice of life bring me such joy. I hope to write more of them.

✩ @roseharpermaxwell ✩ Sounds Worth It HP | Hermione x Draco | 5k FIC | T rating | D/Hr Advent 2023 Being nominated for d/hr advent was a sweet surprise. It gave me a good excuse to remember how to write and the nudge I needed to create something this year.

✩ @basicallyahedgehog ✩ (They) Keep Me Warm HP | Hermione x Harry x Ron | 5.8k FIC | E rating | HP Trans Fest 2023 This was my transfest fic - I wrote it as a love letter to all my trans and Enby friends and as a way of processing some of my own feelings. It’s my first (and so far only) foray into poly golden trio and I loved playing with their dynamics with that added layer to their relationship.

✩ @lumosatnight ✩ For I Have Found Salvation HP | Harry x Severus | 7.1k FIC | E rating | Snarry AUctoberfest 2023 Although this is a smut fic at its core, I tried really hard to make the pacing flow, bringing in background characters, and creating memorable imagery. I am very proud of how it turned out. However, this is probably my favorite fic from 2023 simply for the fact that I had the most fun writing it!

✩ @sugareey-makes-stuff ✩ Feel You Breathing Teen Wolf | Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | 8.4k TEXTING FIC | E rating | 2023 Year of the OTP This is my fav 2023 piece because I learned how to create a custom text message AO3 skin, stylize things for plain text reading, and I wrote a whole story  that had some plot that was told through text messages. Also, I did not know I could achieve so much spiciness and throw in so many bad pick-up lines through this medium, but hey, the more you know! XD

✩ @schmem14 ✩ Mastermind HP | Harry x Ron; Draco x Harry; Ron x Draco | 10.7k FIC | E rating | Dronarry Fest 2023 This is one of the few times a story just flew out of me. Possessive stalker Draco sets out to win over Ron in this creepy thriller, but there’s a catch: Ron is already in love with Draco’s boyfriend, Harry.

✩ @drwhoisginnyholmes & @fledglinger ✩ Not Bad, For A 6000 Year Old Classic! Good Omens | Aziraphale x Crowley | 11.8k FIC + ART | E rating | DIWS Reverse! Reverse! Mini Bang

✩ @sniperjade ✩ The Sounds of Us HP Marauders | Regulus x Remus | 20.4k FIC | M rating | Remus Lupin Fest 2023; HPFC Spring Fling 2023 I've been thinking about this for a couple of days and whilst I would really love to say it was the drarry I wrote for this fest last year my favourite would have to be this moonseeker I wrote for Remus Lupin Fest last year. It's my favourite because I lived this fic. It became the entirety of my personality for a whole month because I desperately needed to get to the chapter where Regulus was riding on Padfoots back, through the forbidden forest, with only the light of the full moon to guide them, just to try and help Remus. It's also just because it's very musical and I'm very musical so that makes me love it all the more.

✩ @ghaniblue ✩ Sleeping With Ghosts HP | Regulus x Draco x Harry | 21.9k FIC | M rating | Harry Potter Rare Pair Fest IV I posted a Regulus/Harry/Draco fic last month that I'm very fond of. I started writing it more than 1 1/2 years ago, before I ever read a single Regulus fic. It's triad fic, and I'm pretty proud of the way the individual relationships develop. That was important to me, and I think I succeeded. Posting the first fic on ao3 with this triad tag doesn't hurt either.

✩ @celilasart & @wolfspurr ✩ Shifted Teen Wolf | Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski | 25k FIC + ART | T rating | Sterek Reverse Bang This work was created for sterek reverse bang, a collaboration fest where the artists create first and the writers write second. wolfspurr and I just clicked when we talked about my art and the things that it inspired in their writer brain ;D the result is just an amazingly sweet and wholesome fic, that is still set in the teenwolf universe as we know it. but unlike many other fics which are full of violence and danger, this one starts with a bang and then it is a beautifully woven story of two people who just complete each other. also... the working title for my art was: tiny fox & sour wolf.

✩ @orange-peony ✩ At the speed of light Carry On | Basilton Pitch x Simon Snow | 26.3k FIC | E rating I picked [this fic] because I had a lot of fun writing it! It started off as a drabble and ended up 26k because I just had a blast writing it and the fandom support was so lovely. Last but not least, Pato made an absolutely stunning art piece for this fic, and it was the best present ever.

✩ @wynnyfryd ✩ i don’t know, you figure it out Stranger Things | Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson | 35.4k WIP FIC | E rating bragging about yourself is difficult, but i’ll just say it’s my favorite because i’m proud of myself for sticking to one project for this long, i love all the artwork the fic has inspired, and i just think the line “the river styx must taste like pennies” fucks severely lmao.

✩ @decaflondonfog ✩ growing pains Check Please! | Eric Bittle x Kent Parson | 50k FIC | T rating i am not usually a long fic gal, which i think is in part lack of patience, but also how attached i get to a universe if i’m working on it for a longer period of time. i finished writing this back in june but this fic felt very “me” in many ways and i think about them so often still  so it’s definitely my 2023 creation i’m proudest of!

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

Asks are open, feel free to make requests, and definately let me know if there's any characters I should add to my writing list😋❤️

Fic Request Form

This masterlist will be updated as I write for it😋

Hazbin Headcanons:

❤️Charlie❤️

"Welcome to our home of healing! Our resort of restoration..."

🔪Vaggie🔪

🥃Husker🥃

"Nice try, fuckhead."

"You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet!"

🕸️Angel Dust🕸️

"Hey, whatever means I can keep crashin' here rent free... crack is expensive."

🌪️Niffty🌪️

"Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others."

🎙️Alastor🎙️

"This face was made for radio!"

Daddy Alastor

🥚Sir Pentious🥚

🐤Lucifer🐤

"I'll shelter and adore you more than anything..."

Character x Character Headcanons

HuskerDust Headcanons (romantic)

Fizzie's Fics:

❤️Charlie❤️

🔪Vaggie🔪

🥃Husker🥃

🕸️Angel Dust🕸️

🌪️Niffty🌪️

🎙️Alastor🎙️

A Surprise For You My Dear

🥚Sir Pentious🥚

🐤Lucifer🐤

Character x Character Fics

Hazbin Lyricals:

Angel Dust

Baggage

"Love"

Flirting 101 with Charlie

Getting some bad vibes here

On Her Princess Sh!t

Fizzie's Top 10's:

Hazbin Hotel Quotes

Hazbin Hotel Scenes & Why

Fizziepop Takes:

Let's talk about.....

Charlie the assassin?

What we know about Husk.... and what we need to know

Theories with Fizzie:

Why is Niffty the way she is?

Is Lillith the one holding Alastor's leash?

k.

hongjoong x reader, long distance relationship

genre: romance, suggestive

word count: 1k

song rec: k. by cigarettes after sex

warnings: suggestive (nothing explicit), lowercase intentional

a/n: i was inspired to write this for different reasons. one being the pic of hongjoong you can see above. and another, evidently, being this beautiful song. i especially encourage you to listen to k. by cigarettes after sex while you read this fic, because that's the song it's based on. you'll understand when you read the lyrics <3 but even the vibe of it is... yeah, beautiful. i just hope i captured that here. hope you all enjoy.

the needle threaded through the grooves of the vinyl as it spun, delicately. elegantly. the soft tones of the music whispered through the apartment like wind tickling the branches.

hongjoong looked over at the figure laying next to him. you, in all your perfectness. lying beside him, with nothing but a white sheet covering your bare skin, he being in the same condition.

he recalled yesterday's events...

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

fizzy feelings, high on memories spent with you, he remembered all these things as he waited for you at the airport. the anticipation became unbearable, and yet he stood perfectly still, his heart in his throat. eyes fixated on the landing planes, praying one of them was finally yours, he wondered if you were just as excited to see him. and when your plane landed, you bounded through the airport to come face-to-face with him.

you collided and embraced each other.

"i missed you," you whispered sensually as you grabbed onto each other for dear life. that was all you felt you could do. the closeness of your bodies alone was enough to make hongjoong desperate. leaning back, he must've looked you in the eyes, getting you to stare back into his. and oh, those eyes. you knew them so well. after all the time you've spent apart, you could still read him like a book. the longing that sparkled in his warm, passionate eyes. you knew that look all too well.

so back to his apartment you went.

it was different this time. desperate kisses and gripping and grabbing and longing and passion and fire. all done in style. all done the way it was supposed to be done. this is how making love is supposed to be. this is how the poets had written it to be. this is how the movies tried to capture it, although they never quite encapsulated the intoxicating essence of love that was so real to you both.

no strings attached, you both said. too far away from each other to develop feelings, but too attracted to each other not to act on them. that was a promise you both declared to each other. then why was it all so perfect?

and as you sat opposite each other, sitting in the restaurant like nothing insanely perfect had just occurred not an hour ago, there was something different. something had changed. he could see it in your eyes. the way they kept avoiding his, shyly, perhaps coyly. where had your previous sensual confidence gone? perhaps there was something more between you that made you second guess yourself. and when you did dare to look at him, your gaze meeting his, there was some sort of electric magic that neither of you could describe. hongjoong grinned gently to himself at this thought. perhaps he was right, after all.

"i missed you," you whispered under your breath. you said that previously that day, but it was different now. so different. the flirtatious spike from your voice had gone. it was replaced with a yearning tenderness that made his heart feel light.

"let's go back to my place" hongjoong suggested, eyes full of intense fondness. "i need to hold you again."

you felt a blush flutter on your cheeks, looking back down at your hands as you fiddled with your rings. it felt good to be wanted. but the tone in his voice made you weaker than before. he was much gentler now.

"if i do that, i might not ever leave," you breathed out a laugh, but there was a sadness that welled up in your eyes immediately. you tried to blink away the tears that started to glaze over. if you looked at him in the eyes again, you knew you would break down again.

"is that such a bad thing?"

and after promising yourself that you wouldn't look into his eyes again, your head lifted at his comment. he was serious. you could see his jaw clench; he held himself back from revealing all of his feelings. such a complicated man could never put into words what he was feeling. how could he? how could he tell you why he wanted you to stay?

"stay with me, i don't want you to leave."

it was an offer hard to say no to. and as you closed the door of hongjoong's apartment, he reached for a record. you watched his fingers gently place it on the player, lifting up the needle and sinking it down. the needle settled onto the vinyl perfectly and began to play.

as you stared at him, he came closer once again. closer, closer, and closer still. until your lips were brushing over each others, gently. eyes fixated onto his, there was a giddy smile that spread across your face.

your black clothes hung elegantly off your body as hongjoong's fingers gently worked at removing them. his lips scarcely grazed the skin of your neck, bringing forth soft sighs from your lips.

laying you tenderly on his bed, his lips caught yours once more. the song was nothing but background noise now...

~ kristen, come right back. i've been waiting for you to slip back in bed when you light the candle ~

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

now, he looks at you fondly, a smile gracing his features.

could he use the word love, now? arm over your waist, he brought your body ever so slightly closer to his. his smile deepened as he watched you sink into his arms once more.

~ and i'm kissing you lying in my room. holding you until you fall asleep...~

yes. love was the exact word. he wouldn't want to admit it before, but now he knows. you were where you should be. anywhere else other than his arms would be wrong.

~ and it's just as good as i knew it would be... ~

he just hoped you could see that too.

~ stay with me, i don't want you to leave ~

ateez taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @chammak-challokys, @halesandy, @chansburgah

~Stolen Glasses~

George Karim x Reader

Content: FLUFF and kissing

Summary: On one early morning, you decide to spice things up a little by stealing your lovers glasses.

Warnings: GRAMMER, it being my first fanfic I write.....

Word Count: 1,200 (according to Google Docs)

Notes: Ok y'all, This is my first fanfic ever writing and I sure do hope y'all like it. I apologize for my crappy writing. Please enjoy this fluffy fic I decided to do!!! I might do more.... just maybe.... (foreshadowinggggg).

@nevermoreakaemohogwarts I hope you like it!! <3

Warm, that's what you feel when you wake up. Eyes squinting as the sun beams down upon your face as you lie in your bed. Well, not your bed… more like George's bed. You two have been dating for about 3 months and you practically moved into his room. Let's just say you only go into his room when you have trouble sleeping or had a nightmare. Anyway, Someone must have opened the blinds while you were asleep. Only proves who had done it, which you were a little bit annoyed at. You also heard the shower running which meant that George must be in the shower. 

     Groaning you pulled the covers back and got up from the bed. You put on your fizzy socks as you look at the clock on George's night stand that reads 7 o'clock. You rolled your eyes since you could have slept in more. You were about to walk out when you spotted his glasses on his desk. A mischievous grin makes its way onto your face as you casually picked up his glasses and placed them in your pajama pocket. Your stomach gave a grumble which told you that you needed breakfast. 

     As you walked out of the room,  you could smell the tea that was already brewed and the delicious smelling blueberry pancakes. George must have woken up a lot earlier than you in order to make these. Walking down the stairs and into the kitchen, you realize how quiet it is, with the exception of the shower running. Oh right!! Lockwood and Lucy would not be back until around 8, their case included an overnight stay at a hotel. Well that's why it's so quiet.  

     You walked over to the counter and made yourself some tea and put some blueberry pancakes on a plate and decorated it. Syrup and whipped cream were the main toppings and you took the plate and your tea and sat down at the table. You took a sip of your warm tea and started eating your pancakes. "Mmmm George, these are so good", you say to yourself as you take the first bite.

     You loved the mornings at 35 Portland Row. Sun shining into the dining room and onto your face. The sounds of the birds chipping and the tea kettle whistling. Or sometimes it would be raining and those days were the best. But today was just another summer morning. 

     You then hear the shower shut off and the door to the bathroom opens. Then you see George with his wet messy hair sticking to his forehead with a big t-shirt on and guess what…. No trousers. You see George squint at you and all you could do is smile and blush at his stance.

"Y/n have you seen my glasses anywhere? I swore I put them on my dresser by my bed." You see him looking around the kitchen and moving things on the table.

"Not that I know of, Have you tried your pancakes because they are so good." You say trying to change the subject. George was now looking at you skeptically and turned back to his mug pouring the boiling water with the tea bag in it. Smirking, you slowly slipped the glasses out of your pocket and put them on your nose. 

     "Are you sure you ha-" he said as he turned around to see you mid bite into your pancake. You then continued to eat and smirked while George just stood there with a straight look on his face. "Y/n what do you have on your nose?" "I honestly do not know what you are talking about " you said as you sat back in your chair and looked at George. " Y/n…..you know exactly what I am talking about, now please give them back before I run into another wall." " Hmmmm…." You said thoughtfully as you put a finger to your chin. "No, sorry but I quite like your glasses, fit me well yea." 

     "If I do not get them in the next 3 seconds, there will be consequences." "And what would those consequences be?" You say as you raise an eyebrow. "You will see if you do not give them back" " I think I want to find out" you say smiling. 

 "Ok then, Three……" he says as he comes up closer to you ".... Two….." You have a feeling as to what's about to happen "....ONE…" 

     George lunges at you, hands at your sides tickling you. You laugh so hard trying to pry his hands away from you as George laughs and keeps tickling you. "GEORGE… STOPPPP!!" You say in between breaths as he continues tickling you. 

     You eventually escape his hands and quickly move to the other side of the table. " You know, this could all end if you would give me my glasses back." " Hmm… but I want to see what happens next." You held deep eye contact as You slowly moved toward the door. Looking behind you, you smirk and quickly run up the stairs, George following chasing after you. Laughter fills the air as you run into George's room and him hot on your tail. 

     "GEORGE WAIT AHH" You say as he tackles you onto his bed. Your laughs fill his ears and he pins your hands onto the bed with him straddling you. Your laughter fads as the both of you hold eye contact for a decent amount of time. Both of you are lost in each other's eyes and basking in the color of them. His dark chocolate brown eyes with your beautiful (e/c) eyes. George then glances at your lips and slowly moves in as if for a kiss. Just as your lips are about to touch, he backs out last minute and snaches his glasses from your face. "HA I have gotten my reward for chasing you up here," George says with a proud look on his face. You on the other hand are pretty flustered and as red as a tomato since you were teased. 

     "Not gonna lie, but my darling, you look quite good in my glasses." "Oh just shut up and kiss me already," you say as you put your arms around his neck. "As you wish my love," and the both of you lean in and press your lips to his lips. 

     This kiss was long and so much love and passion was put into that kiss. George's hand eventually went to your cheek as your hands started playing with the hairs on the back of his head. 

     As you pull away, George collapses on your chest with his head in your neck. You laugh as he snuggles more deeper into your neck. "Well, that was fun," you say as you play with George's hair. "Yea.. Maybe you should steal my glasses more often, my love." "Ok, I think I will, besides, I have got more plans to come as to when to STRIKE!!" you say as you snatch his glasses from his hand. "NOPE, you are too slick for that one darling," he says as he snatches them back and puts them on his face. You then pout and then George just busts out laughing. "Darling, you know that does not work on me." "Worth a try," you say as you place a soft kiss on top of his head. You both just sit there in comfortable silence and cuddling for about a good 5 minutes. 

     "Alright then, we better go down and eat breakfast before Lockwood and Lucy come home," George says as he gets up. "Yes you're indeed right," you say as you get up. George then waits for you at the door and interlocks your hand into his and shares one final short kiss before walking down stairs together. Oh yes, you were so going to get him back

✧ the mirror doesn't lie ✧ 3k, m

this wasn't about chan's validation to your body. it's about your own. it was about how you felt, not how someone else did. it didn't matter than chan loved your body. it mattered that you did.

pairing: chan x fem!reader (plus size/curvy reader with tattoos) genre: angst/hurt, romance, nonidol!au, chan/reader are graphic designers warnings: please be aware this fic is on the topic of certain health/eating disorders and body issues etc. warnings are under the cut! pls be safe!! lapslock and mostly proof read (this is kind of like a love letter to all you thicc baddies, fuck everyone else.) ♡please reblog if you liked! it rly helps and i love to hear your feedback♡

!!warnings!!

mentions/implications of sex, eating disorders, descriptions of food, negative implied weight discussions, fatphobia, mentions of purging/vomiting (no acts done in fic) of any of this triggers you please don't read! ❤️

-

you were never uncomfortable in your body. if anything, you celebrated all of your curves and slopes. it was a blessing to to have this beautiful figure, large chest and hips matching with your full pouty lips.

the mirror doesn't lie, but sometimes the lighting does. when you glance in the mirror, just leaning over the sink, you notice the softness of your neck, the way it gently sits on the slant of your jaw bone. you run your finger along the side of your cheek, the plush flesh sinking in with your touch.

a sigh leaves you, knowing the weight of the words your co-workers rang in your ears. 'we're trying to help you, you'll feel better,' they said, 'if you lost a few kilos, your jaw line would would be stunning if it showed.'

they coated it by saying they'd be able to see your face more, your 'beauty'. as if you weren't already stunning.

in other words, you were ugly. you were not the ideal. gentle gaslighting in their words, laced with fucked up ideas of singular ways of beauty and fatphobia.

you weren't stupid, you knew this was all rooted in the capitalist ideals of beauty culture, fucked up ways to make women into barbie dolls and control them. it was tempting, just to see what it was like to be viewed in the way society wants you, validation pouring into your cup until it runs over.

you hang your head, maybe i should try it.

maybe. just to see what it's like.

-

tiredness was in your eyes, dark circles barely covered by concealer and setting powder. you were a shell, hunger making you irritated the more the days went on. some days you'd just sleep, body overtaken by lack of energy. other days you'd fill yourself up with fizzy drink, laying on the couch scrolling through your phone mindlessly.

your co-worker chan sits across from you, eyeing the coke zero and apple sitting in front of you untouched.

"not hungry?" he asks, slurping a mouth full of noodles as he draws with one hand on the mouse.

chan is somewhere in between some design sketches, half concentrating on you and half on the monitor. one of your favourite things about chan was his smile, the cute way his cheeks lifted and how they pushed up his glasses. he'd always complain about the way they sat but never did anything about it. sometimes, his tongue would stick out just a little bit to the side when he was in the zone. it was your favourite thing.

you shake your head, mind failing to muster up the energy to concentrate on anything. "nah, had a big brekky."

that was a lie.

chan says nothing, eyes glancing up you. he pulls his lips in, mouth curling at the side.

-

a few mornings after, you arrive at your work desk. there's a small tupperware container, sitting just at the front of your keyboard. there's no writing, just a small little heart on the front of the paper. you plop down to your chair, legs running on nothing but an iced latte.

it's food. the one thing you've been avoiding. but who's it from?

you open the box a large sandwich cut into a love heart. it's absolutely adorable, you almost don't want to think about eating it.

"hey chaaaan..." you begin, moving the sandwich around to admire it. it's cute. "did you see anyone leave this at my desk?"

chan shrugs, looking up at you from his adjacent desk just in front of yours, sipping on his orange juice. "i dunno, haven't seen anyone."

"weird." you say curiously, placing it back down.

-

it's been a week, every morning you're met with something new. yesterday was a hearty salad, with salsa dressing. the day before a stir fry, a small note with a heart every time. it has you confused, maybe someone had noticed you weren't eating. is it that obvious?

but this one morning, you decided to go in early to begin on a a large project your company was beginning on. you were actually thrilled about the current work, loving the fact that you were in charge of it this time. unfortunately, your lack of energy had you so damn tired. it had been three weeks since you started this so called diet, you weren't sure you could do it much longer.

when you arrive to the office there's no one there, but some of the lights are on. maybe someone had the same idea. you make your way to the bathroom, dizziness swarming inside your body.

the mirror is the enemy you say to yourself, sighing as you lean on the counter. your company had never been formal, so you were happy to be able to wear whatever you pleased. your tee, now less tight across your chest, and black shorts not as snug as they once were on your waist. two more belt sizes down and you'd need a new one.

it was working... but at what cost?

the sound of feet shuffling enters your ears, your body automatically creeping over to inspect the noise. you lean around the corner of the bathroom, holding onto the door frame for balance.

it's chan, but he has something in his hands.

curiously, you inch forwards, not wanting to disturb him. here he is, placing a small box down in front of your computer. it's a small purple container, a banana placed down next to it. chan steps back, nodding to himself as he goes around to his desk. he looks kind of sad, like he's mourning something.

you don't want to make it obvious, so you rustle as you make your way to your desk, acting as if you didn't just see the man placing food on your keyboard.

"oh shit, hi." chan says, eyes wide with surprise. he clears his throat, eyes darting around. "when did you get here?"

"hmm a while ago, was just in the bathroom." you say standing to your desk. you look down at the package, your heart suddenly swelling.

chan knew, he knew this whole time. he noticed it when no one else did.

a few of your co-workers had mentioned your weight loss but you just insisted it wasn't anything new you were doing. knowing full well it was lies escaping your throat with every syllable. chan had always frowned, exiting the conversation quietly.

"did you... see someone?" you say gesturing to the item on your desk.

"hm? me? nope, nah." he shrugs, lips pouting. "i just got here."

that was a lie, he had been here for a while. the iced tea on his table nearly finished told it all, a few rings of water along the front of his desk.

you nod slowly, taking a seat. your head spins for a moment, neck giving out as you hang your head low.

"i, uh," chan begins, clearing his throat, "have a some tim tam cake, if you want it?"

you hadn't eaten in thirty hours, only thing your body running on was coffee and desperation. a small snack wouldn't hurt, your body needed something. anything. you didn't care if it was sweets. your mouth watered at the thought.

"who eats cake in the morning?"

"me." chan smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides. "c'mon, have some."

"alright then, i'll try." you say, leaning forwards.

chan scoops the cake with his spoon and holds his hand forwards, other underneath to catch any fallout. you take the spoon in your mouth, letting the food slide in. it tastes like heaven. you missed this so much, body practically jolting at the sugar rush.

chan smiles widely, eyes lighting up as you enjoy your food, your eyes closing for a moment to savour it. before you know it he has another spoon full sitting at your mouth, hands gesturing for you to take one more bite. he says nothing as he continues to feed you, his smile gentle and warm.

the sudden carb rush has you feeling weird, your body adjusting to the foreign intake.

"it's so good, who made it?" you speak with your mouth full, chocolate on the sides of your mouth.

"i did." he smiles without his teeth, handing you the last piece. you look down at the plate, realising you've eaten the whole slice. shit.

"i ate the whole thing, oh my god i'm sorry."

"dont be sorry, i have plenty more."

you smile, chocolate on your teeth. chan just laughs, pointing to your face. "you look cute with chocolate on your teeth."

you gasp, hand covering you mouth. "chan! stop."

the heavy weight of food in your stomach fills you, your body rushing with energy the more time goes on. it feels amazing, you forgot what this was like. the last few weeks without proper food having you appreciating every taste.

-

it's around lunch when chan asks you go to go to the cafe around the corner. you need some energy, a coffee will do. you've eaten enough for today.

"sure." you smile, grabbing your bag. you've got to avoid food this time, it's too much.

when you arrive at the cafe, chan spots a seat, slinging his tote bag on the back of the chair. "they've got this amazing ham and cheese croissant, i'll get you one."

"but-" you begin, but he's already off to wait in line.

anxiety jolts in your tummy. how would you avoid this? maybe say you just feel sick, that the chocolate cake has your stomach feeling funny. anything. chan sits across from you, a few minutes later with a coffee and some other drink in his had.

"i'm not that hungry." you say, fingers scrolling through something in your phone.

"you are." he says, tone a little serious.

you look up at him, his eyes trained on your own. he stares at you, lips curling to the side. "i know you're not eating."

"ah, yes i have." you gest, eyebrows raised. "of course i have, i have."

"you wouldn't be over justifying it if you had been."

the words sound harsh. it's almost like a feeling of bitterness, a throbbing stings in your skull.

"i was just like, watching what i was eating. that's all." you shrug, taking a sip of your iced latte.

"not eating is not watching what you eat."

you've never seen him this serious, but there still a softness in his voice. you're thankful it's coming from him, otherwise you'd probably be crying by now.

"why are you being so... mean? it's not your business." you scorn, emotions feeling high from your mood swings.

"i'm not being mean... i just want you to eat."

the words are gentle, forlorn expression on his face. his bluntness surprises you.

you sit in silence, eyes avoiding his. the waiter brings over your food a couple of minutes later, you're thankful for the intrusion, but now you have to eat. it's like you've forgotten.

chan digs in, not waiting a second to eat. his eyes are looking at your food, then back at you.

"eat." he says, almost commanding, mouth full of food.

fuck it. you think, grabbing the knife and fork beside the plate.

before you know it you've finished the whole plate. the fullness of your stomach just a little bit too much, but you love the feeling. it feels amazing, your body rushing with dopamine. the more you eat the more he smiles, happy you finally have something in your stomach. what he doesn't know is the sick urge you have to release it all when you get back to the office.

-

you're hunched over the toilet, hair pulled back by your fist as you attempt to empty your stomach. something tells you to stop, you just can't do it. your body isn't allowing it.

in defeat, you flush the toilet. your legs are cold from the bathroom tiles, lines dented into your knees. you leave the stall, wiping the side your mouth with the back of your hand.

a figure startles you, your eyes widen at the intrusion.

"chan! shit, you scared me." you half laugh, walking to the sink to wash your hands. the man says nothing as he steps behind you. you look at him through the mirror, his eyes searching your body up and down.

"you know what i think?" he questions quietly, manoeuvring himself to stand behind you. his hands raise to your hips, resting gently on the curve.

the touch confuses you, your mind fuzzy from the retching. the feeling of his fingers running across your skin tingles, hands making their way just underneath your shirt.

"do you?" he asks again, chin resting on your shoulder. he's not too much taller than you, but enough to tower the slightest bit.

"no..." you say, voice slightly shaking.

"look." he says to you, nodding towards the mirror. "do you know how sexy you are?"

a red hue appears across your cheeks, ears tingling with embrassment. you go to move but chan holds you in place.

"hm?" he hums, pressing a small kiss on your neck. "tell me."

you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

"you wanna know else what i think?" he chuckles, hold on your firmer.

"yeah." you breathe, hot flushes running through your body.

"i think you look so fucking hot when you walk, your hips are mesmerising. especially in these black mini shorts. even now, your eyes puffy and red, you look so cute."

"chan, we're at work." you mumble, hands covering your mouth. you feel him move closer, hands snaking their way around your waist to press into the plush flesh.

"fuck everyone else." he says, kissing your neck once more.

before he leaves you in your daze he leans to your ear, speaking ever so softly. "the thought of my cock between your lush full thighs sits in my mind, my hands on your chest, lips on yours.. it's all i think about."

-

it's not as if you and chan hadn't talked about it. you were always against work relationships, saying it would eventually end in a mess. he had asked you out a few times, but every time, you had turned him down. it was mutual, of course, a few staff parties you had snuck off to make out, all giggles and kisses, drunken talks about how much you wanted each other. you put it down to just the alcohol and nothing else.

one thing you noticed was how chan had always commented on how nice you looked, how he loved the vine of your tattoos peeping out from your tees. he enjoyed the black and grey tartan pants you would wear a lot, fitting perfectly on your ass and hips. pants that sat on your smaller waist and larger hips were so hard to find. they're probably a bit over worn at this point.

when you think about it, maybe he was right. the worm of this fucked up beauty standard culture wriggling it's way in. actually, you knew he was right. this wasn't about chans validation to your body. it's about your own. it was about how you felt, not how someone else did. it didn't matter than chan loved your body. it mattered that you did.

this was ridiculous, the idea that you needed to fit into something smaller.

clothes are made to fit you, not to fit them.

-

the light of the morning sun through the clouds hits your eyes as you enter the office. it's nice, warm on your skin. today, you decided to wear a purple crop top, black shorts with buckles down the side showing off your swerves, your arms and beautifully designed tattoos on display, if you paid so much money for them, you should show them off.

when you sit at your desk, there's, of course, another box.

you pick up the note on top, it reads: do it for yourself♡

what chan had said yesterday; you can't help but love the validation of your body, you're human after all.

but, last night you hit a turning point. slightly ashamed of how you let yourself succumb to the beauty standards when you of all people were self aware and smart enough to know it's all about profit and control. it's not worth it, the consistent struggle. why on earth were you being hard on yourself when society already is? it's hard, living in a world where control is the norm. there is already so much pressure on you, on everything you do. you start to feel sorry for your co-workers, how stupid they must be to fall for it.

fuck everyone else.

it rings in your mind, chan's right.

fuck everyone else.

chan approaches his desk, hands on the back of his chair.

"i dunno who that came from." he says, pointing to the box. "gotta be a cutie though."

you let out a pretend shock, hand on your chest. "oh absolutely, and he cooks well. damn, a catch."

"oh yeah." chan says, tapping his mouth in thought. "seems like a good to date kinda person, very dateable."

"if only i could be persuaded to date someone at work, if only." you say as you lean back, sighing dramatically.

chan stands up straight, realising this is his moment. "should i quit? i'll quit."

you laugh, his expression is cute, eyes wide and brows raised higher than you've ever seen, he really wanted this. so you give in, allowing him to do a little dance of excitement when you say yes to the question he never asked.

"but!" you pause, "only if you make more tim tam cake."

he stands to attention, hand flat on his head like he's saluting. "will do."

the journey to self love isn't finite, nor is a linear. it doesn't matter that you slipped, it's okay to feel like that sometimes. but with chan by your side, you know it'll be easier.

-

a/n: sorry this took so long (as always) but at one point i'm sure we've all struggled with body issues. if this triggered you, please seek help or feel free to message me! i'm not a psychologist by any means but i do understand the struggle, helps to not feel so alone. remember that all beauty standards are built in structures to control people, especially afab women. so yah this is kind of a love letter to all my plus/fat/curvy babes, you're all so fucking HOT and ur tummys are a BLESSING, remember that pls <3

in the wise words of a'keria davenport: