#{ th ; spooked }

[eebie]

people who act like liking.or dare i say sympathizing with spot as a character is a moral failing

[swordmaid]

honestly my backstory for yves deviates so much from the snippets of backstory u get for durge that she should just be another tav but with like, serial killer urges lmfao

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere self aware Maegor—burn the book and escape to another country (requested)

Yandere Maegor became aware of your presence early on in his childhood. It was some time after his eighth name day. He had just stabbed to death a palfrey. The poor thing only lightly kicked him while spooked. Just then he heard a sort of gasp and turned his gaze to the sky. It felt like he was looking through a watery veil. He could see your face, your surroundings, and your fingers gripping onto what looked like a book of some sort. 

A stable boy came running towards him after hearing the pained screeches of the animal. In that moment the connection was broken as the watery veil disappeared and he was left staring upward with a new feeling sprouting within his soul. It was red hot and made his chest ache. He wanted you back to soothe the pain, but the damn stableboy took you away from him. 

The boy broke your connection.

So he slashed the stableboy's face in half and let him writhe in agony on the grassy field. That was Maegor's first taste of you. His first taste of exploring the darkest recesses of his desire, all thanks to you. He couldn't get enough, and he needed more. It is his right. 

Yandere Maegor was betrothed to Lady Ceryse Hightower and thought it was the perfect time to try to reconnect with you. Throughout the years, he has seen glimpses and even heard your name being spoken by someone else. That should have been him! This was his time to make you need him in every way, just as he needs you.

For many nights he treated himself to his newlywed spouse's body. He would have her covered in sweat and exhausted, and still he would go. He knew it pleased you to some extent. He always refused to look into his wife's eyes during this time because his head was trained upwards, staring at you. 

He always saw you during those times. That's why he was so insistent to constantly drag his wife to bed. It was like some gateway that was always open when he was inside of her.

Still, that bitch remained bare. Full of his seed, and she still couldn't produce any heirs. Worthless woman. He would scoff any time she tried to initiate. What gives her the right? She hasn't earned it.

Yandere Maegor was never one to stuff his head into books and frolick around like a pansy. That was the detestable lifestyle his half-brother Aenys lived. Still, his scarred hands found their way to dusty old scrolls that even the maesters forgot of. He learned of a strange phenomenon some Targaryens experienced. They had deemed it to be 'naejot ūndegon aōla' (to see yourself).

A certain awareness that very few had every scrapped the surface of. Dreamers were more likely to have such a revelation? ability? He couldn't find much information on it, considering the chance to study this anomaly was a rarity. 

He asked Aenys and he knew nothing. Typical.

Yandere Maegor dedicated his extra time to trying to reach out to you. He knew sex was one way to reach you. He really didn't want to touch a woman every time he wanted to interact with you. The both of you would never get any alone time. Not to mention the fact that it is quite hard to hear someone over long drawn-out moans. 

So he would meditate. He would lock himself in an isolated place for days just for a chance to see your visage once again.

He had minimal luck.

Yandere Maegor seemed to only marry women with cursed wombs. Bedding anyone was a way for him to see you, but bedding his wives had a ninety-percent success rate for being able to see you. Still, he needed an heir and was left without one. 

Was this a sign? He took it as one.

No one could change his mind on it.

You had been specially made for his seed. If you were unable to bare children due to your anatomy, he could—would find a way. You were meant for him. It was no wonder that no one else could satisfy him as you could.

You made him crazed without a touch. A feat no one but you achieved.

Yandere Maegor still felt as if you were the one after learning of his third wife's betrayal. She cursed his potential heirs! He doubts she could have cursed you. You are incredibly unique. Someone who is one of a kind.

So he uses his dead wife's book on sorcery and potions to interact with you bit by bit. He's astonished that he is in written text but is also thankful, as that is incredibly advantageous for him. He flips pages and changes the text. He dares to reach out to you through the pages and gently caress whatever part of you he is able to get ahold of. 

It's pure bliss for him, pure horror for you.

Yandere Maegor will find a way into your world. He will bring you into his. He will find a way to concoct a potion of vitality for you both. Although you seemingly do not age by much in his eyes. You are just as stunning as the first time he saw you. There's so much lost time to make up for.

[cottonlemonade]

Dating You For A Bet [Part 3]

word count: 2145 || avg. reading time: 9 mins.

pairing: University AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: like one time swearing

[part 1] [part 2]

As soon as the dorm room door closed behind you, your shoes were practically flung off your feet. With a deeply satisfied sigh you stretched and wiggled your toes, slowly feeling the numbness subside. You weren’t used to wearing heels but thought that a third date called for the occasion.

“How was it?”

Confused, you turned around as if your roommate could have possibly meant anyone else. She hardly ever spoke with you so this was absolutely a first.

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, computer on her lap, and brushed her headphones from one ear.

“The… date?”, you asked cautiously, standing frozen in front of the wardrobe like a deer caught in headlights.

The other girl nodded.

“It was… nice?”

“Just nice?”

“He was sweet.”

“That was your second one this week, right? Are you gonna keep seeing him?”

“I’m sorry. I’m still trying to figure out why you’re talking to me.”

She shrugged.

“Because I’m curious.” When you still didn’t say anything, she explained, “I’ve heard all over campus what happened, and… it sucks what your ex did. And I saw how sad you were about it but I’m also really impressed with how you’re handling it now. I guess I just wanna say that at first, I thought it was a really dumb rumor because you were both so obsessed with each other. It didn’t make any sense.”

That brought you out of your stupor. You turned to put your jacket back in the closet and tossed the shoes carelessly into the void somewhere to other disregarded things.

“Yeah.”, you said after a small pause.

“Do you think you’ll get back together?”

Now it was on you to shrug.

“Why d’you ask?”

Your roommate turned the laptop so you could see. It was a live feed of the current varsity volleyball match. Issei was just being switched out and the camera stayed on him as the coach kept talking very fast and gesturing towards the court in an unmistakably urgent manner. Issei simply bowed his head and nodded to his shoes, kneading the pads of his fingers against the water bottle like he always had done when he was anxious. The clip was only about five seconds long but it was obvious that when he turned around to look at the stands behind him he was searching for someone.

Your roommate moved the laptop back so that the screen was facing her again.

“He has been off all game.”

“Well… too bad.”, you said and grabbed your towel and shower caddy.

With three days left until Christmas, the first snow fell. After your tear-filled kiss with Issei at the bench two weeks ago he had left you alone. No more notes, no more loitering around waiting to talk to you and you wondered if this was really how it would be from now on. You figured that finding out you were dating someone else had spooked him into hiding. However, just as you were sure you would never speak another word with him you heard a commotion outside your door. Calls and hollerings were echoing through the hallway from the girls on your floor and you and your roommate both looked up from your essays to then exchange a questioning head tilt with each other. The large pizza carton between you was pushed aside and, brushing your greasy hands off on your washed-out sweats, you got up to see what was going on. When you opened the door you saw four guys hunched over with their heads ducked between their shoulders looking as uncomfortable as can be. Issei, meanwhile, was pushing a fifth down the corridor toward your room. You recognized them now. It had taken a few seconds without their usual sneers.

Your ex had them stand in a row in front of you and then all but one knelt down. Issei gave the last one a tap with his foot on the back of the knee to make him match the others. Heads hung low and hands resting on their thighs, one after the other bowed in deepest apology with their foreheads almost touching the linoleum. The middle one, whom you remembered as the idiot who suggested the bet, began to speak as Issei stood behind them all, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips.

“Y/n-san,”, the middle one said, “we’re very sorry for… for the whole thing.”

Issei cleared his throat. All the girls from the surrounding doors giggled and kept their phones focused on them to film while you were gaping like a fish.

“- for making the bet about you. It was terrible and immature and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. We ask for your forgiveness.” A general murmur of apologies went through the row of kneeling guys.

“Here.”, the middle one fished a crinkly envelope from his hoodie and held it up to you with both hands, “This is the money from the bet. Please accept it.”

“No, why would I want your money?”, you replied in disbelieving disgust.

“Okay.”, your roommate weighed in quietly and slipped past you, snatching the envelope, “I’ll be taking that.”

You frowned at her.

She raised her hands in defense. “Pride and integrity are great and all but we are still students at the end of the day. This will at least fund next month’s pizza parties. I’m just saying.” And she retreated behind you, adding, “Carry on.”

“Just leave me alone and don’t ever talk to or about me ever again. And the sooner you realize that you are nothing but pathetic worms that peaked in high school the sooner you can go to therapy which you obviously need.”

The boys seemed to wait for something, then Issei said, “You heard her. Fuck off.”

All five scrambled to their feet and pushed through the audience of sniggering girls to get away.

Incredulously, you looked at Issei who was very obviously very satisfied with himself.

“How did you even…?”

He chuckled and shrugged as the surrounding crowd slowly dispersed and went back into their rooms and about their days.

“You didn’t beat them up, did you?”

“Worse.”

He walked over to you and leaned casually against your doorframe.

“I called their moms.”

Your roommate snorted and went back to her essay.

There was a pause in which Issei realized that for the first time since the breakup, you didn’t regard him with the previous hurt or anger. His smirk faded into a small unsure smile and he switched between glancing at you and his hands, “You look pretty.”, he muttered, then pushed himself off the doorframe, “Have a good night.”

The clip of the five guys kneeling in front of your door (from varying angles) was all over the campus forum for days giving you finally a different sort of spotlight and leading your fellow students to turn their attention and energy to hackling the bet-makers rather than you. It was a welcome change of pace.

On Christmas morning then you were bundled up tightly in your coat and scarf and trudged through the freshly fallen snow on your way to the library where you would pretend to study while in all honesty, you would just be scrolling on your phone. All just to escape the omnipresent merriment. You had to walk past Issei’s dorm, something you had avoided doing for weeks and instead had taken the much longer route.

“Y/n!”, you heard a shout from overhead and when you looked up into the soft flurry of snow you spotted Issei waving from his window, “Wait there for a moment!”

Two flights of stairs later, Issei jogged through the lobby towards the glass front door to hold it open. “Could you come up for a second, please? - It’s nothing weird, I promise.”, he added when he saw your skeptically raised brow.

You followed him silently until you reached his door.

With a flourish, he opened his room and was met with a wall of smell from a whole bunch of different essential oils. He coughed and flitted into the room to open the window again, using a notepad to fan the air. The whole room was decorated with candles and garlands and even a small fake Christmas tree that obviously had needed a bit of persuasion to stand up straight on the bedside table.

“Sorry.”, he pressed out in between coughs, “I went around the whole building for candles but they all just had scented ones.” He kept feverishly fanning the icy cold air into the room, ignoring the thick snowflakes landing on and soaking through his pillow. A long dead plant in a pot on the windowsill caught the flame of a candle as he waved around the notepad and began to slowly burn to a crisp. “Oh!” He tossed the notepad onto the bed and grabbed the mostly empty can of an energy drink to pour over it.

“Anyways.”, Issei turned around as if nothing had happened and cleared his throat, “You once told me that you were kinda dreading Christmas because you couldn’t go see your family and I promised that I would spend Christmas with you and make it fun, so!” He jumped to his dresser and retrieved a red tin containing slightly burned, painstakingly decorated sugar cookies and handed them to you. Then he turned around and rummaged under his bed until he pulled out a Santa hat and reindeer antlers that he placed on top of the tin in your hands, “I also have your favorite Christmas movies -”, he waved toward his laptop, “you don’t have to watch them with me, of course, but they’re there if you like - and”, he picked up a note from his desk, “here is the list we made of all the Christmas activities that you wanted to do. We can go through them one by one.” You noticed how the paper shook slightly in his hand and how he swallowed a lump that seemingly had formed in his throat while awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Mistletoe is kinda inappropriate now but I guess you can… slap me instead if we’re both under it. But the snow is good for a snowball fight and to build a snowman and make snow angels and-“

“Issei!”, you said firmly to stop his ramblings, “This is really nice of you but I’m not in the mood to play in the snow right now.”

“Right… uhm.”, his eyes darted back to the paper in his hand for another idea, “We can go to the coffee shop for that holiday drink I told you about.”, he suggested excitedly instead.

“I… already went and tried it last week with my roommate.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was nice, yeah.”

“Good. Good.” After a short pause, he followed up with, “I’m glad.”

He then hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and put the list back on his desk.

You looked around the room - the leftover paper shreds next to the trash can from the cutout snowflakes, the wonky bow on top of the cookie tin, the over-laden Christmas tree. All the effort and genuine thought he had put into everything at the very least made you want to accept his peace offering.

“I wouldn’t mind having it again, though.”, you heard yourself mumble.

“Really? You sure?”

You shrugged.

“Alright, lemme grab my jacket.”

“You should put out the candles.”

“Right!”

“Alright, order placed.”, he announced when he sat down across from you, holding up the little buzzer that would let you know about your drinks.

“How have you been?”, he asked.

“Good. Better. I aced that exam I was so worried about.”

“Knew you had it in your pocket.”, Issei nodded and turned the buzzer nervously in his fingers.

“Let me just tell you that I know there is no excuse for what I did. But know that I am not done apologizing for it. You are everything to me and I am kicking myself every day for not realizing it the moment I saw you. You deserve nothing but the best and I’m glad you found someone who can make you happy.”

“Thank you.”, you allowed yourself to smile, “I appreciate that.”

“So… what’s he like?”, he asked, trying very hard to sound casual.

“Who?”

“Your new boyfriend. Do I know him?”

“Well uhm, he isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” His fingers turning the buzzer slowed ever so slightly.

“Yeah it just…”, you sighed and shrugged, “didn’t work out.”

You would under no circumstances ever tell him that it was because you had called him Issei while he kissed you. You would take that to the grave.

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

“You know this would be a whole lot more convincing if you weren’t grinning like an idiot.”, you smiled.

taglist: @samoankpoper21 @reikashe @jasminelee324

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[erwinsvow]

Orrr shy reader dying of embarrassment (but not really) when rafe has a jealousy fit

- 💓

you paw at your boyfriend's arm, trying to pull him away. your face is flushed with heat at the scene in front of you—rafe pushing some random boy at the party against the closest surface, slamming his head onto a table and holding him down. there’s a crowd forming, which makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry on the floor, because there’s nothing worse than crowds.

you stand corrected, because you’re realizing there is something worse—rafe getting angry at some stranger for talking to you and choking him out. 

it’s a little silly of you, to completely ignore what everyone had been telling you about rafe, but you had done it anyways. all the talk about his temper and aggression had been easily forgotten when he treated you so sweetly—attending to your every need, changing the way he talked to make sure he didn’t spook you into thinking he was upset, being incredibly understanding when you froze up or started crying. 

the rafe others talked about was exactly that—just for others, never for you.

“y’like botherin’ innocent girls? huh?” you squirm at the sight of the boy in pain as rafe presses his head down, bending his arm behind his back. the boy tries to stay something back, but all that comes out is tortured noises. “i should break your arm. that’ll be a lesson.”

it’s all too much for you—yes, the boy wouldn’t leave you alone while rafe went to get you a drink. yes, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not even i have a boyfriend, told to him while staring at your shoes. you still don’t think he deserves this, because he’s in a lot of pain, and your boyfriend is the one causing it.

“rafe, c’mon,” you plead again, pressing your hand to his back, trying to pull him away. your soft grip does nothing. “please, rafe, i wanna go, i don’t like this-” 

rafe loosens his grip on the stranger’s arm, letting it fall. he picks him up by the back of his shirt, pulling him to look at you. you take a step back automatically, getting frightened, but rafe nods at you to come closer. 

“s’your lucky day, asshole. my girl doesn’t like fights. tell ‘er sorry..” the boy mumbles something but rafe shakes him again, until the boy looks at you and sputters out an apology. he lets him fall back, and guides you away. you notice all the people staring, the boy probably staring daggers at rafe. you want to look back—go back and apologize yourself to everyone, even to the boy bothering you, like you’re used to doing—but rafe grips your waist tight and doesn’t even let you turn your head. 

back in his truck, you’re all shaky breaths and watery eyes. he thinks that would have made him mad once upon a time. not now.

“c’mon, stop cryin’. what’s wrong?” he sounds gentle, and you almost forget what he just did.

“y-you scared me. it was scary.”

“you got nothing to be scared of.” he doesn’t sound upset with you, but you still worry that he is, with the way your shoulders are still quivering. he knows you, knows how your little brain spins when you’re afraid he’s getting mad. “you’re my girl, i have to protect you, okay? that’s my job. just doing my job.” 

you look up at him with your wet eyes, holding eye contact for longer than you usually can, before looking back at your lap, playing with your hands.

“thank you. m’sorry, rafe.” rafe puts his hand on your chin and uses it to tilt your head up, until the two of you are looking at each other again.

“why’re you sayin’ sorry?” 

“because…if he hadn’t talked to me nothing would have happened. and i feel terrible. and your knuckles probably hurt, now.” he holds back a laugh as best as he can, but you still notice it. 

“none of that was your fault. stop apologizin’ for shit you didn’t do. my knuckles are fine.” he wipes a spilled tear away from your cheek. “m’not gonna let someone treat you like that. even if you don’t care. i fuckin’ care. got it?”

“got it,” you murmur back, looking up at him with big, hazy eyes. you don’t think you were ever upset at rafe, just upset that it was even happening. but now, in the comfort and safety of his truck, you take in the meaning of his words—how much he’d do for you, how much he cares, how you don’t have to feel bad about it. “can i come back home with you?”

“sure, kid. wanna watch a movie?”

“no, i wanna make it up to you.”

[ririblogsss]

Danny in central City pt2

part 1

Danny is chilling in the dorms rooftop again, when he feels a very powerful gust off wind. Looking to the side he finds impulse the local teen hero of Central City. Danny only nods his way and mutters that the stars look very pretty tonight. Impulse manages to hear him and looks up, but the night sky isn't visible because of all the light pollution. Super-eyesight he notes it down In his brain. Impulse asks for his name while he sits down besides him Danny responds meekly.

The silence is so loud even though there's cars and overall noise of the city. Their science is tense. Danny thinks that one wrong move and he'll get handed to the GIW for experimentation and extermination. Impulse is thinking of the best way to approach Danny without spooking him away.

In the end Danny decides to break the silence, as he's always hated awkward silences and feels the need to constantly talk in order to make it feel less tense."Did you know hot ice exists? yeah like about 33 light-years away is an exoplanet called Gliese 436 b. The planet is composed of different water elements, which form burning ice, so in essence there is a thing that is hot ice" Danny just continues to ramble all the facts he learn past midnight during high school. Hoping that impulse would just get tiered of him or get called back by whoever is behind the coms. But it doesn't happen Impulse lays next to him looking up at the sky listening to him ramble making humming noises and nods to show he is listening.

Danny doesn't know what to do he's running out of topics and facts fast and its not like he can just leave. So Danny does what anyone that's in the same type of situation does, he starts trauma dumping on accident. Well Dannys not sure its trauma dumping it has nothing to do with his half death or ghost or really anything after his 13 th birthday.

"You know my parents have a lab in our basement" Impulse chokes on air but Danny continues on "yeah its pretty cool when I was 4 I was allowed to go in and experiment with all the substances along as my older sister was there" Impulse face, or what Danny can see of it looks contorted in a grimace/sad look, so Danny immediately tries to back track."Wait wait that sounds like I was in danger, I wasn't I only made mustard gas twice before I learned all the components that made It and made sure to never mix them, and I only burned my hand 6 times with the surface mix lamp, and I got pretty good at using it. look see this" Danny holds out his wrist with an intricate bracelet made out of glass, it has green, blue and black accents on it swirling. "WAIT you made that, brUHHH that's amazing likeomgyoucouldsellthisiwouldbuythisitssocool......." Danny had to strain his ears in order to fully understand what impulse was saying as he went on a tangent about how cool the bracelet was.

"Here" Danny says holding out the bracelet, Impulse blanches and tries to refuse saying that he doesn't need it or whatever but Danny is stubborn he keeps holding out the bracelet unrelenting until impulse takes it and puts it on. "Consider it a gist from a fan and a thank you for sitting with me and listening to me ramble about space" Then Danny stands up stretching himself and starts heading towards the stair case. Leaving a dumbfounded impulse behind.

Danny hears a whisper of 'What the fuck' before he hears the distinct break of air that only comes from speedsters running off.

[svearehnn]

sunlight in burgundy | azriel x reader

Summary: Velaris is a place of healing, so no wonder you ended up at the House of Wind. However, you didn't expect to be welcomed by a gentle male and a leather-bound book.

a/n: i don't know what this is!!! just wanted to write and this came out. enjoy!!

Mahogany doors greeted your view, colossal and menacing, hiding anything and everything from your sight. With a deep breath and shaking hands you pushed the doors open. Sunlight greeted you, seeping in from rounded windows that seemed to take up the whole wall. They were open, their burgundy curtains fluttering in the wind. You took in the room with wide eyes, noting the shelves of books, the greenery hanging from the ceiling and winding around the furniture, the matching chairs that held a figure. A sharp breath entered your lungs as you noticed him, his hazel eyes already tracking you. 

“Hello,” he murmured, voice crackling like wood on a fire, his thin, leathery wings shifting ever so slightly as the word left him. You stood still like a deer in the eye of a hunter, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Of course, the first time you dared to leave your room since you were saved and you had to come across another soul.

“Um,” you stuttered, voice stuck within your throat. “Hi.” His lips curved up in a slight smile, thumb marking his page as he shut the book he was reading.

“How are you?” You took a miniscule step backward, your gaze never leaving his form, hackles on high alert. He wasn’t a threat, you knew that, yet your body reacted otherwise.

“Um,” fell from your lips once again. You blinked slowly, eyes darting down to the book in his hand before landing back upon his face. He followed your line of sight with a quirked brow and a gentle expression as he shifted in his seat, bringing his book up from his lap.

“Were you looking for one of these?” You nodded and swallowed the lump that had settled in your throat before taking a tentative step forward, despite your body screaming at you to run away. He became molasses as he stood, his movements smooth and still in an attempt not to spook you.

“What kind of book are you looking for?” One glance over your shoulder at the doors led you to the knowledge that they had shut behind you and that it would not be a quick escape, but for some reason, your frosted heart was starting to warm. You did want a book, after all. Maybe taking his advice wouldn’t be so bad.

“I just want a, uh, a book.” Your voice came out weaker than expected, a wince taking over your body at the softness you were displaying in front of this winged stranger. He didn’t comment on it, though. Rather, he nodded, and the shadows that seemed to surround him moved. A gasp fell from your lips without consequence, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you watched them disappear down the aisles of books. When you glanced back at him, he was still watching; observing you, looking for something, but you didn’t know what. 

“I control them.” He spoke, jolting you out of your bewilderment. “I am a Shadowsinger.” You hummed, no words slithered up your throat, just awe. You had never met a Shadowsinger before. To be fair, you had actually never met a winged fae before. There were a lot of firsts happening for you in this moment.

“W-what do they do?” You whispered after a beat, catching the shadows in the corner of your eye as they came back to their master with something in hand. He smiled softly, just a tilt of his lips as you’ve seen before, and he took the item from his shadows’ cool grasp.

“They tell me things. Intel, mostly. They also help with moments like this. Here.” He held out the item, and now with the sun shining down on his glove-clad hand, you could tell that he was holding a leather-bound book. “It’s one of my favorites.” You nodded, eyes flitting between him and his outstretched hand. 

There was still a decent amount of distance between the two of you–distance that you were afraid to make disappear. However, if you wanted that book and the safety of your room back, you would have to move forward. You took a step toward him, and then one more, heart rabbiting in your chest as you extended unfounded trust to this unknown male. He waited patiently, head bowed, but his eyes never left your face, as if he was physically unable to look away. With a quivering hand you reached out and swiftly snatched the book from his outstretched hand and cradled it to your chest. His eyes twinkled as he let his arm fall limply down by his side.

“Thank you.” You murmured, gaze downcast, picking apart the threads in the ornate carpet that adorned the rustic wooden flooring.

“You’re welcome.” He responded, his voice warm and comforting, drawing you back in. With your line of sight connected once again, his mouth opened and he uttered his name. “I’m Azriel. And you are?” 

As you took a step back, your name fell from your lips on an exhale, fingers tightening on the spine of the book almost painfully. With a nod of your head you turned and beelined it for the doors, opening one just a crack so you could slip through. The sunlight and the breeze of Velaris faded away as you hurried back to your room to begin reading your new find, however, the mysterious male seemed to occupy your mind more than the book that he had handed to you. Maybe that chance encounter was not chance at all, but rather fate that bubbled deep within the Cauldron alongside a whisper of your names.

[tojisth3rdwife]

Meg 2.0

syn: a member from the JJK universe makes a surprise appearance in your kitchen.

cw: crack, dad toji, moody teen megumi, just another day at the Fushiguro’s

a/n: cursed JJK AU where Toji survived the second fight against Gojo and went on to lead a semi normal life with his son and now you..No apple logo Toji here

*frantic screaming*

Toji and Megumi bump into eachother on their way to the kitchen, the source of the horrified screams. The teen was still wearing his headphones when he rushed into the hallway to meet his father coming out of the bathroom with shaving cream plastered over his jawline.

They exchange a look, nearly identical scowled brows furrowing briefly, both of them determined to get to you.

First to slide across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen doorway on socks was Toji, shirtless and bracing his hands against the frame.

“What happened?!! Whats wrong??!” He calls to his wife, shaving cream dripping from his chin. He immediately finds you hopped up on the counter, back against the upper cabinets and holding onto the the handles shakily. The look on your face suggests you were scared shitless, all color having drained from your warm complexion.

“What, baby?” He repeats his concern when you let out a whimper.

“th..that…” you tremble, eyes wide and brimming with tears as you pointed at something near the door leading to the garage, just out of Toji’s line of sight. Megumi soon joins him in the doorway, craning his neck to see over his dad’s buff ass arm.

“What is it?” He he exhales and you point emphatically towards the door again.

“THAT!! What the FUCK is THAT??” You yell, flinching and going rigid as whatever scared you was now on the move. Toji’s hackles spiked as he marched deeper into the kitchen, placing his body between you and the possible threat. But once he sees what all the commotion is over, he drops his fists with a resigned sigh.

What squirmed about lazily on your kitchen floor was a fat worm, its bulbous segments shaded a deep bruise like purple leading up to a large round head. On it’s face were two huge bug eyes with hooded lids that scanned the floor aimlessly, sniffing it and wheezing out if its thick pouted lips.

Summary: the ugliest fucking thing you’d ever seen.

“Eeughh Toji get it!! Get it pleasee….” You tapped his shoulder briskly, and kisses his teeth before looking back at you like you were crazy.

“Would you relax? He’s harmless.” He tsks.

“He??? That thing is a he???” You nearly gag on the question while you watched your husband step away from you.

“C’mere buddy.” He goes on to coax the worm towards him with his voice, patting his thigh and clicking his tongue softly.

The creature’s head lifts from the floor and slithers in Toji’s direction, sniffing the air curiously. When it reached him, Toji crouched down to rest his hand on it’s head to give it an affectionate pat.

From the kitchen doorway, Megumi makes a sound of disdain that has your eyes snapping towards him.

“Ugh..that thing. Thought it was dead..” he mutters.

“Well you thought wrong, brat.” Toji murmurs bitterly, still stroking the worms fat head with softened eyes.

“You thought the same thing! Its been years..” Megumi bristle’s back and you didn’t have it in you to allow them to get started in on each other. No one was saying what you needed to hear, dammit.

“Neither of you are explaining why theres a big ass, Rottweiler sized, purple people eater looking thing in my kitchen right now and I don’t like that!!” You whine and Megumi comes in to join you at the counter. His gaze fixes on the massive thing as it purred and nuzzled his father’s palm, grimacing sourly.

“Its just Dad’s stupid worm..” he sighs, tucking his hands in the pocket of his pants.

Your eyes widen at his callous response, it only breeding several more questions in your spooked out mind.

“Worm? W-why does he have a worm? Like as a pet?”

“To hold his stuff. Weapons and what not..” he shrugged casually. Your expression goes even more bleak.

“That makes even less sense Megumi..”

At the sound of that name, the worm lifts it’s head and gazes up at you, making a sort of cooing sound.

“Why is it looking at me like that?” You frown and Toji chuckles breathily, scratching under the worm’s chin and looking over his shoulder at you.

“Because you said his name.” He smirks, cutting his son a snarky side eye. Now less afraid than you were before, you allowed yourself to sit casually on the counter. You regarded Toji with bewilderment, your mouth fixed open in shock.

“You……You named that worm after your son?”

“Uh huh” he grunts nonchalantly. You look over at your peeved bonus child’s annoyed expression then back at his daddy.

“ Why Toji? Why..” you deadpan and you could tell Toji was trying to keep from laughing by the way his shoulders shook.

“Cuz at the time it was funny. I forget why though…” he shrugs, biting down in his smile.

“Because he’s literally a blessing AND a curse. Just like you, brat. Ha ha ha..” Megumi mocked what he recalled his father sounding like years ago, cringing at the tasteless irony of it all. Toji laughed at his son’s expense per usual, proceeding to baby talk to the worm in a way that had become too much for the moody teen to witness a second longer.

“Yeaah..Im going back to my room. Have fun..” he yawns as he turned away, replacing his headphones on his head on the way out of the kitchen.

Toji had picked the wiggly thing up and allowed it to wrap itself around his waist and drape over his shoulders like a boa. He turns around and steps closer to you, giving you a better look at it’s creepily humanlike face.

“Uh uhn Toji don’t..” you lean away and he chuckles at your disgust while petting the worm’s head.

“I just said he’s harmless, babe. Look..” he scratches under Megumi 2.0’s bumpy chin, causing it to purr and wheeze in delight. It would have been cute if it werent so damn ugly, but the way Toji handled it made you curious.

He told you much about his life of being an assassin prior to meeting you and all the horrid stories he shared sometimes gave you nightmares. But not once did he ever mention having a 5 foot long worm curse thing that apparently acted as a living breathing fanny pack.

When you’d first seen it huddled in the corner, coiled up in a cinnamon roll, you thought it was capable of all kinds of terrible shit. Watching it cuddle against Toji now lessened that notion.

“If you say so but…Why is it here? And in my kitchen..”

Toji’s lips curl downward in a shrug that his shoulder followed.

“Good question. Thought I’d lost him after that fight against that blue eyed freak. When I woke up at the hospital, Shiu said he wasn’t with me when they found me so I assumed he died or went somewhere to hide. But that was yeeeaaaarrs ago.”

While he spoke, you noted the lightness of his tone as if he’d been reunited with a long lost friend, and it hurt your heart a little.

You heard about that fight against Satoru Gojo and how close it pushed Toji towards death. It was a wonder that he survived at all, according to Shiu. You were grateful for that because it would have meant many things for you and the life you now had with him. The family you had now.

That was the fight that retired him from hunting sorcerers for money, now handling lower risk targets to pay the bills.

You could tell something about this worm brought back good memories or some level of fondness by the way he was handling it.

You let out a relenting sigh.

“How do you take care of it?” You ask and Toji shakes his head.

“He’s not high maintenance or anything like a dog or a cat. Pretty much does his own thing. Doesn’t need to eat or drink but he’ll take whatever you give him. I used to feed him a little bit of whatever I had and he’d be fine.”

“Does he poop? Is he potty trained?” You lift a brow. Toji grunts humorously at the question.

“Nah, he’s a curse, babe. Don’t have to worry about any of that..”

You watched Toji gush over the lumpy, drooly worm warily for a few more seconds before sighing again. You hopped down from the counter, being careful not to let any part of your body touch Megumi 2.0 when you pat Toji’s chest.

“Ok, well…go put him somewhere please. Somewhere away from me. We can figure out something for it..I mean him..later.”

Toji looked up at you like he was a child that was just told he was going to Disney World and you supposed his happiness was worth adopting a giant pet curse into your life.

“Sounds good to me. Thanks babe.” He grins, leaning forward to offer you his lips. Your eyes flit between Toji and the worm, which was now staring at you blankly, before giving your husband a quick peck.

Lord, what did you get yourself into?

[wolverinesleftclaw]

I LOWKEY, LOWKEY NEED sfw and nsfw alphabet for Wolverine?!!?!?! 😝😝😝 that man has me going INSANE

logan howlett sfw alphabet

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : reader uses she/her pronouns, size difference a/n : these are my own thoughts, i understand people may see them differently. i respect that but please don’t leave mean comments 💌

A ➝ Affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

⤷ you’re relationship with logan doesn’t start out as the most affectionate. it takes him awhile to get used to sharing his life with someone. even more so it knaws at the back of his mind how small and fragile you are compared to his large size, he’s almost too scared to break you. once you convince him you aren’t made of glass he opens up. he’s obsessed with touching you. always having his hand on some part of you body whether it be your lower back or stomach, he feels without your touch he isn’t grounded.

B ➝ Best Friend (what would they be like as a best friend?)

⤷ logan wouldn’t know how to handle having you as his friend. you’d talk to much and get little back from him. scared to hurt your feelings he would grunt and groan at any question you asked him. it’s not until you pull away from and start hanging around wade that he realizes how much he actually misses you talking his ear off with you excessive hand gestures.

C ➝ Cuddles (do they like to cuddle?)

⤷ at first he wasn’t really into it, but then one night you were watching a movie and you slipped your self into his arms and when he realized how perfect you fit he became obsessed. now whenever the two of you are just relaxing he picks you up and puts you right between his arms

D ➝ Domestic (do they want to settle down?)

⤷ at first the idea of settling down had scared him. you’d approached him with the idea after your friends had gotten engaged and it completely spooked him. he didn’t want to think to far into the future not really knowing whether he’d have one with all the danger in his life. but there was one night you were gathered around a table, your closest friends in suit with a birthday cake lit. the smile on your face was worth more than any lifetime he could live. lost in your face he realized just how truly and deeply he loved you and if he had to spend another two hundred years on this earth he’d do it wearing a ring that signifies that his heart will always belongs to you, long after your gone.

E ➝ Ending (if they had to break up with their partner how would they do it?)

⤷ (i cry) you’d never end things with logan, far too in love with him. he would however, only on the occasion that he was putting your life in danger by being with him. he’d break your heart and tell you it never meant anything because you hating him hurt less than knowing he left and you still loved him.

F ➝ Fiancé (how do they feel about marriage & commitment?)

⤷ he’s obsessed with the idea of giving you the life you deserve while simultaneously giving himself the life he deserves. there’s not a thing in the world he loves more than you.

G ➝ Gentle (how gentle are they? both physically and emotionally)

⤷ he’s extremely gentle with you, always treating you as if you were the most expensive thing in the world. he’s never dare to hurt you, often leaving the house when his anger became to much.

H ➝ Hugs (do they like hugs?)

⤷ oh yes he loves them, feeling your skin against his drives him insane.

I ➝ I love you (how fast do they say i love you)

⤷ it took him awhile, you definitely said it first. he knew the weight of what that word meant for the people he cared about. it meant you not knowing if the next mission would be his last or you being put in danger. it felt selfish of him to feel that way for you.

J ➝ Jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they get jealous)

⤷ oh boy does this man get jealous. donning you with his dog tags around your neck he easily stakes claim to you. while he knows you aren’t something to posses it’s an animal thing. to claim what’s your and mark your territory. he knew people couldn’t smell the way he could but making sure you always left the house with a hint of his scent always put a smile on his face.

K ➝ Kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

⤷ MESSY!!! he kisses you like your the last breath of air he’ll ever experience. filled with tongue and teeth he never fails to leave you breathless.

L ➝ Little ones (how are they around children)

⤷ he freezes. he’s scared of them, how small they are and fragile. he’d love to have them with you one day but only if he was guaranteed they would end up like him.

M ➝ Mornings (how are mornings spent)

⤷ usually lazy in bed cuddled up to you, his face in your neck just breathing in your scent.

N ➝ Nights (how are nights spent with them)

⤷ most nights are spent with you showing his old movies and teasing him on how old he is. making jokes that he can’t keep up with you which turns into him showing you how much he definitely can.

O ➝ Open (when would they start revealing themselves?)

⤷ for logan opening up to you meant showing you a side of him that he didn’t want you to see. painting this damaged and broken picture of himself and putting it on display for the most beautiful woman to see. it took him awhile and you were more than willing to wait. you loved him for who he was now, and you knew he wouldn’t be the person he is today without his past. you’d love that too.

P ➝ Patience (how easily angered are they)

⤷ logan is easily angered, while he’s usually not angry with you. you’ve seen his anger up close and personal but he’d never directed it towards you.

Q ➝ Quizzes (how much would they remember about you)

⤷ he’d remember everything. from every dream you’ve ever told him about to every beauty mark on your body. as if it was ingrained in his memory forever haunting his very being.

R ➝ Remember (what is their favorite memory)

⤷ his favorite memory is definitely the night you met, your shower had broke and you knocked on wades door at one am, he’d open the door to find you staring up at his through hopefully eyes.

S ➝ Security (how protective are they?)

⤷ let there be any threat to you and logan’s on it. whether it be the barista was rude when she handed your coffee or some guy catcalling you on the street. he’s eager to make you feel better and quick to let people know you don’t mess with what’s his.

T ➝ Try (how thoughtful are they?)

⤷ it took him awhile to figure out what you liked, whether flowers or extravagant gifts were your style. he remembers every day. the first year of your relationship was spent celebrating that day you met, your first kiss, and even the day he asked you to be his.

U ➝ Ugly (what are some bad habits)

⤷ he shuts down when things get too hard. when he feels you pulling away he gets a nervous and essentially makes it easier for you to leave. you having to often remind him that every argument doesn’t mean your going to leave.

V ➝ Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks)

⤷ he couldn’t care less how he looked always stunned by your beauty.

W ➝ Whole (would they feel incomplete without you)

⤷ if you ever left him he’d claw his own heart out of his chest. you are the only thing that keeps him going. after two hundred long years life was starting to get tiring, but you made living worth it.

X ➝ xtra (a random head cannon for them)

⤷ imagine you banging on wades door at one am, hair wet from the shower you started only for it to go cold. the door swings open and you see logan standing before you. creaking out a hello you ask for wade only for him to be asleep, you quickly enter the apartment reassuring the broody hot man that you’ll only be a minute. but of course you’d forget your towel.

Y ➝ Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like)

⤷ honestly he hates silence. after hearing you talk for years the second you silence yourself he knows somethings wrong.

Z ➝ Zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs)

⤷ logan usually can’t fall asleep without you, being riddled by nightmares. holding you tight to his chest he can finally sleep peacefully.

taglist : @caramelatae @rosewine-5 @rogueinmymind @scarlett-witchh @shiawaseorii @sephirothhh @sturnizd @magpiemayhem @chaoticweirdogeek @hearts4suri @k1t-k4ts @hettie1spam @rockytheluver @mysticpidge @ginamcflurry

[cressidagrey]

Dust off your Highest Hopes - Part 3 (The End)

Summary:

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, goes the idiom. 

When Solana hears an admission from the High Lord of Day, she’s ill-prepared for it. She doesn’t believe in fairytales any longer, but maybe there was a happily ever after for Solana and Helion somewhere.

Warnings:

Mention of Rape, Mention of Domestic Violence. It's all in the past, it's non graphic, but Solana is still dealing with it.

Notes:

This was supposed to be a one shot. One day I will find a way to be less wordy.

(thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the super pretty dividers!)

Solana would have preferred nearly everything over having this discussion right now. But Helion was there, kneeling in the straw next to her…one massive broad hand touching her gently. So gently, always so gently. 

He was intimately aware of the strength in his broad muscles and he had never even hurt her accidentally…had never laid a finger on her in anger, even if she probably had deserved it more than once. He was trying to calm her down, trying to make it better for her and she…

“I am sorry,” she managed to bring out before she sobbed again. 

Solana wished she wasn’t as broken as she was. She wished she could give him everything, give herself to him…she wished she could…she could love him, but she couldn’t. 

“Gods, Solana, you don’t need to apologise,” Helion whispered. “Tell me what happened.”His warm, massive hand drew circles over her back. “We’ll make it right. It’s us. We can make everything right.”

But could they make this right?

She tried to find the words, but they stuck in the back of her throat, her breathing coming in short gasps. She couldn’t find the words, she didn’t know how to make him understand. She didn’t want to hurt him. That was the last thing she wanted to do. But somehow it felt like she was a prisoner and regardless of what direction she turned, she would stay stuck and she would hurt him even when she didn’t want to hurt him. 

Helion made a soft noise, calming her like she was a spooking Pegasus. In any other situation, it may would have amused her. 

In this one…In this one, it only made her sob more. 

“It’s alright,” he soothed her. “Take your time. What’s wrong, sunshine?” He coaxed her, the pet name falling from his lips. 

She adored that stupid pet name. 

And so finally…finally she pressed her face tighter against Clodagh’s mane and whispered the words that she didn’t want to say. 

She couldn’t stomach to lie to him. She just couldn’t. 

“I heard you,” she forced out. “I eavesdropped, I shouldn’t have. I am so sorry,” the rest of her words poured out of her, even when she didn’t want to. 

She could feel Helion’s hand freeze on her back and she expected him to withdraw, but he didn’t. 

He inhaled, his breath shaky. ”Oh, sunshine,” Helion said, his voice soft. “I didn’t want you to hear that like that.”

So he had meant her. She had known it before, but to have his outright agreement to her face…another sob forced its way out of her throat. 

“Is that why you are crying?” Helion asked her, his voice weak. “Because you don’t…Because you think I would force you to…”

What?

“I will never force you to do anything, Solana,” Helion told her fiercely. “I will never expect anything of you. If you say you aren’t interested, then we’ll forget today ever happened. I will never mention it again if that’s what it takes.”

That hadn’t even crossed her mind. 

She had never even thought that Helion would force himself on her.

It was just…

“I…” she tried to find the words and she failed again. 

“Take your time. It’s alright,” Helion encouraged her softly. “Whatever you need, Sunshine,” he promised her. 

And then finally, she managed to look at him, managed to bring these words over her lips. 

“You deserve better than me,” Solana whispered. Because that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?

He deserved somebody who could love him. Somebody that could be with him in every way and not…not her. Not her, who knew that she was traumatised on a good day…that had near nightly nightmares that left her in cold sweat and vomiting…not her, that… who was terrified to even share the same bed as him. 

“What?” 

“I can’t…I can’t love anymore. I don’t know if I ever could. He took that from me and I can’t…” Her heart was fluttering in her chest as she admitted that. 

“Solana, you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met, but this is the most idiotic thing you have ever said,” Helion snapped. “I am supposed to believe that you can’t love anymore?” he asked her sharply, golden eyes mustering her. “Then what do you call what you feel for Elain? Or for Lucien? For this Court?!” Helion challenged her.  “What about Cyane? Gil? Xavi and Rupert? What about Zia?” Her friends…their friends. “Wouldn’t you do everything for them?” Of course, she would. That wasn’t even a question. 

“What about your mother and your brother?” Helion continued and she snorted, her crying shortly interrupted by that.  

“I don’t love them,” she told him weakly. Half the time she hated her mother for what she had done to her…what she had put her through…and her brother…the less was said about that, the better. 

Helion snorted. “Sure, that’s why you tried to get between me and your mother, even while your ankle was broken,” he pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “That’s why you begged me not to do anything permanent to her, even when it was her fault that your ankle was broken in the first place.”

It hadn’t been her mother’s fault. Well, not really…it had been her own fault. Khion had grabbed her and she had overreacted…and well, that ankle had been the victim of her trying to get away. 

Khion had believed that her mother’s agreement to marriage between the two of them had been the only one that had mattered….he had made that calculation without Helion. 

(She was still relieved that Helion hadn’t actually slit Khion’s throat for it…the political ramifications of that would have been a nightmare. Or her mother’s throat for that matter. Though the screaming could have been heard echoing through the whole of the Sunray Palace. It took an awfully long time for Helion to lose his temper, but once he did…once he did, it was like a volcano erupted.)

“That’s not…” she started, but Helion just fixed her with a glare 

“What about Meallan and Clodagh?” he shot back. “You want to tell me, you don’t love them either? What about their baby? Don’t tell me you don’t love the Baby Pegasus,” something like teasing entered his voice at these words. “You’ll break their heart.” 

Said Baby Pegasus took that moment to put his little black head onto her lap, demanding head scratches, just like like his father did. 

“It’s so adorable,” Solana said weakly, as she scratched under his forelock.

It was so damn adorable.

“I know…I know that Castor hurt you,” Helion said quietly, as he reached out to pet the Baby Pegasus with her, his hand covering her own. “And I am so fucking sorry that I didn’t put a stop to it years before. I don’t know every detail and I know that he took so much from you. But don’t you dare believe that he made you worse in any way, Solana.” 

She swallowed. 

“He was the monster. Not you. You were only his victim,” Helion promised her earnestly. “And I don’t ever want to hear you say anything like this again, Sunshine.”

It was her that pounced on him in response, that tucked herself against his chest and his arms came around her body as she cried against his chest. 

“I don’t know if I can be what you need,” she admitted weakly. 

Somehow that was easier when she didn’t need to look into his face. Helion didn’t hesitate to rub her back…press a kiss against her hair that she knew must look like an absolute bird’s nest. 

“You have been everything I needed, everything this court needed for decades, Solana,” Helion promised her. “Everything else…we can figure out everything else. I promise.” He pressed another kiss against her hair. "I love you," he whispered. "And you don't need to say it back. Not right now. Just know that...There is nobody I would rather trust as my wife and Lady.”

She froze at these words, leaning slightly back to look at him and he mustered her, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. 

 “Are you seriously proposing right now?” she whispered, her voice shaking. He couldn’t be serious. Right?!

But the grin that took over his face told her a different story.  “I did make you cry,” he said as he wiped her tears from her cheeks. “I think that means that I owe you an apology gift…I suppose I could find more pearls somewhere, though why should I if there is a ring waiting for you with your name on it?”

“So yes,” Helion agreed. “I do not wish for you to be my Mistress. I want you to be my wife and the lady of this court. The title that goes with all the work you have already been doing for years, with all the respect that goes along with it.” She swallowed at these words. 

She had never demanded a title for the work she did. That had never even crossed her mind. She wasn’t Helion’s second in command either. She was just…She was just Solana. 

“So marry me,” Helion said, golden eyes sparkling. 

“Helion,” she said weakly, her mind coming up empty with reasons why she should turn him down. 

“Marry me,” he repeated. “Marry me, and I’ll show you that you can love. That you haven’t lost that ability.”

A heady offer. 

“Turn me down because you are not interested. Turn me down because you don’t feel for me like this. But don’t turn me down because you think you aren’t good enough. That you can’t love me like you think I deserve,” he continued.  “Marry me and make me the luckiest male alive, Solana.”

She swallowed. 

She wanted to give in. She wanted to do nothing more than to give in to him at that moment. 

So what was stopping her? 

Could Solana be selfish enough to saddle him with a wife who maybe could never love him like he deserved? 

She could try. She could try and learn and hope and pray and...She could become who he saw her as. 

“I’ll need time,” Solana warned him hesitantly. “I…I need…I don’t know what…how much I can take," she begged him to understand, expecting him to pull back, but he didn't. 

“We’ll take it at your pace,” Helion responded immediately, a smile blooming on his face. “I can be patient for the things I really care about.” He could be. She didn’t doubt that for one minute. 

Solana nodded.  “Alright,” she agreed. 

Helion stared at her, hesitantly. 

“Alright?” he repeated carefully. 

“Yes,” she agreed, a smile stretching over her face. “I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife. I’ll be the Lady of this Court.”

Not an I love you. Not yet. Not when she was still unsure. 

But she trusted him and she adored him and she wanted to be his wife. Wanted to be the Lady of his Court. That counted for something, right? 

She was crushed against his chest in response, and her hands curled themselves in the shirt he wore, breathing in that scent of lemongrass and sandalwood that always clung to him. 

Meallan’s massive head came down to snort warm air against them, and she couldn’t help but laugh wetly at him, wiping away happy tears as she lifted a hand to pet him. 

“Finally got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Helion asked him with a laugh as she leaned her head against his shoulder and watched him pet Meallan as well. “Though you were the one who managed to surprise us all with your baby.”

Meallan whinnied, the sound happy and proud as he ducked his head to lick at his child, much to their amusement. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Helion wondered. 

“I have no clue,” she admitted weakly. “Meallan came to get me and then I had a crying fit…I didn’t check.”

A crying fit that was now leaving her utterly exhausted, as she curled up in that straw next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

A quick check later, they had their answer:  “We’ll need to figure out a name for you, sweet girl,” Helion said with a grin, patting her neck.

“Well…” Solana drew out hesitantly. 

“You already had a name?” Helion asked her, turning towards her, and she shrugged. 

“Well, Clodagh picked,” she said quickly, making Helion laugh. Clodagh had picked. After Solana had read name after name to the mare. 

“Of course, she did. What did she pick?” he asked her. 

“Niamh,” Solana answered with a smile. “It means freedom.”

“Niamh,” Helion repeated thoughtfully. “It’s perfect,” he agreed and she hummed her agreement, leaning against his side and watching as Niamh gained her feet on wobbly long legs, to drink some more milk. 

And Solana…Solana was suddenly exhausted, her eyes drooping, even as Helion pressed another kiss to the crown of her head. 

“You should rest,” he told her softly, but she shook her head. 

“I have a full diary today,” she protested weakly. Maybe if she drank some black tea…or she went and saw a healer for a pepper-up potion…maybe…

“Elain can pick out the new porcelain on her own,” Helion said drily. 

“Already replacing me?” she quipped and he snorted. 

“Sure, Solana,” he agreed. “If that makes you take a break, always. Everything else you were planning on doing today was correspondence, was it not? They can wait a day longer for your answer,” he promised her. “But you need to rest, sunshine,” he said as he gained his feet and before she could as much as protest, he had pulled her into his arms and winnowed, straight in front of her rooms. 

She glared at him, but he just ignored that as he opened the door to chivy her inside. 

“What am I even supposed to do?” Solana complained, swallowing back a yawn. 

“Take a nap. Rest. Read some. Pick out a dress to wear for Dinner,” Helion said easily.  

“High Lord!” Zia suddenly gasped and Solana looked up to find her handmaiden at the door of the bathing chamber, a towel falling to the floor that she had probably been stocking up. 

“Zia,” Solana said calmly, just as Helion leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his thumb gently smoothing over her cheek. 

“Rest. I’ll see you this evening,” he whispered, so quietly that only she could hear it. 

It made her shiver, as she watched him leave, closing the door behind him. 

“A bath, please,” she said weakly, as suddenly, the reality of her situation set in. 

She had said yes. She had agreed to marry Helion. She had agreed to be his wife. She had agreed to be the Lady of this Court. 

Somehow the latter was the one thing that worried her the least.  

Zia stared at her, still frozen in place. 

“Did he hurt you?” she asked Solana then, her voice flat. Zia had seen the evidence of nearly everything that Castor had done to her. Zia had snuck her Pain Relief Potions and had smeared Healing Salve over the worst injuries. 

“No, Zia,” Solana answered truthfully. 

Zia didn’t seem like she believed that, but still went and filled the bathtub and then helped Solana undress, mustering every inch of skin she bared, fully expecting new bruises to appear. 

“Helion would never do anything of that sort,” Solana said quietly. She was sure about it. She didn’t think Helion had it in him to ever raise his hand against her. He wouldn’t do anything of that sort. Not like Castor had done. 

No. 

With Helion…she was terrified of something else. Terrified of the fledgling feelings that she had, much different than the immediate, blinding besotted adoration she had felt for Castor thanks to the Mating Bond. 

With Helion…with Helion, her love for him had grown out of simple affection for him, his character and his personality. 

She knew him. 

None of his bed partners had ever taken any harm from his affections. 

So…maybe she wouldn’t either? Maybe it would be fine? 

He was willing to give her time. Willing to wait. 

That was more than she ever had before. 

She thought about it as Zia helped her into the bathtub and started washing her hair. 

“If he did…” Zia started quietly. “If he did, we would make sure he didn’t do it again.”

Solana had a sudden strike of affection for her handmaiden. 

“It warms my heart that you are thinking about committing treason for me, Zia, but I swear to you, Helion has not laid a single finger on me,” Solana said, with some affection. “We had a difficult conversation,” Solana admitted quietly, as she washed away the tear tracks on her cheek.  “These are just happy tears.”

“Happy tears,” Zia repeated as she started combing out Solana’s thick dark brown hair and she nodded.  Happy Tears. 

Very happy tears. “Has the new dress I had commissioned arrived yet?” Solana asked, mentally going through her wardrobe, trying to think of something suitable to wear to tonight’s dinner. She didn’t want to wear something she had already worn numerous times before…and she definitely was not going to wear anything blue, which was the colour of the house she had been born into. 

Yellow and Gold would be the obvious choice, of course, the colour of the house of Karim, of Helion’s family. 

But she would prefer something that was…new…without…

“The pink one with the gold embroidery around the waist?” Zia asked her and she nodded. “Yes, it has.”

The pink one would suit her well…it was sleeveless, made out of layers upon layers of gauzy fabrics in a rosy pink. Her waist would be cinched in by gold embroidery, which would also be picked up on the straps…maybe some dangly earrings... 

“I’ll wear it for dinner,” Solana decided as Zia started to wash out her hair. 

“Dinner,” Zia repeated. Granted it was a Friday, which would make today one of the more formal dinners in the Sunray Palace…not taken in private but in the dining hall, with staff and members of nobility that had places on the council. Still, that dress would still be considered over-dressed even for that. 

But…

“The High Lord has an announcement to make,” Solana said carefully and Zia’s motions stopped for a moment before she continued. 

“An announcement,” Zia repeated and Solana couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Will you repeat everything I say?” she asked her with some amusement and Zia wrapped her hair up in a towel, before meeting Solana’s gaze. 

“That kind of announcement?” Zia finally asked with a smile taking over her features and Solana’s blush was all the confirmation Zia needed. “Happy tears?” Zia confirmed once more and Solana nodded. 

“We aren’t finished with primping then,” her friend said with a grin. “I think the pink dress will do very well…There are some dahlias blooming, maybe some in your hair…”

She should have known that it would mean that Zia wouldn’t let her leave before every inch of her body was gleaming. Granted, she got to dose off, while Zia primped and plucked and massaged warm oil into her skin…until she smelled like roses and orange blossoms, and her hair was artfully arranged, fat dahlias tucked in around the twist that kept her hair up. 

Solana wasn’t even sure from where Zia got the gold shoes that matched her dress, as she tightened the laces of the bodice. Kohl lined Solana’s eyes, and gold shimmer dusted her skin. 

All in all, there had been balls she had attended into which she hadn’t put this much work. 

A knock at her door, just as they were finished pinning up her hair. 

“Come in!” she called, unsurprised when it was Helion.

“You can leave us, Zia,” Solana said quickly and her handmaiden shot her a wink before she left the room. 

“Did she stop thinking I would ravish you?” Helion asked with a bemused grin. “And left us along in a room, even though we are unmarried… Scandalous.”

“We’ll be scandalising this whole court anyway,” Solana said pointedly. “I do not think that us staying alone in a room will be any more shocking than what we will be doing soon.”

Even though it was her bedroom. And that Helion saying the word ravish was making the palms of her hand sweat. 

She stood and Helion held out a hand for her, which she took, linking their hands. “As always, you are correct,” he told her, drinking her in.  Even just that…just that simple touch of his hands in her was lighting something underneath her skin that she didn’t…that she couldn’t quite place. 

“You look beautiful,” he told her quietly, earnestly and she smiled at him, nearly not noticing the ring that he slid on her finger with ease. 

He lifted up her hand for her to look at the diamond that twinkled from her hand, surrounded by setting that made it look like a perfect, glittering mid-day sun. 

“A perfect fit,” Helion said, consideringly. “I did expect nothing else though,” he teased her, and she laughed, an unbelieving sound that escaped her throat at the feeling of this ring on her hand. 

Her old ring…it had felt like a shackle, so thick and heavy that it strangled her. This one was strangely light to wear…a beautiful ornament, nothing more or less. 

“Do you like it?” Helion asked her, nearly bashful and she smiled. 

“It’s beautiful,”  Solana promised him, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into her touch.

“I brought you more jewellery…if you wanted to wear it,” he told her quietly, pressing his lips against the palm of her hand. She nodded her agreement with a smile, trusting his taste in jewellery. Whenever there was a formal occasion she had to attend on his arm, he went down into the vault and picked something for her to wear. 

It had surprised her the first time. Nowadays, she was used to it. 

Though, he had never picked something like this for her…something like the dangly earrings with suns that she slipped through her lobes…like that heavy necklace nestled in velvet. 

“Will you put it on me?” she asked him and he inclined her head, as she turned her back towards him.

The necklace came to rest against her chest, a fat diamond resting in the hollow of her throat…yellow gold spikes falling down to rest against her clavicles. 

It was beautiful. 

Though she couldn’t help the shiver as Helion’s fingers brushed against the back of her neck and then the quiet snick as the necklace closed and he pulled his hands back. She didn’t want him to pull back. She didn’t…

His thumb brushed down her biceps over her elbow…she couldn’t help the shiver that worked down her body. 

“Helion,” she whispered, craning her head, to look at him. 

“May I?” he asked her quietly and she swallowed. 

“Yes.”

His mouth lowered to her.

Solana had thought she knew how it would feel. What to expect. 

But this…this was completely different. This was…This was everything. This was weak knees and fireworks, shivers and goosebumps and everything else. This was just the softest brush of lips against hers. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Just that. Soft and sweet and gentle and innocent and…

He pulled back from her and she couldn’t help but stare at Helion in wonder. 

One corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile. 

“Alright?” he asked quietly. 

She managed a nod. “Yes,”  she responded weakly. 

“Think you can live with being kissed like that every day?” Helion teased at her and Solana swallowed. Every day? Just this? 

“I…I think I can,” she agreed, making him smile. 

“Let’s go see Lucien and Elain before dinner,” Helion said easily and she grasped his arm as they left her room.

By the time, Elain had pounced on her in a fierce hug, her knees were at least no longer wobbling. “Congratulations!”  she gushed. “I am so glad it’s you!” Elain said brightly, catching her hand in both of hers. A second later, she did a double take. “Helion didn’t waste any time, did he?” she asked with a laugh as she spied the ring.  

“Why should I?” Helion gave back drily and Elain laughed as she let go of Solana, only to hand her off to Lucien. 

He hugged her too, less outwardly jubilant, but no less earnest. 

“I wish you two every happiness,” he said quietly, earnestly and she swallowed. To have him say that…even when he had every reason not to, with the history between his mother and Helion…it meant a lot to her. 

“Thank you, Lucien,” she said softly and he inclined his head.  

“There isn’t enough love in this world,” he told her seriously, and she couldn’t help but smile at that. 

“Ready to scandalise this whole court?” Helion asked her and her smile brightened into a grin.  

“Always,”  she promised him, taking his arm when he offered it to her. 

It wasn’t the first time she entered the Dining Hall on his arm…it wasn’t the first time he pulled out her chair for her and made sure that she was settled before sitting down on his own throne-like chair. 

It wasn’t even the first time he remained standing, waiting until the crowd quieted. 

And Solana surveyed the crowd, her eyes catching on her mother and her brother on one of the tables down the back of the room. 

Her eyes took in friends and acquaintances and foes…took in everybody that had seen the spectacle she had been once and had done nothing to help her. 

All of them would have something to say about their news. Some would be happy that Solana was chosen, others would be upset that it wasn’t their daughter who had snared the High Lord. She imagined others would be furious…

But as she leaned back into her chair, straight backed, her face betraying nothing…something inside her calmed. 

It didn’t matter what anybody thought. 

The only ones whose opinion really mattered already knew. 

She could feel Helion’s gaze on hers and she turned her head towards him, meeting his eye. A minute quirk of a brow, Are you sure?, and a brilliant smile of hers in response, Yes. 

He turned towards their Court. 

Their Court. 

“Two bits of news tonight,” Helion said, his voice effortlessly carrying through the cavernous space. “After 3000 years, Meallan and his mate, Clodagh, have gifted us with another foal. A filly named Niamh.”

Applause and cheers rang out, with Solana clapping politely as well. 

“Secondly,” Helion paused for a moment, dramatic as ever and Solana bit back her amusement. “Secondly. I have decided that it is time for me to take a wife.”

The hall was quiet enough that one could have heard a pin drop. Solana silently picked out the males who were already planning on offering up their granddaughter daughter or sister to Helion on a silver platter. The ones that would think that marrying off a female in their lives would give them access to the very top of the Day Court.  

“Has he gone insane?” she heard Rupert, Helion’s second in command, hiss, from somewhere to her right. 

“I have asked for Lady Solana’s hand in marriage and she made me the happiest male in this court when she accepted,” Helion’s voice rang out, even and true, for one moment freezing every single member of the court. Maybe she should have looked back down the hall and seen what her mother and brother would think about this, but Solana could not care less at that moment. The only thing she cared about was Helion, who held out his hand for her to take. 

She took it. 

“My future wife and the Lady of the Day Court!”

The reaction was immediate.

Cheering broke out from the servants' table, so loud that it drowned out anything else.

Solana felt the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes upon her, judging, questioning, and speculating.

The nobles were shocked. She had expected no less, so there were more smiles and applause than what she had counted on.

Some smiled, some smiles even earnest and believable. Some smiles were polite, clapping…hiding their distaste, offering their congratulations through gritted teeth. Others scowled openly, offended by the unexpected turn of events. Solana could practically hear the cogs turning in their minds, calculating the implications of this marriage on their own positions within the court.

But amid the chaos…Solana’s focus remained unwaveringly on Helion. On his hand in hers…warm and stead, a grounding presence amid the chaos around them.

As long as they were together…they could withstand anything. 

Solana had found her Happily Ever After, after all. 

[passionateseadruid]

yandere alastor being the reader's pet..the reader has alastor's soul, but the reader is a little afraid of the strange way in which alastor is acting.....

Yay! A request! Here you go!

“Here is your seafood gumbo, Buttercup!” Alastor smiled as he used his favorite pet name for you.

“Thank you, pet.” You took a spoonful of the gumbo into your mouth. “Mmm. Delicious as always pet. Good job.” 

He squeezed his arms. “Thank you, buttercup.”

You never knew if he was truly happy or not due to the smile that was permanently plastered on his face. You never really thought much of it though. “You are dismissed.” You didn’t want to be near him any more than you realistically had to be

“Of course, buttercup.” He bowed and left.

Your relationship with him was quite… complicated. 

—+—

See you used to be an old friend of Lilith’s. The two of you were inseparable at the start of hell (much to the chagrin of a certain short blond motherfucker). However, as time went on you started to drift apart. It had been over 2000 years since you last spoke to her when she sent you a small care package and letter. Inside the letter was Lilith requesting that you go over to her daughter's hotel and sabotage it (or at the very least stall their progress until she was able to find a way to discreetly sneak back into hell). Inside the box was alastor’s soul.

When you first got to the hotel everyone was a bit skeptical of you, other than Charlie. Vaggie didn’t trust you being basically a primordial being, Angel and Cherri liked to tease you but immediately backed off if they felt you were taking it poorly. Husker was apathetic and Niffty was aggressive towards you. And Lucifer was not happy to see you (at first). Alastor was a complicated story.

He was originally very cold to you at first. But that lasted for about a week before he started to kiss your ass, and hard. He probably figured that he could try to manipulate you into giving him his soul back. You obviously weren’t going to do that but he didn’t need to know that. After about 2 weeks he gave up upon realizing that you were going to ignore him as much as possible while you were here. 

You were sitting on the couch in the parlor. “Why are you here?” Alastor snuck up on you from behind, spooking you. He sounded really annoyed at you.

“Um… I’m here to help the hotel.” You scooted away from him. If he was mad at you, the best thing you could do was get out of there while you still could so that you wouldn’t have to use force. Despite the smile on his face you could tell he was upset. His muscles were tense, and he was hunched over trying to get in your space. “Uh… hey, could you maybe make me some crawfish etouffee? You’re an amazing chef! U-unless you had something else to do. You know, like your radio show.” You were tripping over your words trying to get him out of there.

Something changed on Alastor’s face in that moment. His eyes became saucers for a second before they narrowed and his lips twisted into a malicious, sadistic grin. “Of course… buttercup.” He cackled and melted into his shadow, his laugh echoing through the halls of the newly built hotel as he went. He left you shuddering and shrinking into yourself. 

—+—

But that was 4 months ago. Things have gotten a lot better for you since you first came to the hotel. Everyone was finally starting to trust you and dare I say even like you.

Some a bit too much for your liking (And for the liking of a certain deer).

You were getting closer with Charlie to complete your mission. Of course that also meant getting closer to Lucifer. At first he was jealous of all the attention Charlie was giving you, but he quickly switched up his attitude towards you when he realized that flirting with you would make The Radio Demon enraged.

Speaking of The Radio Demon and The King of Hell’s feud… after Alastor left you with your Gumbo that day he specifically went to seek out Lucifer. Alastor was going to have a little… chat with the big boss of Hell himself… whether they both wanted it or not.

He warped behind the short king. “Lucifer.” He was very annoyed. Lucifer had been flirting with you nonstop today. He even asked you for a kiss today.

Lucifer scoffed at Alastor. “What in blazes could you possibly want?”

Alastor’s eye twitched at the disrespect. “I want you to stop trying to steal my buttercup away from me. She is mine to have, and to hold, till an exorcist’s blade do us part.”

Lucifer laughs. “I wasn’t aware that she was your wife. The last time I asked her she told me that she owned your soul.”

Alastor silently walked over to Lucifer and shoved him against the wall. This only really worked because he had caught the king off guard. Never before had Alastor gotten physical with him. Alastor leant into Lucifer’s ear and whispered, “If you don’t stop, I will make Charlie give me her soul and order her to NEVER speak to you again…”

Lucifer gasped. “And pray tell, how would you accomplish that?”

Alastor chuckles. “Her and I made a deal. She still owes me a favor, and I will cash it in if I need to. Hm. Maybe once  I have her soul I’ll make her dress up in a short dress and parade around the pride ring in it.”

Lucifer grabbed Alastor by the neck. Lucifer’s voice was cold and low; there was a demonic filter dripping in his words. “Don’t you dare touch my daughter.”

“Then stay away from my wife.” Alastor choked out. Lucifer let him go with a nod. “Good doing business with you!” He turned around and walked back to your room. The sleep tranquilizer he put in the gumbo should have worked by now. 

He entered your room and saw you sleeping peacefully. He came over and layed next to you. He slung his arm over your waist and kissed your temple. “Goodnight, my love.”

[yiiyiiwrites]

🍁 | Autumn Equinox | Azriel

Summary: you’ve been mated to Azriel for over a year now, but it’s your first time celebrating the autumn equinox outside your home court. Azriel tries his best to make it a good one 2075words

Azriel x Autumn court reader

Also Have one for [Cassian] & [Eris] & Lucien coming soon

[Acotar masterlist]

The autumn equinox used to be your favourite celebration, now it just reminded you of everything you’d lost. A bitter sweet holiday you wasn't sure if you could do each year.

You may have gained your fated lover, your other half but you’d given up your home and family.

There wasn’t any other way, you knew that. The moment you’d stumbled upon the shadow singer in the golden forests of autumn was the final fraying thread snapping.

If you didn’t hurt Azriel by your own hands, Beron would make an example of you and use you in what ever way to break the bond. To snuff out any flickering ember that remained for your mate.

So you were as sly as a fox, crawling under the overgrown hedges of molten brown thorns keeping you in the court.

Your mother understood, she packed your things as sobs shook her whole body. Even now as you closed your eyes, you could smell the tendrils of her smokey caramelised scent and the undertones of cinnamon washing over you as if she were embracing you for the last time again.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You opened your eyes, dark wisp falling away from caressing your cheek. For a moment you imagined the touch of your mother's hand warming your cheek.

Azriel sighed as you sunk into his embrace, his presence more frequent the days leading to the equinox. You’d refused to hold him the first few days after you caught the mark on the calendar, afraid your touch would burn him.

Velaris offered a similar bout of weather that reminded you of home. The nights growing longer, colder and you were thankful there was still a little scrap of heritage you could clutch onto.

Your magic however seemed to be like a fizzling firework in the night court. Touch running hot and cold, that you didn’t stand close to your mate for months as you got used to the warmer seasons.

The restraint you’d built since your arrival dulled your flames. You no longer needed to apologise for scorching holes in Azriel’s sleeve or slapping the fiery embers from the fabric a bit too harshly as you tried to it stop marring his skin.

In the beginning he’d gifted you a pair of leather gloves, but that increased the distance between you both. You wondered why the gods had strung you two together in the beginning, everything you were, summoned painful memories for Azriel. The simple action of holding his hand reminded you why, why you needed to cage the flame to offer him a semblance of the same affection he gave to you.

"I have something for you," he said, nose tracing your jaw and pulling you out of your thoughts.

The cold crept in as he slipped away, the winter breeze pushing the stray strands of hair out out of your face. You breathed in, another wave of smokey scents and sweet aromas tipped with oak prickling the warmth beneath your fingertips. Turning around to meet your mate, you took a step back.

In his gloved hands laid a whicker hamper, tartan blanket sticking out of the box. You gasped, adding another step back. No wonder you could smell their scents. "You saw my mother?" Your voice trembled, hands diving into your coat pocket, fists clenching as you tried to expel the overpowering scents that even mingled with his shadows.

He nodded, ever the cool and controlled mate, never raising his voice or moving too fast as if he'd spook a fox in Autumn. "Yes, it's customary to exchange gifts," Azriel said, pulling the blanket out of the hamper and rolling it out on the ground, he stilled. "Isn't it?" His hazel eyes snapped up to yours, shadows freezing under the curve of his wings.

You couldn't fight the smile, nodding down at him kneeling beside the hamper. He patted the space opposite him and that damned tether tugged you closer. "Yes Az, exchanging gifts are customary but I did not get my family any." You didn't see the point, there was no way you'd be able to step in Autumn without dire consequences.

"That's fine, I did." He shrugged, laying a pumpkin pie in front of you, steam curling off the brown pastry.

A tradition in your family to gift handmade presents to each other during the autumn equinox. Your mothers famous, pumpkin pie, honey tea and spiced apples.

"You got gifts for my family?" You asked, scooting closer to Azriel who didn't offer you a glance, his attention on the contents in the hamper. "What did you get my father?" You leant forwards dipping your head and tried catching his gaze. "My father hates you and you gave him gift?"

"I got him a hunting knife." He said it like it was the most logical thing, as if your father would not be thinking of gutting him with it. His shadows seemed to follow your line of thought, a dark wisp pushing you back to sit.

"Is that why you met with my mother instead?" You laughed, even though you wanted to cry at the thought of your mate stepping into autumn for a spec of your happiness and his own demise.

Azriel finally let his gaze fall on you, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Always searching you before he decided what words to choose. "You're mother actually requested for me." His ears tinged a darker shade, hand scratching the back of his neck.

It was odd to think of your mother with him, you knew she'd be gentle and careful in her approach. Something you thought Azriel didn't receive much of in way of interaction. You also wondered what she thought of your mate, hoping she didn't worry and didn't judge alone from his stony features.

The grey cable knit sweater (the one you'd knit him last year) hugged his muscular arms, bicep flexing at his movement that you forget for a second what he said. A wave of your mother's scent hit you like a whip and brought you back.

"How the Gods does my mother manage to request your presence?"

"Well, she knows a lady in winter, that knows a lady in day and knows..." he trailed off the sentence, stumbling over his words trying to grasp the order of whatever your mother had told him. Trust your mother to use her network of gossips to send word to Velaris in order to find your mate.

"And how many ladies do you know?"

"Many," he smirked leaning in to you, "the only lady that matters is you though." His lips pressed against yours, warmth spreading through your chest as his hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer.

You smirked, storing away the memory so that you could show Feyre later and make your mate sweat about his duties to a high lady that didn't matter.

"Smooth, I bet my mother saw right through you." You said, tracing your swollen lips. You leant across Azriel's lap and plucked a ruby red apple from the hamper, teeth sinking into the shiny skin.

"Your mother probably thinks we're an equal match. How many guards did you court till you made it to me?" His lip twitched, fingers pinching your thigh for another swift attack. You swatted him way, squealing as his shadows skimmed the small slip of skin where your top had rode up over your hip.

It were true, you'd worked your way through nearly every division of the autumn army in the hopes of finding someone who wasn't just focused on following the high lords every word. What else were you supposed to do for five hundred years?

"I'd be quiet if I were you, recon I could get a rank higher than you back in autumn.” You swatted the curling wisps out of your face, sending them hissing back to their master.

"I doubt your mother would approve."

You didn’t argue with him on that, knowing that your mother was never fond of any suitor you’d brought home before.

“I take it these are from them?” You asked, lifting a small wooden box out of the hamper. A yellowing envelope stuck to the lid and sealed with red wax. You ripped the letter and scanned over your mother’s cursive writing.

The usual sentimental words she’d say to you around the table whilst you thanked the gods of harvest for giving you all good things and planting new seeds of regrowth and learning. At the very bottom below her signature however was a blurred splotchy mess, as if she’d written it last minute and folded the paper.

I hope this equinox brings you many blessings and offers you new fields to plant your own seeds. May you nurture the connection between you and your fated. My daughter you’ve been blessed, as have I now that I know you will be loved and safe.

Azriel peered over your shoulder, “I think she likes me,” he said, cutting a second piece of pumpkin pie and shoving it in his mouth.

“Just thank the stars you didn’t meet my father.” Now that you were banished from autumn, you doubted that you’d see him again. Too proud of his home to step out of tradition.

He hummed in agreement, pouring a cup of honey tea and setting it down in front of you. The view from the house of wind's balcony was your favourite, always bringing a smile to your face and reminding you that you could find beauty in any court. You did miss Autumn, but Velaris had grown on you, the constant stars blinking in the inky sky each night.

A small fire flickered in a homemade pit, copper bowl keeping it contained. Peeling the overlapping cloth, you traced the knitted mittens. Charcoal grey yarn that looked like liquid mercury woven together with softer orange, the two colours a symbol of your union with Azriel. Picking them up from the box, you slipped them into your pocket, freezing as something dropped out of one the mittens. A dark wisp dove out from its owner and caught the small object.

The shadows held it up and twisted it in front you, a fox figurine carved from wood and painted orange and beige. Tiny brushstrokes imitating fur, looking oddly like the fox you had as a child. A gift from your younger sister, you'd left your other figurines back in Autumn and hated yourself for it ever since. Least you had one now.

Azriel was silent as ever, watching you intently.

"My mother didn't give you anything? I mean I know I am gift enough Az," you said, laughing as he bumped his shoulder to yours.

His head dipped, Shadows concealing his face. "She did, wouldn't let me leave till I finished a pumpkin pie she made. Your sister made me a little fox of my own." Thats when you noticed the tiny wood carved fox pendent on a thin string around his neck, dark ink peeking out underneath it.

"Oh god's Az, don't let your enemies hear you say that. If that's all it takes." And by the looks of it, he'd enjoyed it so much, he was half way through the pumpkin pie from the hamper.

Cool metal met your fingertips as you lifted the cloth again, your reflection staring back at you in the silver blade. "I take it this gift is for both of us," you joked, Azriel picked it up and turned the hilt in his hand. A red stone embedded in the pommel, a scripture you couldn't quite make out on the hilt.

"Hunting knife, a few centuries old," he said glancing at your furrowed brows. "Look the hilts worn, the leather binding it, is coming away. Blade needs sharpening too, must have been in your family for a long time." He passed the knife back, blade pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.

You wrapped it back in the cloth, sandwiching it between the thick layers. "No idea why he'd give me that old thing," you mumbled, slamming the box shut. You were never one to use a knife, more inclined to using your magic and merging it with autumn's fighting techniques.

"No idea, just don't gut me with it in my sleep."

"Never," you gasped. "Just remember good behaviour or its a blunt blade my dear."

Since its nearly autumn equinox I wanted to do some prompts for it :) there's other characters to come - Yiiyii

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 1

Eddie doesn’t even know why he’s at this stupid party. It’s full of jocks showboating for their girlfriends, their girlfriends clustering together and giggling like watching Tommy Hagan do a keg stand is somehow dreamy. He’d had an entire beer spilled on his shoes, been heckled out of the kitchen and into the backyard, and left to brood out by Harrington’s ostentatious, heated in-ground pool. And it’s barely been an hour.

Within that hour, he’s made enough money to buy two month’s worth of cigarettes. That’s the rub of it all, isn’t it? Counting his time with packs of cigarettes, and bald tires that need replacing. And stupid things like food for their barren fridge and heat in the trailer once fall fully bleeds into winter. Wayne can only do so much, with rolling blackouts hitting the plant, and rent increasing a little more every year.

So Eddie goes to parties full of people he hates, lunch box secured to his person with the chain at his hip, switchblade stuffed in his back pocket. Just in case.  

This party is only ramping up, people trickling out from the overstuffed house to loiter on the back porch, occasionally stopping by to procure his services. As the first hour dwindles into the second, Eddie’s supply is getting dangerously low. 

He’s just considering leaving when he notices the King himself trailing after two girls he vaguely recognizes as the two that have been haunting the edges of the jock table the past few weeks. 

The brunette is scowling, hand wrapped tightly enough around her redheaded friend’s wrist to make the skin turn unnaturally white as she yanks her along none too gently, her short legs making ferocious strides that have both her captive friend and Harrington stumbling to keep up. 

Harrington’s got his hands up like he’s placating a spooked horse, talking too quietly for Eddie to hear over the pounding beat of the music. The girl isn’t spooked though. Despite being the shortest of the group, she looks like a predator on the hunt, just waiting for a slip up to make her kill. 

Whatever Harrington is saying must not go well. The brunette shoves her friend behind her, stabbing her finger into his chest, voice rising in rage. “–know he meant it, Steve!” she yells, flatting her palm to push him back harshly. She spins on her heel, continuing her trek past Eddie’s spot by the pool and out toward the open gate to the driveway. “As long as he’s here, we’re not going to be!”

“Don’t be like that Nance,” Harrington placates, following in her wake. “Tommy’s just drunk.”

“I don’t care about Tommy!” Nancy snaps. “I care that you’re friends with such a despicable person.”

“Nance–”

“I thought you were better than this, Steve Harrington,” she says. 

Then they’re both through the gate and gone. Harrington doesn’t follow. He stands there, staring where the girls had been, back to Eddie. He’s still as a statue for a long, endless minute before growling, low and angry, pulling his fist back and punching the side of his house. 

The hit makes a meaty squelching sound of breakable skin striking an immovable object and parting under its pressure. It almost echoes through the yard in the silence between songs, the whispering from all the onlookers starting up just before the next top forty song begins blaring.

Harrington spins, glaring out at the clustered people on the porch, hands on his hips, blood dripping down onto the green of his sweater, the light blue of his jeans. It’s a little thrilling to see the King bloody, even at his own hands. Like a true royal, he snaps, “go inside,” voice demanding obedience. And they do obey, scuttling back into the house in small clusters, shutting the sliding glass door behind the last of them.

Harrington sighs, shoulders drooping as he lifts his injured hand up to look down at it. He still hasn’t noticed Eddie in his spot by the pool.

“Trouble in the kingdom, your majesty?” he asks, jumping up from his cross-legged position on the pavement to saunter up to the other boy. He leans into his space, smiling coyly as Harrington leans back like he carries an airborne disease. “Anything this lowly court jester can do to help?”

He looks shocked at Eddie’s presence, like he never even considered that his decree wouldn’t be obediently followed by everyone in his backyard. 

Eddie smirks, fishing in the pocket of his jean vest for his cigarettes. He taps one out, and holds it out–ever the consummate servant–to Harrington, who curls his lips up in disgust and takes a step back away from him. Eddie shrugs, stuffs the pack back into his pocket and fishes his lighter out of his jeans. 

“Munson?” Harrington asks, squinting like he’s never seen Eddie before, despite living in the same janky town, and going to the same schools for the past five years. “Who invited you?”

Eddie takes his time lighting his cigarette and taking a drag, marveling as the little divot between Harrington’s eyebrows grows deeper with every passing second. He holds the smoke in, feeling it settle his nerves as he stares daringly into Harrington’s eyes. He doesn’t look away as he exhales, smoke blowing into Harringotn’s face. He doesn’t cough, just gestures his hand in front of his face impatiently to clear the smoke, looking one more insolent move away from smacking Eddie in the face.

“Someone has to sell party favors to Hawkins’ elite,” Eddie replies, shaking the lunchbox where it’s resting just below his hip. 

Steve scoffs. “Well, the party’s just about over so why don’t you fuck off, man.”

He gestures behind him to the open gate. Eddie takes another drag, ashing his cigarette on the pristine concrete below him. Harrington balls up his fists before immediately releasing the tension with a wince, shaking out his injured hand.

“Looks like it’s in full swing to me.” Eddie gestures to the sliding glass door back into the dining room. The curtains are closed now, but Eddie can see the darkened silhouettes moving to the beat still pumping through the house.

“I’m kicking them out.”

Harrington crosses his arms, seemingly once again forgetting about the bloody state of his hand. He’s almost pouting now. Eddie has the insane urge to boop him on the nose. He takes another drag.

“Upset your little girlfriend wouldn’t put out?” he asks, jutting his bottom lip out, trailing a fake tear down his own cheek with his free hand. “Poor little rich boy.”

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” 

“Me?” Eddie asks, dropping the burning filter of his cigarette to the ground and using the heel of his boot to smear it into the pavement. “I’m dandy. Who wouldn’t want the undivided attention of the King?”

He smiles then, condescending and bright, planting his feet as Harrington’s gaze darkens further.

“I always knew you were a freak,” Harrington snarls, drawing out the F sound like he’d rather use a different word that begins with the letter F.

“And a startling comeback from the King!” Eddie calls, showboating like he’s DMing for Hellfire in the dingy drama room. “How many F words did your Daddy teach you?”

Eddie didn’t realize that Harrington wasn’t angry before until all the light leaves his eyes. They go blank, soulless, like there’s no real person behind them. He uncrosses his arms, fists once again clenched, not even seeming to realize that it further splits his knuckles as he takes a threatening step forward. It’s a little scary, the way one question seems to have flipped him into an entirely different person.

Note to self, do not mention the absentee Father. Eddie takes a step back on reflex as Harrington uses his bloody finger to jab into his chest, hard enough to sting. Eddie looks down as blood smears, idly grateful that he’s wearing black. 

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Harrington spits.

Eddie, having never learned to bite his tongue, opens his mouth to crow about this new F word in Harrington’s repertoire, when he hears a sound behind him. 

It sounds almost like the foxes that sometimes chitter in the woods surrounding the trailer park. But there’s something wrong with it. It’s high pitched and cutting in and out, like a record skipping again and again. It’s staticy, reverberating behind him like the static of the television between channels but worse. A recording of television static sped up too fast and fed through three long distance phone calls. 

Eddie’s hands tremble, something animalistic coursing through him at the sound–fight or flight kicking in with only one option left. In front of him, Harrington’s gone quiet, eyes wide and unblinking as he looks fixedly past Eddie’s left shoulder. 

Then, abruptly, the sound cuts out, replaced with a guttural growling so deep he can feel it pulsing through his muscles, urging him to run. It unsticks his feet, but before he can dart through the open gate, or maybe to the shut sliding glass door to hunker down with the other party-goers, Harrington shoves him backward. Hard.

He loses his feet, loses his breath, until he’s choking on chlorinated water. He comes out of the water spluttering, coughing up water until it burns, his layers of clothing doing their best to drag him down into the bottom of the pool to drown. 

His eyes are closed against their stinging, ears clogged with water where he’s struggling to tread in the deep end of Harrington’s stupid heated pool that the King himself just shoved him in.

It’s a low enough moment that Eddie can feel his mind covering up the impossibilities of the night, paving over the impossibilities to rewrite the story to make sense: King Steve saw him, set up some speakers to spook him, and then shoved him in the pool. Nothing unexpected there.

But then Eddie opens his eyes. 

Harrington’s on the ground. Harrington’s on the ground fighting against the grip around his wrist, pulling him toward the water Eddie’s struggling to stay afloat in. 

It’s not a person dragging him, not a practical joker wearing a suit. It can’t be. The thing is standing upright, sure, but it’s too tall, too thin, too featureless. Its forearms are uncannily long, fingers twisting and look as if they have too many joints facing the wrong directions where they curl around Harrington’s wrist, claws sharp enough to make him bleed. Its ribs are showing. And there’s no face at all, just creased flesh puckered together where a mouth ought to be.

At least, that’s what Eddie thinks until Harrington struggles harder, fingers of his free hand digging into the crack in the pavement, momentarily stalling their forward momentum. Then, the seams where its head connects open, like a flower toward the sun, if each petal was fleshy and covered in dozens of sharp looking teeth. And it screeches, ear-splitting and horrible, as if reprimanding Harrington for not laying imobile like a good little live meal.

It tosses Harington into the pool. He hits with a splash, immediately flailing out, smacking Eddie on the side of his face. Eddie reaches out on instinct to pull the guy toward him, trying to keep the both of them above the water line while Harrington reorients himself. 

It shouldn’t have taken long. Harrington is the captain of the swim team. He should have been able to kick his feet under him and been off to the other end of the pool within seconds. 

It wasn’t fast enough.

Eddie doesn’t even see it move, it’s so fast. He’s holding onto Harrington, arm slung around the other guy’s waist, clutching tightly at the front of his sweater. Then, Harrington’s being pulled forcefully to the bottom of the pool, Eddie along with him. 

All of his orifices are burning from the chlorine–throat, nose, eyes, ears. He feels blind, deaf, lost, anchorless, except for the feel of Harrington’s skin beneath his hand, so he clutches, hooks his hand through the guy’s belt to keep his hold.

There’s a sensation, like meat parting around him. Then he’s breathing, sucking in oxygen, eyes still closed, head spinning. Harrington’s ribs are rising and falling rapidly. It lasts only a moment, the pair of them breathing and touching and panicking in tandem.

Until there’s that sound. Foxes chittering strangely, but it’s echoing now, weirdly like they’re in a cave forty feet underground. 

Eddie opens his eyes. The sky looks wrong–darker than it should be, and it almost looks like it’s snowing. One of the flakes hits Eddie in the cheek and he rubs at the spot, feeling it flake apart and smear across his face. Not snow. Dust? Ash?

They’re in some sort of pit made of concrete, cracked under the force of the sickly vines crawling across its surface. It’s deep enough that Eddie’s not sure how they’re going to get out. 

It’s not until he sees the ladder at the edge of the hole that he realizes where they are: impossibly, in the bottom of Harrington’s pool, somehow drained of water and decayed and made wrong, in a matter of seconds. 

The chittering turns to a growl. Harrington jumps up. Eddie’s hand, where it’s still tucked into his belt, jerks violently up with him, pinky getting stuck between belt and pants as he hastily tries to extract it. Harrington darts away, and Eddie’s pinky pops. It’s barely audible beyond the growling, but he feels it as a release of pressure and then sharp pain.

Eddie looks down at his now free hand. There’s chaffing on his palms, and his pinky sits at an awkward angle, already swelling around the knuckle where it connects to his hand. 

Nausea rolls through him–shock, maybe–at the sight. More than the pain, it looks like another wrong thing in a long line of wrongness that makes up his night, this time, attached to his own body. He heaves, water spilling out of his mouth, burning with chlorine as Eddie forces his eyes away from his hand.

Harrington’s across the pool, holding some sort of pole with a torn net at one end, thrusting it into the creature’s mouth, farther and farther. But the metal’s warping, almost decaying under the saliva in the thing's face, pole becoming shorter and shorter until It’s almost upon Harrington.

Without thought, Eddie jumps to his feet, stumbling behind the thing and bashing his lunchbox into its head. 

It’s probably the surprise of the hit that makes the thing stumble. Harrington wastes no time, jabbing the rest of his pole, fast and deep into its maw. It wails, the strike fast enough to get through whatever was melting the metal, piercing something deep inside the thing.

Eddie’s not stupid enough to think it’ll stay down. He skirts around the thing, latching onto Harrington’s wrist and pulling him along in his wake. He doesn’t hear the pole clatter to the cement of the bottom of the pool, hoping that means they have a little more time, doesn’t dare turn around to look as Eddie drops Harrington’s wrist to climb, hand over aching hand, up the ladder and out of the pool. 

Nothing looks better once he’s topside. The sky is still wrong, filled with ash and discolored light. There’s vines up here, too. And it’s quiet, so quiet he can hear every sound Harrington makes as he scrambles up the ladder behind him. 

Eddie doesn’t wait for him. He runs, fast as he can to the sliding door to the house, wrenching it open and falling past the curtain into the house. He hopes, hysterically, that no one sees him making such a fool of himself, hopes somewhere deeper that someone does and will put themselves between his fleshy body and whatever comes through the door behind him.

But no one’s there. Harrington’s kitchen is dark, the living room past it dark as well, a disturbing red glowing faintly through closed curtains like he’s landing himself in a scene straight from Evil Dead. There’s no shadows of partygoers moving, no top forty, no drunk teenagers to spill beer on his shoes.

He stands, frozen, something horrific building in his throat, like a scream or a sob as he stares, unmoving, curtains moving against the small of his back until something slams through them, pushing him to the cold linoleum. 

He pictures teeth, swears he hears a growl, but when he twists wildly from his prone position to scoot backwards on his ass, arms preemptively raised, he sees Harrington sliding the door closed and clicking the shitty plastic lock into place. 

It's hilarious, like the thing they’d both seen back there would be stopped by a little piece of plastic, or doors, or the safety of his house. Eddie bites back a laugh that’s fighting its way up his throat like chlorine, burning and not where it’s supposed to be.

Harrington’s back is shaking with the force of his pants as he yanks the curtains closed. He pivots, face devoid of anything as he bends down and yanks Eddie up by his wrist hard enough to sting.

“Harrington, the people–” he starts, but his wrist is yanked harder as he’s led up carpeted stairs and into a bedroom.

Eddie gets only a sense of plaid and emptiness before he’s being shoved into a closet, Harrington stumbling in behind him and closing the doors quietly and squatting down next to where Eddie had fallen. The outside of their thighs are pressed together. Something hysterical bubbles up his throat again at the irony of the moment. He bites his lip against it.

Harrington’s feet are beneath him, ready to jump and fight anything that might follow them up here. Eddie can’t seem to get his ass on the floor, the lethargy of shock making him complacent, the knowledge that he’d never stand a chance if that thing makes it into the house making the effort of vigilance not seem worth it.

Harrington looks fierce, like he really is in a scary movie, an action hero, the final girl, the one who’ll get to the end of the movie by any means necessary. But Eddie can feel his body shaking where their legs are pressed together. Eddie gets the insane urge to hold his hand.

It feels like hours pass like this, Harrington at the ready, Eddie succumbing to his sleepy shock, before Harrington slowly lowers himself to sit on the ground beside Eddie, knee overlapping his as he sits crisscross, still looking at the door.

“Harrington, what–” 

“I don’t know, Munson.” His voice is a sharp whisper, biting in its carelessness. He doesn’t even look away from the closet door.

“Your house is just empty, man.”

That gets him a scoff and a loosening roll of his shoulders as Harrington finally turns his head to the side and meets his eyes. Eddie tries not to notice the way it slides his thigh more firmly atop his own.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Harrington demands, and for a moment, Eddie’s afraid he somehow heard his thoughts, another in a long line of indignities in this new world they’ve found themselves in, but he continues, “–the people? Not the flower monster that tried to eat us, or the red sky, or the shitty vines all over my house?”

“People means help! Who’s going to help us now?” Eddie demands, voice rising higher than it should. He swings his hand wildly, less of a gesture and more of a limb seizing with panic until it hits the closet’s wall with a hollow thwack, sending a bolt of pain from his pinkie finger down his wrist. 

Harrington turns violently, almost climbing in Eddie’s lap in his bid to both cover his mouth and wrench his hand away from the wall and clutch it tightly in the space between their chests. Eddie bites his own lip at the pain of the squeeze. It’s dark, but he can see the way Harrington’s eyes are widened with fear, the whites too visible.

“Shut up,” he hisses, hand squeezing a little tighter around his cheeks. 

They sit in the silence of the moment, staring at each other, ears straining for the sound of anything coming for them.

All is silent. Harrington’s hands ease away and he slowly shuffles out of Eddie’s space. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, almost reflexive. 

Steve doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t turn away either. They’re still both staring at each other. Eddie’s too tense to feel awkward about it.

He sits in the silence. He’s never been good at it—the quiet. It eats at him, picks away at his skin until he’s back in a run-down apartment with a Father in jail and Mom gone from the room even as she rots away on the couch. The silence eats and eats and eats, until he can almost smell the mildew of the always-closed windows, can feel the springs of his old mattress digging uncomfortably into his back.

The springs prod him, and he blinks into the closet, Harrington’s finger jabbing into his side.

“Don’t crack on me now, Munson.” He’s not smiling.

“Aww,” he replies, trying to make his tone its usual cloying flirtation, “didn’t think you cared, your highness.”

He twists his mouth up at the side. It doesn’t quite land on a smirk—he can feel the way it wobbles. If Harrington notices, he doesn’t call him on it.

With a roll of his eyes, Harrington responds, “like you said, no people means no help, means you’re all I’ve got.”

“Don’t sound too happy about it,” Eddie mutters, but the house is too quiet and they’re sitting too close together.

Harrington scoffs, but he leans back further, settling fully on his ass for the first time since he’d dragged Eddie into the closet with him, like all he needs to feel at ease is Eddie being a dick to him. He’s not sure whether or not that’s infuriating or charming, but the knot in his throat that feels suspiciously like tears breaks loose when Harrington leans back on the heels of his hands.

There’s something to the ease of Harrington in this moment that makes Eddie wonder if he’s ever actually seen him at ease before. When Eddie had watched him across the lunch room, eyes unwillingly drawn to the jocks table, his shoulders were always relaxed, mouth always turn up at the corners, but there was still something so stiff about him. Eddie’s not sure he’s ever seen him lean back like this.

It's almost like, without eyes on him—or with only Eddie’s—his body has gone ragamuffin. A marionette with all it’s strings cut. It’s like. Like—

It’s like hiding from a horrific Lovecraftian monster in the alternative dimension version of his own closet with Eddie Fucking Munson is the first time Steve Harrington has felt comfortable in his own skin. Either that, or Eddie’s spiraling.

“Stop staring at me, man,” Harrington says, draping a hand over his eyes to block out the nonexistent light.

It’s only then that Eddie realizes he has been staring. He snaps his gaze to the floor, running his fingers through the soft shag of Harrington’s fancy carpet. It’s things like this that got him marked as queer within weeks of moving here.

“What’re we gonna do, man?” Eddie asks, like a broken record.

Harrington sighs, drooping further into the carpet. “I vote we go to sleep and hope this was all a bad dream.”

And as if his word had been decreed, Harrington stretches out as much as he can in the confined space, using a pile of dirty clothes as a pillow, and closes his eyes. The side of his leg ended up pressed across the entire side of Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie stares, struck dumb by the audacity of Harrington checking out in a moment like this. When his silence gets no reaction, he slumps down, dragging his cheek into the soft carpet as Harrington slumbers beside him. It feels like hours until he falls asleep.

Part 2

[lacedupforyou]

yandere mikey (tr)? 🤭🫶

|𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 |𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙈𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙮 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 |

~

He's a child, Mentally. When he first saw you walking with Takemichi to bring Hina a gift. He walked up normally with Draken " Oi, Takemichi! Ha? Who's this?". You introduced yourself and Mikey offered you a ride home on his bike. He wasn't taking "No" for an answer. You agreed after 4 try's of him asking. He drove recklessly so you would hold on tighter . He dropped you off at your place and waved you off. The smell of you stayed on his coat. He had a huge grin on his face as Draken sighed.

The next day was a lovely Saturday. You had planned to go to the shrine and get a new charm. You had recently lost your "Safety" charm..Wonder why. But as you walked to the shrine you saw a shit ton of bikes. You waved it off as they must be at the place near by. As you walked up the long steps of the shrine you heard shouting. It spooked you but you were curious as hell now. You slowly kept walking up and peered behind the steps. "Toman" That's Mikey's gang..Mikey must be here. You saw his eyes scan over and it was almost like his eyes met yours. His eyes fixed on yours and he ended the meeting you started to rush down the stairs to not get caught eavesdropping. You heard footsteps rush quick as lightning behind you and the shouting of men. Mikey ran like some kind of animal and lunged. He crashed into you and you rolled down the steps of the shrine.

"Ow..Ow..Ow!! That hurt! What was that for!!"

"Y/n Chin! Were you spying? Are you with the black dragons..? If you are I'll show you no mercy!"

He was hopefully joking as he sat on top of you. His captains running down to the bottom step and surrounded you and him. You heard questions being asked and Takemichi's blank face. Mikey grinned, Hoisted you up over his shoulder and waved his captains off stunned. Are you his..Lover? He drove to a cafe and sat down with you.

" You know Mikey..People might get the wrong Idea."

"So? Let them." He said sounding almost bored.

"But I uh- Well you're a gang leader..I could get hurt-"

"I'll protect you."

"But I just think-" He shoved some tasty kind of bread thing in your open mouth and grinned widely. You told him your story and how you met takemichi. When you talked about the moments you had close with him he seemed to almost glare. But you continued on with your story. He told you about toman. His fights, His losses, His Victories. You felt sorry for him. He explained the black dragons to you and how they had met with hakai and takemichi. You felt almost frightened by it. Would they come for you? He drove you somewhere else this time when you expected him to take you home.

"This isn't my home mikey.."

"I don't have enough gas to take you home, It's a long walk. Just spend the night" He replied He totally had plenty of fuel he just needed an excuse and a small lie

"If you say so...I guess it's safer from enemies.." You sighed.

You slept over. Spending time talking, meeting Emma, and playing games. When you both started to feel a bit drowsy You slept on your bed spread. Mikey waited, Until your chest had done some steady rhythms. He crawled on top of you invading your space. Giving your cheek a small peck with his lips.

When you had awoken you were ready to head home, Since it would be a long walk. Mikey had still been sleeping but when you saw him sleeping on top of you you claimed it must have been sleep walking. You gathered your things in a small bag of yours and said you goodbye's to Emma. You had walked about 2 miles when you noticed a group walking behind you. You thought nothing of it but they kept doing it. Following your paterns and if you crossed a street. As you took a detour one of the people shot in front and you were cornered.

"That's the girl hats been following Mikey..Shit. He'll pay for what that bastard did..Now hold still pretty thing..Damn I see why Mikey has his eyes on you." One of them uttered

"Wow- Hey Wait-" You stuttered out. They were closing in you. You needed to do something and fast. Then, It all turned into shades. Everything was blurry. Mixes on colors of darkness and light. Then you saw the men beaten beyond recovery when you came to your senses. All you could see was mikey, The calm funny childish mikey with his fists bloodied. The rage on his face terrifying. You fainted from shock and fear, your brain overstimulated. He caught you quickly in his arms and smiled a sick twisted grin.

"It's a good thing I had followed you..Let me take you back home silly girl..Heh..~"

| Whew! 4 works out today! :') Hope people like them!"

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

Imogen and Dorian have a really interesting parallel going on where they're both playing with the themes of reluctant leadership (Imogen is struggling with being pushed into leadership of Bells Hells by Orym, and Robbie stated on the first 4 sided dive episode that he specifically built Dorian to play in that narrative space) and are often indecisive as a result, but the specifics of how exactly they're indecisive are slightly different. Dorian tends to resist making decisions at all until his hand is forced, while Imogen often makes big decisions that she rapidly walks back.

Imogen has, multiple times now, chosen to walk into the storm/connect with Predathos in her Ruidusborn nightmares only to become spooked by what she encounters and go to back to running from the storm/Predathos the next time she dreams, and as such, she's spent much of the narrative waffling about if or how much she should embrace the storm and the powers it gives her. Another example is her removing the Circlet of the Hidden Eye after Ashton's disastrous attempt to absorb the shard of Rau'shan. She stated she did this because she felt that if she'd been able to know what Ashton was planning she could have stopped them, as "one of [her] strengths is knowing". But this never came into play, she never used her abilities to try and know what the rest of the party was doing to try and prevent them from making bad choices, and she ended up putting back on and reattuning the circlet on Ruidus after the party narrowly avoided Otohan Thull to try and prevent her from tracking them. It should be noted that avoiding being tracked by the Vanguard is the reason she bought the circlet in the first place, and so it was a benefit she knowingly discarded by taking it off.

Dorian, in contrast, often puts off making decisions until he is absolutely forced to by the circumstances, but will stick to them once he's made them. Back in the very early days of the campaign, after Cyrus had revealed himself to be in Jrusar with a massive bounty on his head, Dorian spent a lot of time mentally struggling with whether to stay with the Hells or to try and help Cyrus somehow. Robbie noted during the party's encounter with Artana Voe in the back of the Soot and Swill that Dorian wanted to coerce information about Cyrus' situation out of her after the party had gotten the information they needed on Gurge, but he ultimately chose to follow his friends, albeit very worried about Cyrus. But when Cyrus was being arrested by the Green Seekers at the ball Dorian instinctively intervened, and forced them both to have to flee the continent, he showed no regret about this despite being saddened to part with the Hells. During the recent Crownkeeper's interlude, while Dorian's lack of effectiveness in the combat with Opal was driven by Robbie just not rolling well that whole fight, he flavoured it as Dorian being overwhelmed by the situation and not sure what the the right course of action was and so not really doing anything even as the rest of the group were all making hard choices. But after he was forced to leave by Opal's Mass Suggestion and Cyrus was killed, Dorian committed himself to going to find Orym and participate in whatever fight he'd gotten himself into, to the point that when he asks Keyleth if the Hells are ready to go to Aeor (as they're sorting through a truly staggering number of random body parts), he very specifically asks about THEM; he already knows he's committed to this.

Both of these characters second guess their own choices a lot, Dorian before and Imogen after making them, and I'm fascinated to see where this goes for the both of them since they're both in a place at this point where taking a leadership role is something they will have to do at some point. Imogen has been solidly presented as the leader of the group to the Volition, who are looking to be a major allied force for the Hells going forward, and with Cyrus dead, Dorian's first in line to the throne of the Silken Squall. Despite their doubts they both going to have make the kind of choices they have historically avoided or walked back.