#-bangs fists on table- FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY

[ad15124]

I'm sorry but no Pixar movie will ever live up to the best one. a hot shot entirely arrogant and egotistical yet ultimately lonely young guy lands up in the middle of a small town before a big race, and having destroyed it's road by accident is now forced to rebuild it? slaps. he meets a beautiful woman who won't take any of his bullshit? wonderful. he realises the old grandpa is a washed up hero that people turned their back on after he came back from an injury, now residing amongst people who love and care for him and he thinks the guy will ruin the town he lives in? dear god I am in love. the young-un meets someone of a sort he once looked down on and they have fun together, and he finally finds a best friend? I will cry. the hotshot falls in love with the town, the town that has long since left the public eye, and the grandpa shows him how self-centred he's been his entire life? please I'm crumbling. the rockstar helps everyone in town, makes them all feel loved and heard and finally feels at home before the paparazzi find him and drag him to his competition, the door closing on his found family just as he's connected with them, all apparently because the grandpa gave them a call? I'm furious! him losing focus at the competition only to hear the grandpa in his headset and go “yeah yeah it's just - wait WHAT” and find that they all came to watch and the grandpa is his coach now all because the best friend didn't get to say goodbye? god I'm squealing with joy! the old dude in his last race ends up in an accident and this boy stops in his tracks, remembers how his coach was disgraced the same way and helps push him to the finish line? I am sobbing. “there's more to racing than just winning” same line as the start, but where earlier it was to impress the camera, this time it's from the bottom of the heart. banging my fists on the table “you got a lot of stuff kid” the grandpa says to the boy, pride, forgiveness and acceptance mingle as I begin to wail. the new racing headquarters will be built in the town, it's back on the map. I am hopping up and down out of sheer jubilation. oh and they're all cars btw. what more do you want?

[thesithdiaries]

Prisoner (Part 2)

Set: Middle of season 1 to beginning of season 2

Pairing: (kind of) Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon female!reader, (platonic) overprotective!Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon female!reader

Warnings: typical westori violence, curse words/spoilers for both seasons but especially season 2, everyone being absolutely stupid, conversations about characters that were offed, major character death, talks of forced marriage, being made prisoner, bruises, scrapes, minor talk about weight and not eating

Plot: One of Viserys Targaryen’s final wishes was to see them married. To please him, Rhaenyra allowed her daughter to stay in the Red Keep alone, not knowing it would be a terrible mistake.

(Part 1)

"The Crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the Crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly." Viserys stood at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping over his family. "For this reason, I would also like to propose a marriage between Aemond and the princess."

Your ears began ringing, not being able to hear what Rhaenyra or Alicent were saying. Your eyes found Aemond's, who wore a sly smirk. Marry? Him? You could feel your family's stares, waiting for an answer. Daemon squeezed your hand in comfort.

Knowing there was nothing he could do or say in this situation, Jace got up and invited Helaena to dance, to Aegon’s dismay, while Luke chatted with Baela and Rhaena.

Aemond sat there, staring at his future wife. He sensed you were displeased by the news, but he did not know what he felt. He had never expressed his true feelings to anyone, but Aemond had been interested in you when you were children. He suppressed those feelings after losing his eye, convinced you now hated him. What he didn't know was that you did harbor resentment toward him, especially after hearing how he spoke to your brothers that night and his attempt to harm Jace.

He banged the table before standing up. "A final tribute. To the health of my nephews, Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... strong," Aemond spoke, barely suppressing a smirk. "Come... let us drain our cups to these three... Strong boys. And to my soon-to-be Strong wife."

"I dare you to say that again," Jace warned him, fists clenched.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment. Don't you consider yourself Strong?"

Jace punched Aemond, who retaliated by shoving him to the ground. Meanwhile, Aegon pinned Luke down on the table. You stood up, defiantly facing your future husband. With a low chuckle, you raised your hand and slapped him. Before you could say another word or raise your hand again, Daemon grabbed your forearm.

"Why would you say such a thing in front of everyone?" Alicent reprimanded, clearly embarrassed.

"I was merely expressing my pride in my family, Mother," Aemond replied casually. "Though it seems my nephews and niece aren't quite as proud of theirs."

"Wait, wait!" Daemon interjected, raising a cautionary finger toward his children.

"Go to your quarters. All of you, now," Rhaenyra commanded, and they obeyed, not wanting to escalate the situation further. "It's best if we return to Dragonstone," she told Alicent firmly.

"You've only just arrived," Alicent murmured, rubbing Rhaenyra's wrist. "Besides, Helaena wanted to share some things with the princess."

Rhaenyra sighed. "Let me escort the children home. I'll return on dragonback."

---

"My darling," Rhaenyra lamented as you embraced her. "We're going back to Dragonstone. You're to stay here."

"What?" You stuttered, pulling away. "Why?"

"Queen Alicent says Helaena wants to spend time with you. I'll take the children home and come back soon. It'll be alright," Rhaenyra reassured, caressing your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"No," you pleaded. "Let me come with you."

Rhaenyra hugged you again, holding you close. A worried feeling crept over her. You sat together on the bed, with you clinging to your mother, not wanting to let go. Rhaenyra stayed with you, gently playing with your hair and humming lullabies.

Hours later, after Rhaenyra retired to her quarters, you paced with fists clenched. The events of the day weighed heavily on your mind, especially your betrothal to Aemond.

“Dear wife, are you still thinking about that?” You flinched, turning around. Aemond stood inside your chambers, holding a small box in his hand.

“How dare you come in here after what you said during supper,” you retorted sharply.

“It was only a harmless compliment, no need to make a fuss,” Aemond replied dismissively, ignoring your anger. You scoffed at his audacity. “I wanted to speak to you.”

“Get out, now,” you ordered, but instead of leaving, Aemond swiftly approached you. “Get out!”

“This is for you,” Aemond said casually, opening the box to reveal a ring adorned with rubies, made from Valyrian steel. "I’ve always planned to give you this since we were children. Deep down, I knew the King always wished for us to be married.”

You were bewildered, unsure of his intentions. “What is it you truly want? For me to forget how you, Aegon, and the rest of your family treated mine? How you almost bashed Jace’s head with a rock?”

Aemond merely hummed, slipping the ring onto your finger despite your attempts to pull away. “It suits you.”

You stood in tense silence, locking eyes. After what felt like an eternity, Aemond left the quarters, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You glanced down at the ring on your finger, twiddling it nervously.

---

You woke to daylight streaming into your room. As you prepared to meet with Helaena, you tried to open the door, only to find it locked. Confused, you pulled at it again and knocked loudly, expecting the guard to correct the mistake. “Ser? The door is locked!”

“I cannot let you out, princess,” a knight’s voice came from the other side.

“Why not?” you asked, growing annoyed. “Open the door.”

“You are to remain in your quarters until further notice. This is King Aegon’s order.”

Your eyes widened. “King Aegon?”

The knight did not respond, indifferent to the banging on the door.

You had not seen anyone all day, only a maid who brought you meals and quickly exited the quarters.

It was late, and the absence of the moon made the air feel thick, almost suffocating. "Lucerys is dead," Alicent informed you, her tone dry and lacking sympathy. “It happened last night, above Storm’s End.”

You remained still, though you felt your body shaking as tears filled your eyes. As soon as Alicent exited, your knees buckled. You wept, Lucerys Velaryon was gone.

Your sobs echoed through the Red Keep.

Queen Alicent began to worry about the possible consequences, fearing that Rhaenyra would retaliate for the throne and the death of her son. She also worried because you were refusing to eat, lying in your bed, and crying yourself to sleep.

Aemond hadn't visited you either.

It felt as if they had forgotten about you.

Part 3

[opultea]

Pet Parents

You and Genshin men with a fluffy family! ft. Gorou, Diluc, Kaveh

GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Fluff - Drabbles - Romantic

Word Count: 0.7k

Gorou

"We're kinda like Tawara's parents, aren't we?"

Gorou's head whipped up at your sudden statement, his pale cheeks filling in with red. You bit back a smile at the way his ears twitched as if trying to make sure he heard you correctly.

As a frozen Gorou processed your comment, the pup sitting between you decided that you were more likely to pet him with the general in his current state. You smiled as Tawara turned over, inviting you to rub his soft belly.

As you gave Tawara his earned affection, you raised an eyebrow at your flustered boyfriend.

"Gorou? Are you okay?"

"P-parents?!" He stuttered abruptly, pulled out of his state by your voice. "You mean... me and you? Parents? T-together?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "We take care of Tawara, right? And he's so small and cute, which makes him the perfect baby!"

Gorou nodded slowly, his ears laying back against his head as he calmed his firey face.

"Not to mention..." You started cryptically, cooing as you gave Tawara's face a squish. "He's super diligent and adorable, just like his father,"

You hid your giggle as Gorou shot up again, his tail wagging fervently behind him as the blush returned to his face.

Diluc

The cats of Mondstadt were renowned for leading anyone who followed them to their home; the Cat's Tail. However, many of the felines could be found lazing about Angel's Share. One would think these cats are placed specifically to lead people away from the competitor, but upon the visit of the establishment's owner, their true intention would become clear.

Diluc had only intended to spend time with you when he sat at the outdoor table of the Angel's Share, but it seemed that time was being stolen by some affectionate kittens. Diluc raised his eyebrow at the tabby rubbing its face against his leg, shifting to avoid its strange affection. You held a giggle as a large calico stood, hooking its paws on your partner's chair to gain a better vantage point.

Kaeya was not so kind as to withhold his amusement.

"My my, to think the cold-hearted Master Diluc would be so beloved by Mondstadt's cats. Whatever do they see in you, I wonder?"

Diluc's ire was redirected long enough for a young tuxedo to jump into his lap, meowing blissfully as it made itself comfortable.

"It must be since you're so warm," you offered, reaching over to pet the cat on Diluc's lap.

The brothers' reactions differed severely. Diluc coughed into his fist to hide the growing warmth on his face, Kaeya's amusement at your innocent comment raising his gleeful smirk.

"Isn't that sweet, you two should consider adopting,"

You laughed at Diluc's hardening glare; the only way he could show his disdain with the cat on his lap now reaching up to tap its paw on his cheek.

Kaveh

"Kaveh, honey, I don't know if we have the room..." you said softly, lips pursed gently in a worry you tried to hide.

The golden-hearted light of Kshahrewar was often found with the animal populous of Sumeru City, worry crumpling his brow as he fed them and spent his salary on beds for the strays. You loved his caring nature and always insisted on helping him with the animals. However, you were unsure how many more animals your little home could host.

"Oh, well I'll keep them in my office," Kaveh released the desert foxes in his arms, letting them stretch and wander around your home. "They won't be too much trouble, and if they get too rowdy, then I'll put a bed outside for them,"

You huffed a gentle sigh, strolling over and smiling as you dodged the desert fox running across the room. Your hand brushed Kaveh's bangs away from his face, fingers curling to caress his cheek.

"You really are too good Kaveh," your loving tone and gaze caused a bright flush to spread from your boyfriend's neck and ears.

"I just think they deserve to live better, not out on the street. Better than me, at least. And if you're being inconvenienced by the animals, I'll just have to relocate them," Kaveh rubbed the back of his neck bashfully but spoke with rigid honesty.

"Aww, of course I'm not being inconvenienced! I love you, Kaveh. And if loving you means loving having a lively home, then so be it. Besides, I think it makes for a pretty cute scene, especially when you dote on them."

The kiss you landed on his cheek was the final straw for his embarrassment. Kaveh withered onto the couch behind him, burning up at your praise.

"I think you're the one that's too good, you know,"

[formulawife]

1998 Mika Häkkinen's road doc

Stumbled onto some old Finnish Mika documentaries, and I felt like translating some parts I found interesting for you guys. I'll definitely translate more if there's interest!

Kari O. Sohlberg on Mika Häkkinen ; ”I tried to influence Keke [Rosberg] that he’d take Mika under his wings and that he’d take him further,”

Erkki Mustakari ; ”I recall the late James Hunt saying that there’s something exceptional about that boy [Mika Häkkinen],”

”I’d quote my friend Keke [Rosberg] on this, he was watching the first Formula Opel Lotus competition and he called and said, ’ Well, he’s [Mika] great at driving but he’s crazy. ’ ”

Mika Häkkinen on his first time driving a F1 car ; ”I was expecting a little more kick, but it was a little bit of a surprise that it wasn’t that much of a cannon.”

Mika Häkkinen ; ” If there’s a break during a season, like a chance to take a few days off, I definitely don’t feel like going to some vacation destination in the south, but my summer cottage is the only place where I wanna come.”

Ron Dennis on Mika ; ” He’s a professional, of course there’s a bit of immaturity there, and that’s because he’s young. I find it refreshing, you know? There’s a bit of naivety there, it’s a good value, it’s not a bad one.“

Mika Häkkinen on his 1995 crash; ”Of course I had my family and girlfriend around, along with Ron Dennis and his wife and other people constantly giving me support. You hurt constantly, your head ached constantly, and some place ached all the time, and the pain was so high that you’d bang your fist on the table and yell, ’God damn it, that’s enough.’ ”

Also, something I found really cute; Mika Häkkinen's Formula 1 debut being announced in a press conference with Santa

[auncyen]

Say How You Feel

(...tentative title and yeah it's continuing off of this ahfeohef I REALLY WANTED TO FINISH TODAY BUT I GOTTA CALL IT HERE TONIGHT the writing juice is running low)

A...family? Your heart flutters at the thought--and then it drops.

Because Isa's wrong. He's assuming way too much. Bonnie already has their family, and maybe you're friends with Mirabelle but you're so bad at talking with her she can't possibly consider you family, and Odile's... already made it clear how she feels.

"No? You don't agree?" Isa asks. Stars, you want him to be right! You want it to be true! But...

"We're not even all friends," you mutter, and he looks surprised--did he forget?? You're supposed to be the forgetful one! "Don't you remember? Odile said we weren't friends, we're allies at best!"

Odile looks more surprised than you expected when you glance at her--she even looks confused. Did she forget too???

And then, with a flash of surprise, her expression switches to annoyance and aggravation. "Siffrin, I was joking."

"...Oh." This time you want to slide under the table and never emerge.

"No, but this is why it's good to talk about our feelings!" Mirabelle says. "Because, well, sometimes misunderstandings don't get caught right away."

"Gems forbid Siffrin had left thinking I don't even like them." Odile folds her arms and then looks aside, her upset expression slowly softening with regret. "But it's funny, in a sense. I was prepared to do terrible things to protect you all. Still am, should it be necessary." She smiles wryly, but it fades quickly. "But that's unlikely now. Instead, we need to do something I'm not very good at. Discussing feelings."

Isabeau nods. "Sometimes that feels like a terrible thing too."

"The worst," Odile mutters, getting a quiet laugh out of him. You smile, though your eyes are still fixed on the table. "'Family'... I have some issues with that word, but I...suppose it best describes the closeness I feel to you all. And yes, that includes you, Siffrin."

Your cheeks burn, and you glance up to see she's looking at you. You squirm a little in your seat. But she smiles at you with fondness, and the warmth stinging your cheeks isn't so bad.

"It fits!" Bonnie says. "We stay together, we eat together! Like me and Nille!"

"Mm!" Mirabelle nods happily. "I think it's a lovely description for us!"

"I think we're all in agreement, then!" Isabeau says. "Because, Sif, you used your wish to guide us all safely through the House. You really care a lot about us."

You nod, too embarrassed to look up.

"And we care about you."

You grip your elbows tightly below the table. Why is your eye stinging? This is wonderful! It's everything you could ask for!

"But--"

'BUT'?!

Isabeau's hands fly up when you look at him, and his voice squeaks a bit. "We don't know how to help you if you don't tell us there's a problem!"

"There's not--"

Bonnie bangs their small fists on the table. You nearly jump out of your skin. "You were crying, Frin! You NEVER cry! We gotta know what's wrong!"

"Easy, Boniface," Odile chides, gesturing them to sit back down in their chair.

"We need to talk about this calmly," Mira reminds Bonnie before looking at you. "But we really do need to talk about it, Siffrin. Last night, you...you didn't just seem sad, you seemed distraught."

"We'd really like to help, Sif. Even if it's just by listening."

"There's no point in talking about it." You slump back in your seat, hugging your arms. You feel cornered right now. Your friends in front of you, and the aching void inside you, yawning and stretching to swallow up your past. ...If they really want to know, eventually they'd see how empty you are anyway, so you might as well talk. Maybe it's better they find out here and now. (It probably would have been best if they'd found out before calling you family.) "I can't even explain it well."

"Siffrin." Odile's voice is softer than you'd expect. "I...have an idea what the issue might be. Correct me if I'm wrong, but...you can't go back home, can you?"

(Laugh it off. Tell her she's wrong.)

Your eye burns.

(Lie and you might have a little longer before they realize you're broken!)

But they'd figure it out eventually. You shake your head. No, you can't go back home. Mira makes a sad hum.

"Why can't you go back home?" Bonnie asks. "Were they really mad about the boat?"

Bonnie's question is so confusing that you forget about the stinging in your eye for the moment, managing to look up at them. "...What?"

"The boat. When you ran away?" Bonnie huffs when you stay silent. "You still don't remember? You were telling us the story yesterday, and then you just stopped in the middle! ...Frin? Are you okay?"

...Yeah, Isabeau said something about you telling a story about running away yesterday, right? At the time, you'd tried to put it out of mind to focus on getting through the House, but... if you'd ran away in a boat...

Your very first memory is of being in a boat, staring at the stars above, around, below you, the dark ocean mirroring the night sky. It'd taken you long minutes to realize you should get to land and search for the darkness that wasn't broken by pinpricks of light to find the coast. It'd taken you even longer, midway rowing there, to realize that no, it wasn't just the pounding headache making it hard to think: you couldn't remember anything about yourself.

If you ran away in a boat, then...that's when it happened, isn't it? "Did I tell you why I ran away?" you hear yourself ask. Because--it's hurt, for so long, not having a home, not even knowing why you didn't have a home, so if you can at least have an answer--

"You didn't want to eat your veggies," Bonnie says simply. "Even though you should! Veggies are good for you!"

...What? What?

Oh,

that's

funny.

"Frin?"

That's

so

funny

you

can't

even

laugh.

"Sif?"

-

"raaj isn't this the happier au" yes. but also it's still Siffrin here and it's just way too tempting to think about their reaction to the runaway story in the context of 'this is why I don't remember a blinding thing about my life'.

[ironunderoos]

Dance for me kid

@awesomestarker wrote this nice prompt about Peter wanting to table-dance in a club but being told he's to ugly, until Tony learns of it (can be found here). I wanted to write the scene so bad, so here it is. Thanks to awesomestarker for the lovely idea! I would love to write more if I find the time >.<

To be honest, Tony wasn't expecting much.

He leaned back on the low couch, his arms resting on the back, his eyes on the young man - Peter, wasn't it? - who had followed him into the small private dance booth.

Working as a waiter at Tony's Club, Peter was cute, and his smooth uniform seemed to hide a well-formed body. But his job was to carry drinks, not to entertain at the tables.

Tony didn't know why he had asked him to dance in the first place. And why Peter had accepted so quickly.

Now they were here, following one of those impulsive decisions of Tony's. He tried not to show it, but he was expecting a shy and awkward striptease, maybe a little stumbling around, hopefully not until the boy embarrassed himself. He crossed his legs, bracing himself for a bad performance.

He hadn't expected to see Peter visibly change the moment the music started. In a second, he was standing by the pole, a little shy and insecure.

And then.

His body tensed. Electrified. Feet apart, back straight, he radiated a confidence that hadn't been there before. His face turned down, looking up at Toy from under his bangs, and the Blessed Mother and the whole family, that was a look. Pinning him down.

Without breaking eye contact, Peter tilted his head back. He undid the first button of his crisp shirt. Biting his lip as if he wanted it to be Tony's, he deftly moved his fingers down, undoing each button along the way without exposing the slightest bit of skin. As he did so, he slid down the pole, his knees spread wide, one hand behind his back,

The air was charged as the other reached his belt buckle. He caressed the buckle with his fingertips.

Tony’s mouth went dry.

But before unbuckling, Peter stood up straight again. In time with the music, he turned his back. Slender hips moved to the increasing rhythm of the music, that fantastic ass twitching from left to right. One hand gripped the pole. Sliding down agonizingly slowly, the body bending backward with the downward motion. Peter rolled his head from side to side as if in another world.

When Peter straightened up again, the shirt slid over his shoulders, revealing a perfectly toned back, a delicate waist, the upper part of his hips. In one swift motion, he pulled the shirt from his pants and twirled it around his fist in two, three movements. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes were back on Tony as he tossed the fabric aside. Biting his lip.

But Peter just grabbed the pole with both hands. His arms worked, exposing muscles like steel wires as he pulled himself up, his legs spreading as if he were weightless. His body rounded the pole, his face to the side, a dreamy smile on his face, as if he had no worries in the world. Only the firm grip of his hands revealed the tension and strength needed to perform simple pirouettes. He paused, kicked off his shoes, and propped himself on the pole with his bare feet as he took another turn, this time with only one hand. The other deftly unbuckled his belt. As he landed on the floor with both feet, he pulled the belt free and tossed it aside.

Tony watched in fascination as Peter touched himself. A light sheen of sweat on his body made his skin glow in the deep red light as he ran a hand from his neck down to his pants, the rhythm flowing through him. One hip jerked forward. The other followed, his body moving like a snake from side to side as he undid the button of his pants. Twitching his slender hips, showing off his abs, he turned again. His ass stuck out as the pants slid over that perfect bubble butt and down his legs.

Strangely, Tony found the tight boxers he was wearing even more attractive than a thong. It gave the strip a casual touch that he appreciated. Maybe it was that boy-next-door appeal that made Peter so hot.

A boy-next-door who suddenly spun around a pole, his legs spread on either side of the shiny metal. Turning upside down as if it were nothing, auburn curls swinging. And flexible he was. Sliding all the way down the pole until he was sitting on the floor, only to roll over until he was on his front, his ass moving up and down with his legs almost in a full split, basically fucking on the floor.

God damn, the last time Tony had come so hard so fast had been years ago. Peter wasn't even completely naked! And this kid was working as a waiter?!

"What the fuck?!"

Peter stopped in his tracks.

"Um... what?" He sat up, blinking as if waking from a dream. The shyness returned immediately, and it was strangely endearing.

Tony was already on his way to the door.

"Who decided you should waste your time carrying drinks?"

Peter flushed and licked his lips. He looked to the side.

"I was told..." he mumbled and the rest of the sentence was unintelligible.

Tony stopped in his tracks. "What? Speak up."

"That I'm not pretty enough to work the tables. Sir."

Tony stared at him, stunned.

Then he turned on his heels to find the dumb asshole of a manager.

Ex-manager.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Work For It (Chapter 2: Final)

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,330. 

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, fluff.

A/N - This is Part II and the final chapter of the request made by @actualhawkesworld​. Hope I haven't disappointed ya’ll. I live for the drama in this family though. 

The link for Part 1 is here.

TAGLIST (for this mini series) - @bibli0thecary​

A few nights had passed since your brutal confrontation with Aemond. He remained distant from you, as likewise you avoided him at all possible costs.

Much to your annoyance, the castle was not big enough to hide from him forever.

At times you’d catch him in the distance, a fleeting moment of eye contact exchanged before you’d wander off into the opposite direction. At times, you thought you’d notice him attempting to call out your name, although no voice called for you.

Dinners were a pain. You’d managed to excuse your absences for the first two evenings, stating you felt somewhat unwell, a “dull headache” or a “bad stomach ache” and no one questioned it.

Alicent did come to see you the following day, and she seemed skeptical though did not presume to question. She knew that Aemond and yourself had differences from time to time, although she’d entrusted that you both dealt with it maturely. She knew Aemond grew to become a dignified man, and was certain her son could handle such pressures unlike her eldest.

So she remained neutral, not wanting to meddle if not absolutely necessary.

Aegon on the other hand, had noticed the tension. Although most people underestimated Aegon’s capabilities, the rare times he found himself sober, he was quite observant of people and shifts in their behaviors or attitudes. He realized how introverted you’d become, often you’d have a familiar, warm smile on your face, and now hardly at all or a half attempt of one. He noticed his younger brother struggled to mask the sadness in his face, and how little words were exchanged between you two.

He knew Aemond would not disclose whatever adversity had befallen between you two, so he saw no point in trying to seek the truth with his younger brother. Although, perhaps with you there may have been a chance.

Aegon found himself seated next to you, where Aemond usually sat himself. Although, since the fallout, he found himself sitting next to Heleana and his grandsire, towards the end of the dining table. He masked the attempt, keeping himself busy with discussions with his grandsire, Otto Hightower, who remained unphased.

“So what wedge is plunged between yourself and my poor excuse of a brother?” His hand stretched out over towards your chair, as you’d swallowed a mouthful of the red wine.

“Nothing that concerns you, Aegon,” You utter, a faint smile on your face as you return your attention from Aegon back to your plate.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, how glum you’ve become, Y/N. If he’s done something to upset you-”

“And what does it matter to you, Aegon? I need not say it again, this does not concern you.” You cut him off, your gaze piercing into his, as he remained silent. His stretched out hand returned to his lap, as he shifted himself in his seat.

“So be it dearest, but you know my door is always open for you, especially. You know if you need a shoulder to cry on.”

You could feel Aegon’s sly smirk just in your peripheral vision, and it made your blood boil.

In an instant you heard a loud, dull bang against the wooden table, the cutlery and plates clinging in response.

Aemond stood up, his fists clenched tightly against the rough oak board of the table, his head bowed before looking up intensely towards your direction. His gaze shifted from yours to Aegon, who looked dumbfoundedly at his younger brother, as if unaware of any boundary he may have crossed.

“Aemond, my dear-” Alicent attempted to interrupt the tense silence.

But before she could reach out for Aemond, he’d left the table, storming out into the hallway before disappearing.

A part of you wished to follow him, although you found yourself continuing to remain seated. It was as though your body denied you the ability to move, your mind and body separate entities at this point. You caught Alicent’s fleeting gaze towards you, before sighing and looking down at her untouched plate of food.

And not for long, you found yourself again, excusing yourself from the dinner. No one dared to stop you, not even Aegon himself.

Although, as you wandered into the corridor, you were in no chasing mood to find Aemond.

The last time you’d confronted the man after he found himself heated, it left you in a state of anguish, brutal words exchanged which still remained unforgiven.

And again, you found yourself lonesome in your chambers, much to your own thoughts, before a loud knock interrupted.

“Who is it?” You questioned, desperately hoping Aegon hadn’t followed you out.

Although a mere seconds of silence followed, before a deep voice summoned ‘Aemond.’

Much to your surprise, you opened the door to him, not completely, keeping him remaining right outside.

“What is it, have you come to torment me more?”

He remained glaring at you intently, you were unable to decipher the emotion of his face.

“Can I come in or shall I remain a stranger to my own bed chambers?”

With a roll of your eyes, you widened the entrance, gesturing him to enter.

He closed the door behind you gently, as you made your way back to the seat you’d made yourself comfortable in just a few moments ago.

“What did Aegon say? What did he want from you?”

“Oh so, this is all it took for you to pursue me?”

His lips pursed, angered that this was not the response he’d wanted to hear so eagerly.

“Y/N, what did Aegon want?”

His words felt more like a command than a question, his tone definitive and low.

“He just noticed how distant we’d become, wanted to know why that was.”

“Hmm.” He nodded, as he propped himself in the seat opposite of yours, his elbows kneeling down against his knees.

“And what did you say?” He urged.

“I told him that he need not concern himself with private matters.”

Your attention spanned from Aemond and back to the fire yearning in the hearth.

You could just make out a faint smirk on his lips, as he looked down again at his hands.

You yet again, found yourself immersed in silence, before Aemond found the courage to talk.

“I-I have missed you… So very much. We see each other, remain by each other’s proximity and yet I feel like a complete stranger, watching you from the outside, and it’s tearing me up from the inside. You don’t understand, Y/N, this guilt-”

“Aemond, please-”

“No, wait.”  

He abruptly interrupted you, his gaze hadn’t left yours, a look of longing in his eye, a hint of grief as struck across his face, as though terrible news had befallen his ears.

“I am truly sorry, for what I said and how I acted. You were the only one that would listen, and when Aegon's name left your lips, I-I blacked out.”

Instinctively, he knelt himself before you, his hands grasping over yours as he pulled them in for a kiss.

“Ooh, these hands, how I’ve missed your touch-”

A half-hearted smile grew on your face, although this time, it felt genuine. Your eyes softened, as you watched him, a tear swelling in the corner of his eye, as he rubbed the skin of your hands against his cheek.

“Aemond, I-I am sorry for how I-”

“You have no reason to apologize for my love. I was the fool that fucked up, you were only trying to help me, when I was blinded by rage. And instead, I attacked you, the only thing worth living for.”

You could feel the small tears streaming down your face, as you lunged yourself closer to Aemond’s face, before kissing him down passionately. You felt his hands reach over to your waist, as he pulled you and himself up to stand, lips remaining crushed against each other.

“You-” He uttered, his hand caressing your cheek.

“Are what is worth living for.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

All the stars are shining bloody red

Previous chapter

a/n not sure if anyone's even waited for part two but this has been so fun to write so I hope y'all will give this a read. 🤍✨

summary: just what happens when an innocent night at the pleasure house leads to something much bigger, making two lost soles collide.

warning: choking, seductive behavior, past trauma idk not many warnings.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Sing her a song, an ancient lullaby", you hummed, dragging the brush through your curls. A distant memory of the song that twirled for as long as you could remember. "Make her eyes as shiny as sapphires gleam", you sang, moving to twist the braid, neatly wrapping it around the crown of your head. "Only your love can make her cursed heart beat." Pushing a pin with a pearl attached to the top of it, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror; the scattered frame looked right at you. As if the glass was broken yet you knew it wasn't, "Only you can make her see the truth", the toon died down quickly, overpowered by the banging on your door. The sudden sound made you drop the pin in your head as you wrung around. "You're needed in twenty minutes", the voice roared, and you found yourself nodding even if you were sure she couldn't see you.

As you stepped out of your room, the other girls were almost ready too. Fussing over one another as they fixed each other's hair and makeup. You often wondered what it was like to have friends like that. Or at least someone willing to help you out in some way. "Did you see who was in the crowd last night?", one of the blondes beamed. "I heard that Mother Myriam talked to the high lord himself", the other cut in, making a handful of girls gasp. "Do you think they'll be here tonight?", "Oh, if they are, the one with the broody face is mine". The fuss truly hasn't died down, it seems. Falling asleep was nearly impossible last night because the girls took ages to settle.

"Is it such a big deal?", you asked almost shyly, pushing them all turn your way. "Are you kidding?", the girl from the back snorted. "That's the high lord's family. That is the biggest deal there could be, silly". You lowered your head quickly with a nod. There were a lot of things that were still new to you. There were so many questions that you didn't have the answer to. "What do you think Mother Myrian would gift you if you got one of them into the back room?", Sylia was Myriam's favorite for a reason. That girl was ready to do anything. You doubted that she had any moral codes, but that was what got her so far. What gave her freedom? A chance to walk freely. To be her own creature. Something you would probably never know the feeling of.

It felt like whatever happened in that pleasure house had changed everything. Well, not for most. Mor was happy that she proved her point. That was more than enough for her. Everyone had talked about it the following morning. The mesmerizing gaze was still present until Rhys slammed his fist onto the table. Everyone had turned his way, and it was like he had felt under the spotlight. He pushed his chair back quickly as he walked out of the dining room.

Azriel said nothing about the conversation in the basement. He didn't bring up the fact that Rhys was somehow tangled in this as well. Or was he? It scattered Azriel's head as well, because he had, for the longest time, been sure that there were no secrets between them. Rhys had always made the point that honesty was the key to loyalty. And now that seemed like a rock that had been thrown into his garden. His high lord's head was bowed low as Azriel strolled through his office door. The information containing the names of all attendees was neatly written down, along with any other information that his shadows managed to gather.

Azriel knew that what Rhys now needed was for him to just drop the file on the side of the table and leave. But Azriel didn't care for Rhys's feelings. "Can I ask you something", Azriel said, turning back to his high lord. Rhys lifted his head, tired eyes looking at his shadow singer, and said, "Of course", "What do you know about that pleasure house?" Azriel made sure to emphasize your part, just in case. "Where is this coming from?", Rhys tried to ask, and yes, there was a pleading look in his eyes that requested Azriel to just drop this for now. That he will say everything when the time comes.

"Oh, we both know where this is coming from. Who the hell is Myriam?", That's been the only, or at least the most eager, question in his head. That felt like something personal. It wasn't just two strangers. Rhys knew that woman. But how? From were? Who was she? Did Feyre know about her?

"Azriel...", Rhys pleaded; he didn't even order him to stop; he was still hopeful that Azriel would do it on his own. "Rhys, you had me monitoring that place all night", Azriel stepped closer, and a deep sigh left the high lord's lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "She has something really valuable, and now that so many eyes have been drawn to it... If bad hands take hold of it, Azriel, the war like no other will break".

What was that, then? Why it? Why not speak of it? Didn't he trust him enough to share? He was the spymaster, and these things were his concern. "Fine", Azriel waved a hand in front of himself, "Don't say it straight to my face. I'll figure it out myself", and with a harsh slam to the door, he was off.

"I need five lucky fellas, or ladies, for that matter", Myriam said with that usual smirk on her face. Hands clasped in front of her in excitement, making other girls giddy as well. Everyone had been so giddy. "Things will be changing from now on. If it all works out, you might be finding yourselves in between the luxury sheets every night moving forward", happy clapping filled the place, with girls holding onto one another as they cheered. Yet you didn't share that same amusement. There was no happy thrill in your veins. If anything, you hated this. Hated it all.

Most of the girls started to spread out. Walking towards the tables, they got ready at or just split into little groups to talk. "Y/N, a word", your eyes jerked up as you stepped forward quickly, "Mother Myriam", you breathed out. The older woman looked down on you. Making you feel so small. So unworthy. There used to be a time when you thought that there was warmth in her eyes when she looked at you. Now you were sure that you had imagined it.

"I don't have to remind you of your loyalty to me, do I?", she asked firmly, and you quickly shook your head. "Your gifts would be wasted elsewhere, my gem", Her long nail jabbed the skin beneath your chin, pushing your head up and scraping the delicate skin there in the process. "And I saved you, remember?", You nod once more, biting the insides of your cheeks, trying to keep your fear at bay. "It was I who sacrificed so much so you could live", Her palm came to rest on her chest, right above where her heart should have been. Should have. "Do your thing, darling, and don't disappoint me", she said through gritted teeth, suddenly pinching your chin harshly.

Azriel was watching it all again. The sound of the music, humming. The way your eyes shifted as the same greenish mist draped all over the place. The dim corner hid him perfectly. His shadows were all over the place; just tonight they had been blended so neatly in between every corner and each side that no one or any talk could slip past his knowledge.

Azriel listened to your voice, which surprisingly didn't reach him tonight. Had he imagined the beauty of it? No, it was beautiful. The most beautiful voice he had heard. It just didn't stop his heart tonight. He watched as those same greenish swirls twirled around a couple of guests seated in different parts of the room. Lulling them to the point of complete bliss. The spymaster frowned. He only saw five people surrounded by them. Why them? Why not the others? Then the girls from the stage quickly swirled toward the males. No heads turned their way. Their hands were on them the moment they got close. Smothering them with soft touches and nuzzling against them.

Then the room went so dark that even Azriel lost his sight for a moment, and when he could finally see, the five males were gone. So were the chairs. The crowd let out a satisfied sigh as if they had regained their power to breathe just then. The sound of the music suddenly started to fade, and the same set of females, now dressed in expensive lingerie, twirled around the tables. Azriel's eyes darted back to the stage. You were gone. What in the living moon had just happened? Where was the males he saw moments ago? Where were you? Why weren't you among the girls eager to sit on anyone's lap?

You lingered backstage tonight. Peaking through the drawn-out curtains as Sylia wrapped herself around no doubt another high bidder. The man pushed a handful of bills down her bra, and she batted her lashes so hard at him. You frowned. Why would anyone willingly do this? Myriam paid well as it was, and this? To be groped on all night long? You shouldn't care, in all honesty. They were all of age and allowed to do what they wanted, but still...

You turned to walk back to your room. Eager to enjoy the static sound of silence for a bit. None of the girls were returning early tonight. The place was packed. They will be there, draining them all raw. Myriam got her batch as well. So she wouldn't be by your door, barking for you to explain yourself. You did your part and earned some rest, and you were going to take full advantage of it.

The floorboard behind you creaked, making you swirl back, but the darkness of the backstage corridor made it hard for you to see anything. It had to be a rat or, well, anything. No one could enter this part of the building. You turned back around, only to be met with a big wall of shadows. Letting out a yelp, you staged back. Back hitting a solid surface. A wall? There was no wall there. Until a hand wraps itself around your throat, tightening enough to cut off air but not enough to break your neck,

"No, please", you choke out, your hands trying to take hold of the wrist, but it was so thick you couldn't even wrap both of your palms around it. "What the fuck is this place, huh?", the voice roared in your ear, making a cold shiver run down your back. "Please don't make me", You gasped for air in between every word, yet the grip around your throat didn't ease. "Where are those males now?", How did he know? How did he see that? No one was conscious enough to see or think clearly when that part of the performance came. A panic ran through your mind and body before you reached back, cupping the sides of the intruder's face before muttering, "I'm so sorry."

When Azriel finally opened his eyes, he felt as if he had been beaten to the pulp by a whole Illyrian male village. His mind felt hazy. Yet the coolness surrounding his body soothed the aches all over. Where was he before he fell asleep? Did he... Azriel suddenly tried to jerk up, yet he only managed to lift his head. His body seemed to be glued to the surface that he was lying on. Looking around frantically, he saw those same greenish shadows, and his mind quickly welcomed him with the knowledge of what had happened. Azriel followed you. He had you so close for a moment. He remembers the way his heart sped up when he inhaled your scent, and then you reached for him.

The tiny door opened up, and he watched as you nodded at something before flashing the person in front of you a fake smile and closing the door. Azriel began to move around frantically, and your head jerked his way. Shhh, don't move, and please don't scream", You put a finger to your lips, stopping to listen to the sound outside the door. Had you not told on him? Was Rhys not already fuming that Azriel had gotten caught?

"How did you take me out?", Azriel groaned, his eyes piercing yours. A light bruise was forming around your neck, which made a cold chill run down his spine. He didn't intend to leave a mark, and he didn't think that he pressed that hard to hurt you. Just slightly cut off the oxygen flow. "With my hands", you lifted both of your palms, looking at them. "Your hands? With those hands?", Azriel asked, and you quickly rolled your eyes. "Sorry, can we try not to be so sexist?" Azriel let out a frustrated growl as he tried to free himself. This all had to be a joke.

"Are they similar to my mist?", Your voice was almost a whisper, and Azriel looked up from where he had tried to pull a dagger from under his belt. One of his shadows was neatly placed around your palm, swallowing it all before plopping on the shell of your palm. "No, and I'm not here to answer your questions. Let me go." Your sad gaze looked back to the black creature before you twisted your palm, and Azriel slumped slightly, moving his arms and legs quickly to stop himself from falling.

"There is no way for you to get out of here now. Lights go out in...", You turned toward the tiny moon clock on your desk. "Twenty minutes. I'll walk you to the closest exit", "I don't need an escort", Azriel snarled, trying to take in as much of this space as he could because he was almost convinced this was the room his shadows had tried to seep into the previous night. "And I wasn't asking", you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's that or...", but you cut yourself off. Blinking a couple of times before turning away from Azriel.

Mother above, what was this place, and what were you all, weird creatures? "Sure, do your thing", Azriel said, earning one more glance from you. "So you will follow me?", you asked almost in disbelief, and Azriel wanted to laugh. Truly laugh at all of this nonsense. "As if you can't force me to do so", he said, your eyes growing big and your cheeks turning slightly pink as you lower your head.

It was probably the stupidest thing ever, but only now did you realize that you didn't even ask the stranger's name. You observed him while he was asleep. The way some of the messy curls had fallen onto his forehead. You had reached out to neatly smooth them back in, and the moment your fingers touched him, it felt like lightning had run through you. And then he woke up, and you realized where you had seen him before.

Your fantom hands had neatly smothered him to death the other night, and you had never been more mortified. You couldn't understand what had happened. The green, lulling mist was one thing but your phantom touche - what had triggered it? You had pulled away in time, but it's like something within you snapped. But he looked unharmed and unshaped today, so surely it didn't affect him.

You could feel his warmth behind you. It was strange how he had thrown a fuss that didn't suit his large frame one moment and then settled on following you the next. But you were glad that he did because if Myriam came across him... you weren't going to let that happen. He trusted you to help him, so you were going to get him out. Not to mention that it felt so surreal to have someone trust you. For the first time...

Rounding the last corner, you stopped quickly as the sound of gasping filled your ears. The male nearly ran into you as he too halted. You reached for his hand, subconsciously dragging him the other way. You wondered if you should have told him off for coming here in general. That he was one of the males the girls wanted to charm so much, but maybe he wanted to be charmed.

The moonlight that seeped through the door you had opened nearly blinded you. You quickly put a hand in front of your eyes as you stepped out, letting the male walk onto the dirty back street. "You're on your own from here", you said softly. "Just make sure...", but Azriel quickly cut in, "What did you say to me back then? I'm sorry?", Your brows scrunched as you tried to figure out what he meant. You didn't have enough time as he lunged forward, grabbing onto your head from both sides, saying, "I'm also sorry", you didn't manage to even take a breath before everything went black.

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All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan @bubybubsters

[ellievickstar]

I Found You…<3

A/N: I was kinda playing around with ‘i would burn this world for you’ and this came out. I might do this with other phrases…Also I just was to say that someone’s inability to love you does not make you unlovable, always remember that <3

Summary: During an argument with the female that his father forced him to marry, Eris realises that he wants her more than he could ever admit, and would love to prove it to her.

Request: N/A

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse.

~*~*~*~*~

Banging his fist against the table, he rose. There was rage in his eyes, pure unfaltering rage. You flinched slightly as he pointed accusingly at you, almost screaming. “How dare you disrespect a direct order from your father and High Lord! We have decided that you and Eris will be wed. You have no say! Do you hear me?” Opening your mouth to try and reason with your father, but he cut you off again. “If I hear another protest out of you, I will ensure that they will need much more than makeup to cover that HIDEOUS face of yours!” This was final, leaving no room for negotiation, your father stared at you as tears formed in your eyes, forcing you to look down, your hands shaking as you mumbled as many apologies as you could. 

This wasn’t the first time your father had abused his power to get what he wanted, seeing as he was a close friend of Beron Vanserra, the two of them seemed to find some sort of twisted pleasure in bringing pain to their children. Gasping as your father grabbed your face and pulled it to meet his, he snarled one more time, “And don’t even think about getting out of this like that whore from the Night Court, I won’t be nearly as merciful and that will be the last day you ever see the sky,” Nodding your understanding, your father looked at your face for any sign of dishonesty, satisfied to find only pure terror in your eyes. In his eyes, fear was a weapon that he would wield. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he finally let go of you, tears beginning to escape the corners of your eyes and flowed down your face. Pushing your chair out, you clumsily blurted the words to be excused, dazed as you swiftly exited the dining hall. The only thing guiding you in that moment was the voice in your head that told you to stay in your room until the next day. To follow your father’s instructions until the wedding, and to then play the perfect wife, a shell of the person she would have been, just like the Lady of Autumn. Part of you couldn’t bear it, screaming at you to run, to find solace in another court, to hide from your father and live out the rest of your days happily, free. But how could you? 

Your thoughts travelled to your sister…so so young. Your father had guaranteed that one of his daughters would marry one of the High Lord’s sons, and if Beron Vanserra or his mad sons got their hands on your sister- you would not stand for it. You would much rather be the one to enter that damned manor, to be the trophy wife for a mad man’s son. Maybe it would appease your father and he would be gentler on your sister, maybe if all was well you would be able to send her enough coin to help her run away, far from this cursed family. Far from a place that the both of you could never call home. 

Shaking your head, you knew it was impossible. All you could do was follow your father’s orders as best you could and pray that you could support your sister even after the ceremony was finished. 

Yes. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The days passed in a blink of an eye as you slowly forced yourself to endure a gruelling week of preparation to meet your betrothed. Father was getting more irritable, constantly screaming at servants for everything to be perfection. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him.  He was so demanding, especially now that the meeting was so near.  

Meanwhile, you dreaded the day more than anything, silently praying that an assassin from another land would come and end your life because of some agenda they have against your father. That would have been much better than marrying Eris Vanserra. You only had met him a handful of times, and all you recalled was his rudeness, his cruelty, how the servants feared him. It was well-known that he was just like Baron in many ways, especially when it came to being violent. 

“Shoulders straight, smile,”He snarled, “I don’t need any scandal, so behave.” 

“Your hair is out of place! And I can still see your bruises, which incompetent servant did your makeup!?” Your father fumed as you sat in the drawing room of your family house. You trembled silently, taking in every criticism as you prayed for the day to be over as soon as possible, willing yourself to hold back your tears as much as possible. 

Your fate was sealed as a servant crept into the room, informing your father that the guest had arrived. Baron Vanserra and his son were here. And they were here for you. The terror that you had hidden away began to creep up your spine. This was it. If you failed to make a good impression, you would remain in your own household and your father would beat you to death, or worse, beat your sister in front of you. If you made a good impression, you would be dragged away to the Vanserra Manor and be wed to what might be the cruellest man alive. 

They weren’t great options, but you wouldn’t take a risk on your sister’s safety. So you folded your hands in your lap, blinked back the tears, and smiled politely as the two males entered the room. Eris trailed behind his father, who shook your hands with your father, who ordered you and Eris to speak to each other while they discussed the details and formalities of this matrimony. 

Your smile dropped slightly, but you tried your best to mutter out an introduction under the searing gaze of the future High Lord.

“I am Y/N Y/L/N,” Eris nodded. “Eris Vanserra, Lord of Autumn,” It stayed silent after, the awkwardness hanging in the air. Part of you seemed to sigh in relief. Awkwardness, which meant he probably wasn’t as mean as you had imagined. Still you couldn’t completely skip over the possibility that he was hiding his true self in order to manipulate you. 

A few minutes of looking at anything but each other — the walls, the ceiling, even the creepy statue you had always hated �� had passed before Eris had cleared his throat, grabbing your attention. “So you’re the girl he wants me to marry,” In which you retorted back before you could stop yourself, “So you’re the mad man’s son.” Surprised by your own boldness, your face heated as a grin began to creep onto Eris’s face.

"Feisty, thought you would be quiet since the last time i saw you you were so soft, little flame," You paused at the nickname but quickly smirked back. "I was nine at the time, forgive me if you intimidated me. But now I see there was nothing to be afraid of because I think I could easily kick you ass," He chuckled. However, his laughter died down as you stared at him expectantly.

"You never told me you were Eris Vanserra," "But I did tell you I was someone important, not my fault you never recognised me at masquerades," He grumbled. You wanted to smile but there were still the problems that have just been precedent.

"The last time we met, you said that you'd burn the world for me, is that still true?" He thought for a moment as you braced yourself for he rejection that might come. But what he said next was so unexpected that it made your heart bleed.

"I wouldn't just burn the world for you, I'd live in it. Every single damn day I will bear the pains of this world for the rest of my life, if it means that I'll be with you. I found you, little flame, and i won't ever let go."

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: AHHHHHH OMG SO CUTE HAHAHHAHA

taglist: - no taglist for Eris yet -

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚 again, fueling my hatred

You're gonna get this thing published. I swear.

78 for Ravi!:

---

“Fuck off, Anil!” Ravi snapped, with no foresight or awareness. “I haven’t sold anything. And I came here tonight to talk about it, but you kind of beat me to it.”

“Sure you did,” Anil smirked. 

“That is enough!” His father banged his fist on the dining room table. A splash of prawn curry spilled over the edge of his bowl. 

Everyone fell completely silent. Ravi’s father - albeit a good-natured, easygoing man - has always held a sort of reverence among his family and beyond it. Ravi knew better than to keep going when he’d reached his limit. So did Anil. Not that he’d lost his temper once.

“Your mother has cooked a lovely meal for us,” his father scolded them both. “And you’re both sitting here, disrespecting her and me by squabbling like children. Absolutely unacceptable. I didn’t raise you to speak with such a filthy tongue, Ravi.”

“Sorry, Mummy,” Ravi muttered, utterly chastized. “Sorry, Pops.”

“We will discuss your plans about the Montebello property later,” his father continued. “And that is the last I want to hear about it tonight.”

Ravi nodded. Anil smirked subtly. Ravi waited for his father to turn his attention to Anil. To scold him the way Ravi had just been scolded. To remind him sowing discord at a family dinner is just as filthy, if not more so, than a few f bombs. 

But it never came. His father returned to his meal.

And Ravi’s greatest strategic error followed, as a result. 

“So not even a word about how he’s trying to sabotage me, then?”

“Ravi, please. Stop this.” His mother pleaded. 

But he couldn’t. He just physically could not.

“No! It’s not fair.”

“I didn’t sabotage you, Ravi. Grow up.” Anil rolled his eyes. “Or can you not on account of your numerous maladies?”

Ravi scoffed. He looked to his father for some defense. All he found was downcast eyes. Avoidance. Condemnation. He believed Anil. He turned to his mother. She raised her hands. 

“I don’t want to get in the middle.” She dismissed him. 

Ravi felt utterly betrayed. Utterly abandoned. Like his brother could stab him, plainly, right in front of them, and all they would do is watch. 

“I have to go,” Ravi said after a moment. He stood abruptly, supper unfinished. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible. His childhood home. 

“Sit down,” his father commanded. “Finish your meal.”

But Ravi didn’t. 

He couldn’t.

He allowed Anil to drive him out of his home. He allowed Anil to kick the legs out from his standing with his family. He allowed Anil to win. So Ravi just stopped playing the game. 

He left dinner.

He transferred ownership of the apartment back to his father.

He saw his parents less than ever. 

He closed another book.

📖📖📖

“I have to warn you,” Buck says, as they walk back into the station from the roof. “Eddie may have started yelling at your brother after you left.”

Eddie? Yelling? On Ravi’s behalf? 

“Whoa,” Ravi exhales. “I would pay to see that.”

[curiositydooropened]

My Whole Life, Too

Seven years after you've left Hawkins, a beautiful day for a wedding in New Mexico brings up old feelings. You're hoping to make the most of it with the comfort of best friends.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader, previous Steve Harrington x Reader

Wordcount: 8,419

Warnings: smut & smut adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), angst, lots of gushy friendship talk, weddings, drinking, mentions of drugs and cigarettes, so much guilt, Steve Harrington slander, lovin' both the boys, fluff, oh and Jancy

Navigation • Masterlist

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January 1994 - Albuquerque, NM

The pale blue chiffon of your dress wrinkled in the car, and your mouth tasted of wax from when the peachy pink lipstick clipped your teeth and smeared over your chin a few minutes earlier. You’d scrubbed at it with a wet forefinger, scrutinizing your reflection in an oblong mirror beside the gift table, but you couldn’t help but lick at your front two teeth self-consciously.

You ankles ached under your weight in your new heels, and each burst of winter, mountain air prickled the stubble beneath your nylons, but you were rooted to your spot in the lobby, nearest the guest book, making eye contact with each and every wedding guest as they entered through the chapel doors. 

So far, several little old ladies in lace collared dresses eyed you up, and several families with too-many kids stumbled in from the cold. You hadn’t seen a familiar face since you arrived, and you couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

From this vantage, you could barely see out into the parking lot, where snow was packed along the curve and inside oversized planters and the afternoon sun was just starting to dip low beneath the mountains, kissing everything in golds and roses. It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

Three teenagers entered, all three of them ducked over handheld video games, and just beyond you saw the swoosh of impeccable brown hair. Your heart thundered in your ears, mouth gone fully dry. You flattened clammy hands to the midsection of your dress and stood at full height to greet Steve Harrington.

Though, suddenly all of your rehearsed greetings had flown out of your mind. The only thing you could think of were the last things he said to you, the hurt blurring those big doe eyes, his mouth slightly agape, his fingertips grasping at your t-shirt as you released his shoulders and said goodbye. Well those things and Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, which had been playing on loop in this little lobby since you’d arrived.

A woman excused you out of her elbow-range as she signed the guestbook, sending you a little off-kilter and almost into a stunning satin-decked wreath, but you managed to catch yourself on the windowsill, cooling your palms as your prints came back fogged over. You ran a chilled hand over your face and released a breath you’d been holding for minutes and hoped to God this wasn’t a dry wedding.

That’s when you heard the familiar scold of a best friend. “Eddie, top-button. Robin, no more singing. Honestly, how old are you two?”

Nancy Wheeler entered looking tighter-wound than she was a month ago, when you’d last seen her. Her bangs were cut short, hair black, thin fingers busying themselves with Eddie Munson’s bolo tie. Eddie looked miffed by the action, like a school boy embarrassed by his mom, but he daren’t move a muscle lest he get smacked. Beside them, Robin Buckley adjusted a tie of her own, flattened the lapels of her velvet blazer against her chest. 

And it was just them, just the three, alone in the entryway, Nancy fussing over their appearances before perfectly manicured nails went to ensure her oversized earrings were still clipped to her lobes. You glanced around one last time for Steve, but found a parking lot full of old people and void of any handsome young men whose hearts you’d broken. With a deep breath, and a clench of your shaking fists, you took a step toward them.

“Hey, strangers.” 

Robin let out a shriek that sent a pen flying from gasps at the guest book, and when Nancy shushed her, she snickered and wrapped her long arms around you to breathe a greeting into your ear, all clove cigarettes and patchouli. “Hey, stunner. Missed you.” 

“You too,” you smiled and let her rock you into her hug. You were almost her height in your heels.

She released you, her hair sticking to your lipstick, and you reached out to melt the wax off the strands with your fingertips. 

“Have you seen him?” Nancy asked, slipping in between you to give you the tightest hug you’d ever received. 

Your heart jolted a little in alarm, glancing over her head to the parking lot beyond. Still no Steve. When you pulled away, you noticed Nancy stood on the toes of her own high heels, stretched to get a good view of the chapel behind you, and you realized she wasn’t talking about the same person. “I’m sure Jonathan’s getting ready with the other groomsmen. He hasn’t been out this way.” 

Nancy’s gaze met yours then, a harsh glare in blue, but you saw the fear in her eyes, wondered if your stare mimicked her own. She squeezed your forearm and shrugged, as though she could care less, as though she didn’t sit in your apartment last month downing glasses of wine and confessing her and Jonathan had had a Thanksgiving tryst for the first time in seven years. “Oh well,” she nodded toward the hall where the guests had begun to funnel. “Shall we?” 

Another gust of wind fanned your hair, ruffled your skirt, and you glanced one last time at the nearly vacant lot before a scraggly head of hair blurred your view. You blinked until Eddie’s smile came into focus, head tilted to meet your gaze. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You breathed a nervous laugh and allowed his arms to envelope you in a hug. He was warm and a little damp under the arms, but distinctly Eddie, all murmured chuckles and cigarette smoke. But with your face buried into his hair, you sensed something else that made your heart stop, something familiar, something Steve.

“How long’s it been? Two years?” He asked, pulling away. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and you noticed the purple scarring that etched his throat, just beyond too tight of a collar. He must have seen your gaze, because he reached up to unbutton the top button and loosen the tie, two strands of leather and a carved silver demon’s face. You snorted.

“Yeah, just about.” The last time you’d seen Eddie had been on a New Years ski trip to the Harrington’s time share. Your memories of that trip were fogged with White Russians and too much time in a hot tub. You remembered Eddie’s bare ass, stark white, when he’d been dared to make a snow angel.

“You look beautiful as ever,” he flashed you those sharp canines. 

“You don’t clean up bad yourself,” you smiled, though his compliment had fallen a bit on deaf ears. You hadn’t dressed up for him. 

“Hey, don’t sound so shocked.” He scoffed, adjusting the lapels of an old blazer. It looked a bit small for his shoulders, a bit tight, and you swallowed. Maybe that’s why he smelled of Steve, maybe he’d borrowed it.

A groan sounded from behind you, and you pulled your attention from Eddie’s shoulders to see Nancy impatiently tapping her clutch to her hip, just outside the chapel door. She gestured for the two of you to hurry, and you felt Eddie’s hand on the small of your back to follow you inside. 

Robin had already shuffled into a pew near the back and was thumbing through a hymn book. Nancy shoved you out of the way before shuffling in beside her. 

“Wheeler said Robin and I aren’t allowed to sit next to each other,” Eddie mumbled just over your right ear, and you snorted before pulling yourself into the seat beside Nancy. He followed.

She snatched the hymn book out of Robin’s hand and tucked it back in its pocket. “Could you sit still for like two seconds?” 

“Could you?” Robin snapped. “Jesus, Nance, how much coke did you do this morning?” 

Appalled, Nancy shushed her. You snickered. Eddie wrapped his arm over your shoulder to lean in. “You have coke? And you aren’t sharing?” 

“I knew I should have left you in Hawkins,” she reached past you to tighten his tie again.

You leaned back against his arm to make eye contact with with Robin, who flashed you a goofy grin, and for just a moment, you felt at peace. You didn’t need Steve to fall back into the chaos of this friendship. You didn’t need stolen moments of romance, you needed Robin’s raspy laughter and Nancy’s neurosis to keep you grounded, to remind you why you agreed to go in the first place.

“So how are you?” Robin asked, propping her elbow to the back of pew. 

Eddie reached his fingers to tickle her, and you smiled, shrugged.

“Heard you had a good time in Louisville,” she waggled her eyebrows and your heart sank to your knees. 

“Robin,” Nancy hissed. She knew the whole story, from your perspective. You’d gone to Louisville for a conference, invited Steve to join you for the weekend, didn’t expect him to say what he’d said, to request what he did. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Robin about it. You should have known Steve would get to her first. 

“Steve says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, by the way,” Eddie pitched in from beside you. 

You felt your entire body heat with embarrassment, and you turned to face a Cheshire grin. Did everyone know?

“Jesus Fuck, you two!” Nancy squealed, and a woman in front of you turned to shush you all loudly, covering the ears of a little boy. 

With a groan, you buried your face in your hands and accepted the squeeze and shake of Eddie’s arm around your shoulder, the vibration of his chuckle against your right arm. 

Nancy’s apology was cut short by the chime of the organ, and the shuffle of guests in their seats. You craned to see the minister at the podium, a man with a swoosh of brown hair that had you letting out a frustrated exhale. He wouldn’t be here, but apparently he’d haunt you.

The groom entered first, linked arms with his mother, and you almost didn’t recognize him. Argyle was tightly pressed into a handsome sky blue tuxedo, luxurious hair pulled back into a low pony tail. A handlebar mustache traced his upper lip, and you half-expected it to fall off when he bent down to plant a kiss to his mother’s cheek. She was crying already.

“If it’s any consolation, he told me he was staying home in solidarity with Dustin,” came a whisper to your temple. 

“What?” You turned to see Eddie frowning back to you, face the most serious you’d seen it in years. 

Eddie nodded sideways to the bridesmaids and groomsmen that had begun to file in two-by-two, arms linked and sleeves ruffled. You watched head after head of beautiful brunette women glide by in lavender. “Since Dustin and Suzie broke up.” Eddie explained into your hair.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he didn’t shave for his best friend’s wedding.” Nancy scoffed under her breath beside you. 

Jonathan stood beside Argyle, warm smile stretched across his boyish features, just beneath the ghost of a mustache. It was clear he couldn’t quite grow one like the groom, tried as he might. He looked more like a French waiter in baby blue. You watched his eyes scan the crowd, and saw the smile widen when he spotted the four of you, and you joined Eddie in waggling your fingers his direction.

“Stop it,” Nancy snapped beside you, and you dropped your hand to your lap reflexively. 

You felt Eddie’s chuckle beside you again, warm, welcome. You turned to flash him a smile, and he winked. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise.” The minister announced, and you all shuffled your bags to your seats to stand. 

You wobbled a little, sandwiched tightly between Nancy and Eddie, and you groped for his hand for balance until his grasp tightened around yours, firm and unyielding, another safe space.

The music changed tempo, and the organ sounded the first few chords of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. You heard humming in front of you, felt the thrumming of fingers against the back of your hand, and you smiled at your friends’ inability to keep quiet. A few notes in, the bride entered. 

Eden was a vision in white, hidden beneath a massive veil and more rhinestones than you’d ever seen. She waltzed in on her father’s arm, a portly man who looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. He also donned a mustache. The detail made you smile, made you think of your own father, made you imagine yourself slow-stepping to the alter.

“Shit,” Nancy hissed from behind you, and you glanced to see her mopping at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. You laughed and were glad to see Robin reaching around to envelope Nancy in a side hug.

Nancy didn’t do well at weddings. Not since her almost nuptials four years ago in Boston. She’d been a month out, crying mascara stains into steamed linens while you and Robin called florists and caterers and DJs. Pete was a nice guy, but he wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the hard-hitting journalist she was with a mousy man like him under her thumb. It was right to set him free, and she knew it. 

You knew the feeling. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and the minister asked for you all to be seated. 

Eddie released your hand and slung his arm over your shoulders again to jostle Nancy. She sniffled and patted his hand. You gave a squeeze to the soft skin of her knee where her skirt split and exposed her nylons. 

“This better not be a dry wedding,” she muttered under her breath, and you laughed at the reflection of your own thoughts while the minister began reciting scriptures about love. 

—

You made it through the ceremony and down to the reception hall relatively unscathed, catching up with old friends and grateful to find many men behind an open bar. In fact, you were a whole three bites into your salad (and one glass of champagne in) before Eleven mentioned his name. 

“Where’s Steve?” 

A cherry tomato evaded your fork and bounced off rose colored linens. 

“Back in Hawkins like a loser,” Robin explained, crunching down on a crouton.

You tried and failed to do anything but stare at the food on your plate. 

“You guys are living together, right Eddie?” Will asked from across the table.

That caught your attention. You gaze shot to Eddie, who was already watching you, a sheepish look across wolfish features. He nodded and tongued at something in his molars, reaching for the beer bottle in front of him. “Uh, yeah. Since June.” He sipped. You watched the bubbles fizz in the amber liquid.

You supposed it had been an easy detail to miss in Louisville, what with all of the other ludicrous things Steve had spouted. 

“Get any time in the bathroom?” Mike snickered behind his own beer. 

Eddie smiled, shrugged. “Not really, but hey, beats paying out my ass in rent. You of all people should know that teachers don’t make dick for a salary, and turns out, neither do janitors, so…” He glanced sideways at you again before turning back to the salad in front of him. 

“Yeah, but I have a girlfriend who works for the government,” Mike concluded, tugging Eleven tighter under his arm. She rolled her eyes, but seemed pleased to belong to someone. 

You felt your own cheeks heat, and you went back to staring at your plate.

“Gross,” Robin managed between mouthfuls. 

“Are you and Steve…?” Eleven started, and panic rose in your chest, constricting your airflow, until you looked up and realized the girl was asking Eddie. He nearly choked on his own tomato, slamming his fist to his chest while Robin barked a laugh that stirred the attention of several tables nearby. 

“No, no,” Eddie wheezed, taking a chug of his beer. His hair shook around his face, and you noticed the shy smile building on the corners of his lips. “No, I’m not exactly Harrington’s type.” 

“Too emotionally available?” Nancy snipped from beside her brother. You shot her wide eyes, and she just shrugged, forking her own crouton between thin lips. Champagne made her bitchy. 

“Alright, enough about Dingus. He isn’t even here to defend himself.” Robin sighed, taking a sip from her own flute. 

You felt Eddie’s arm drape over the back of your chair again, the warmth of him mixing with the champagne that had begun to tingle the apples of your cheeks. “What about you, Robin? Any prospects?”

She sighed from your other side. “I have been talking to a girl in the Peace Corps.” There was trepidation to her tone.

“…but?” 

She glanced your direction and flashed a cheeky grin. “I, too, am into emotionally unavailable women.”

You picked up your rogue tomato and tossed her direction. She squawked and dodged it, and it rolled somewhere far off to be squished beneath a heel or kicked across the dance floor. 

“Hey, guys!” A cheerful greeting announced Jonathan’s arrival, and the man placed his hands on his younger brother’s broad shoulders. The table chorused a “Hello, Jonathan,” in greeting. Everyone but Nancy, you noticed. You made eyes at her, and she shot you a dirty look. 

“Dig the mustache, dude,” Eddie grinned, and you held back a snicker as Jonathan’s eyebrows raised.

He brought a hand up to scratch at the atrocity, and you noticed his gaze flicker toward Nancy. She remained stoic and focused on her first course. “Yeah? Argyle wanted us all to have a stache. He thought it’d be cool for pictures or something.”

“Yeah, man. It’s sick. I’ve been thinking about growing one myself,” Eddie scratched at the smooth skin above his upper lip, silver rings glinting in the center piece’s candlelight. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were before, supple beneath a broad nose. He’d arrived clean shaven, boyish face carved away in harsh edges since you were kids. Now he was all strong jaw and defined cheekbones and full lips, a sparkle in his brown eyes. 

You must have made a face because he flashed you his canines again. “What? You don’t think so?” 

You shrugged. “I think it’d throw off your,” you gestured to his being with your champagne flute. “Vibe.” 

“Yeah,” Robin nodded. “Too Mercury. You’re much more of a Brian May.” 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just compare me to the members of Queen,” Eddie grimaced and lifted his bottle to clink rims with your glass.

“Shit, that reminds me. I have to make a toast.” Jonathan groped for the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out folded pieces of paper. 

“Where are the bride and groom?”

You all glanced around. The happy couple seemed to be anywhere but the close quarters of the reception hall. 

“I believe they’re consummating their vows,” Jonathan flashed a shy smile. 

Eddie clinked his glass to yours again, and you laughed before taking another sip. Will, Mike, and Eleven groaned. 

“Cheers to the happy couple.” Robin raised her own glass, which again drew the attention from several tables. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Guess I better find them. I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” And you waved him off. He left with the soft graze of his hand to Nancy’s shoulder. When you met her gaze, you notice her face had flushed a deep pink, and she fought back a smile with an eye roll.

—

The band tapped out the rhythm to a soft jazz tune for all the happy old couples in the room, and Mike and Eleven. You watched her curly head pressed to his gangly chest and wondered if that ought to have been you. If things were different, if you hadn’t have panicked, if Steve had showed. You could still smell him, close, warm, a ghost that lingered. 

With a sigh, you opened your eyes back to the harsh lighting and glanced sideways at Eddie’s jacket on the chair beside you. You were tempted to check the inner pocket, to look for some sort of monogram, proof that it was Steve’s. Eddie had slipped out the side door with the bride and groom and the Byers boys. He mentioned something about a wedding present, and flashed you the fattest joint you’d seen in years.

 You resisted the pull of the jacket and sipped from your water glass, a vain attempt to curb the steadfast champagne hangover.

“Will that ever be me?” Nancy lamented from beneath her own champagne flute, sunk back into her chair with slumped shoulders and crossed arms, far past the rigidity of the afternoon. Glazed eyes stared longingly onto the dance floor. Robin warmed her bicep with a soft hand. 

“Of course it will, Nance,” you sat forward in your chair to comfort her. “You’re brilliant and beautiful, and you’ll make someone the perfect wife someday.” 

She offered the softest smile on the corners of her pink lips. 

“After all, you’re emotionally available,” you compared with a pointed finger. 

Robin groaned and took another sip of her drink, something chock full of cherries. “Both of you are catches, damnit, and I will not sit here and let you talk shit about my friends in this way.” She prodded each of you until smiles cracked on all three of your faces and you let out soft laughs. 

The song ended in a burst of applause from dancers who shared sweet kisses and evacuated the dance floor. Mike and Eleven approached with blushed cheeks and smiles they couldn’t wipe off their faces, and the next song really picked up its tempo. Eleven found her seat again, but Mike stood beside his sister with an outstretched hand.

“Come on, Nance. I’m sick of watching you get bitchier and bitchier.” He offered with that signature Wheeler smirk.

“Fuck off,” Nancy shot, but she gripped his fingers and allowed him to pull her to the dance floor. 

You watched them with a laugh until you felt a hand wrap around the backside of you chair. Robin had leaned closer. She watched you with sad eyes, big and blue, something mischievous in them. “What?” You narrowed your gaze. 

“Steve’s an idiot.” She commented easily, as though his name didn’t feel like a direct hit every time. 

You sighed. “Robin.” 

“No, I’m serious. He’s cocky, and he’ll never learn. Of course you weren’t going to uproot your life for him.” 

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid the panic slamming behind your ribcage. Steve had told her everything, and for some reason, you felt like a bad friend from keeping it from her. Maybe you worried she’d take his side. 

“And he’s not here because he’s a chicken. So there’s no reason you shouldn’t be having any fun.” She pried the water glass from your hand and set it beside your empty flute. “Can’t feel hungover if you keep drinking.” 

You laughed and watched Eleven’s fervent agreement, brown eyes glowing. “This is a party.”

“What’re you drinking?” Robin prodded you with a long finger again, swishing her glass your direction. 

You crinkled your nose, watching the ice melt droplets to the side of her glass, which beaded and splattered, darkening the tabletop beneath each shake. You chewed through her words, realizing that she was right. Steve had chosen to bail. You were the better person here, showing up for your friend despite your worry, your anxieties. Sure, you had wanted to see him, hoped to patch things up, silently prayed for a heated makeup in a coat closet or your themed hotel room. But he wasn’t here, and you were. 

You straightened your posture, gave Robin a firm nod. “Dirty Shirley, please.” 

“Atta girl,” Robin grinned and pushed off from her seat to head to the bar. Eleven yelled for her to wait up and traipsed behind her, leaving you alone at the table with half-drank glasses and Eddie’s suit jacket. 

You stared at the black lapel, wondering if it looked familiar. You glanced upward at Mike and Nancy, laughing with each swing of their arms over their heads. You swallowed and trailed your fingers along the hem, gripped at the shoulder pad. You stared back at the soft material, albeit a bit tattered. Maybe it wasn’t Steve’s. Maybe it was just secondhand. You made to flip the left side over, to look for an inscription, when a voice startled your hand away. 

“Dance with me.” 

You clutched at your chest, attempted to calm your breath, and spun to see Eddie with an outstretched hand and a wide grin. “When did you get back?” 

“Two seconds ago,” he shrugged, waggled his fingers your direction. “Get up. I want to dance.” 

There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun. A smile tugging at your cheeks, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to pull you to the dance floor. Only, when you reached the spot beside Nancy and Mike, the song ended and the tempo slowed again, something sweet and soft. Mike and Nancy High-fived. 

“Aw man, I was hoping for the fast one.” Eddie groaned, but he pressed a soft hand to the small of your waist and tucked you in tight, cheek pressed to your temple as you began an awkward, off-kilter sway, a bit too dramatic, outrageous. It made you laugh, and you felt his chuckle bubble against your chest. 

He was warm, but damp. His hair had been pulled back, low and loose at the base of his neck. Wet curls lined his cheeks and your own. He smelled of cigarettes and spearmint, and you pulled back to get a good look at his brown eyes, wide, but not blood shot.

“I thought you were going for a smoke,” you commented. 

He flashed a canine, shrugged. “I did. Nasty habit.” 

You cocked a brow. “I thought you were going to smoke.” You reiterated, glancing around the room to ensure the other guests hadn’t caught the inflection in your voice. You were pleasantly surprised to find Nancy tucked into Will’s chest. The poor boy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he had a slaphappy smile etched over his features. Nancy rolled her eyes at you, but she was smiling too.

“I let them have all the fun,” Eddie explained, his voice a low rumble against your chest.

You smiled, allowed yourself to drape a little closer, your own hand warm in his. “Why? This is a party, after all.”

His shoulder raised in a shrug under your palm. “Guess I’m growing up.” 

You pulled back again to see the sly smile carving into his cheeks, and you both laughed again before he tucked you back under his chin. 

—

You were swung around for six full songs, pink vodka and Sprite splashing the dance floor, and abdomen in stitches from raucous laughter, before you groaned about sore ankles and were all but carried back to your seat. You set your drink next to your discarded purse on the tabletop and slumped into your seat, cheeks flushed and aching. You hadn’t had that much fun in ages.

“So much for keeping your top-button done,” Robin commented as you approached.

You followed her point to Eddie’s bare chest. You hadn’t realized his bolo Demon had nearly slid off, buttons undone to expose a litany of scars around a smattering of dark curls. A few faded tattoos lended to the chaos, shiny. 

“It’s freaking hot.” He excused himself, slumping into the seat beside you, that taunting jacket swaying under his weight.   

“Eddie, I didn’t know you were such a voracious dancer,” Nancy waggled her eyebrows over her own drink. 

Eddie flashed his signature grin and pointed a finger her direction. “You’re next, Wheeler. After I catch my breath.” His chest was heaving. The last number was upbeat, somewhat of a swing, and he definitely prided himself in attempting to throw you around. It was sloppy, to say the least, but fun. 

“Watch your legs, Nance,” you rubbed at a Charlie horse smarting at your calf from your heels. “He’s a kicker.” 

“I am not!” Eddie gawped, and you squealed when he reached to encircle your ankle and pull it into his lap. Surprisingly agile fingers pulled your strap from its buckle, and he slipped your shoe to the ground, relief flooding swollen toes. You rolled your ankle in his grasp, and strong hands melted the muscles of your calf, coaxing out the tight knot that resided there. 

You were a little light-headed, and the buzz of alcohol made it difficult to contain a sound of delight. You clenched to stop yourself from moaning, and hissed when your calf tightened further.

“Relax, will you?” Eddie mumbled, all tease. 

You laughed and settled your shoulders, slid further down the cool metal chair.

He released one leg and tapped the other, and you complied, trying to ignore the prickle of gooseflesh beneath his knuckles as they grazed your ankle. 

You hadn’t been pampered like this in months, not since Steve offered you an early morning favor you couldn’t refused. You felt your cheeks warm, and you licked the cherry from your bottom lip, watching the glint off Eddie’s rings with each stroke, eyes unfocused. It was definitely the alcohol talking, but you’d always felt safe in Eddie’s hands, cared for, well-looked after. 

He tilted his head to face you, curls falling around his face. He shook them out of big, brown eyes, cheeks creasing in a smile. “Better?” 

You hummed a thanks and tucked your toes back around the leg of your chair, out of his grasp. 

You watched, breathless, as his eyes raked your form, his own cheeks flushing, before he slapped his hands to his knees and huffed a breath. “Ready, Nance?”

Nancy groaned, but pushed herself to her feet, downing the rest of her cup before she allowed Eddie to drag her out onto the dance floor. You never noticed how tall he was, slender yet firm, dwarfing Nancy’s tiny frame as he took her petite hand into his, his other hand wide against her lower back. 

“Feeling better?” Robin pulled your attention. She had mischief in her eyes, and she jiggled her glass in the air between you. 

She was feeling toasty, you could tell by the rouge of her cheeks, the stained of her lips. Mike and Eleven spoke in giggles behind hands, playing Will at a game of Go-Fish with hole-punched cards he’d procured at some point. Jonathan sat beside them, stoned as all Hell, with a silly grin just beneath that God awful mustache. You felt warm, you felt at home. And for the first time in seven years, that feeling didn’t require Steve. 

You released a shy smile, unable to hide it, and lifted your glass to clink with her own. “Much. Thank you.”

—

The bride and groom left in a flurry of sparklers, tucked into a bright yellow van, waving their goodbyes with blown kisses and dazed looks on their faces. The guests made their exits into breath-steaming cold, and you found yourself against the frigid hood of your car, sipping a stolen Dirty Shirley with Eddie’s jacket thrown over your shoulders. Grenadine dripped from a maraschino cherry, sticky-sweet, as Eddie lifted it from your glass and popped it between plump lips. It burst between his molars, and he procured the stem from between his front teeth. 

“Can you tie it into a knot?”

His brows furrowed into the most dramatic scold you’d ever seen, and he tossed the stem to the ground between your feet. “I’m not giving away all of my secrets.” 

You warmed at the insinuation and fingered around melting ice for the second cherry, avoiding his gaze. When you grasped the stem, he elbowed your side, almost causing you to fling it from the cup. He chuckled at the indignant noise that fell from between your lips. 

“Sorry,” he grinned, and you noticed his eyes lingered on your lips when you put the cherry in your mouth. 

You both looked away, facing out at the winter night. The stars were brighter here, sky bigger. Shirley had warmed your insides, and Eddie’s jacket had warmed you out. You placed cold fingertips to the embroidered letters on the inside pocket, pretended you couldn’t feel a cursive SFH. 

“So,” Eddie mumbled, reaching into the jacket pocket at your hip. You jumped under his touch, and he procured a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, shaking it your direction. “Want a smoke?” 

You declined the offer, tossing your cherry stem into your glass while the fruit popped syrupy sweet between your teeth, soaked with the sting of vodka. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back though.” He nodded off toward the side building, courteous. Before he stepped away, though, he turned to face you, scratching at the back of his neck. You noticed a soft blush burning at his cheeks, the cold having already nipped his nose a soft pink. “Hey so, would you maybe want to come back to my room with me?”

You buzzed on his words, the softest he’d spoken, the smallest he seemed. You chewed on the cherry and swallowed with a smile, but before you could respond, he clarified. 

“I mean, you know because I have that fridge full of mini-bottles of alcohol and peanuts, and the room’s on Harrington’s card, so we really can’t let that go to waste.”

You hoped your face didn’t falter from the sound of his name, his ever-presence. You swallowed again, took a the final few sips of your drink, watered down, and shrugged. “Sure, Eddie.” 

“Great,” he breathed, all fog. “See you in a minute?” 

You nodded. “I’ll be here.” And he disappeared around the corner, pulling a cigarette between his lips. Maybe you should have joined him, you could have used the nicotine to calm your sudden nerves. You dumped your ice beside you, water splashing your nylons and crossed your arms over your chest, one again feeling for the soft embroidered letters. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back.

Had he been there, you might be doing the same right now, hunkered under his jacket, waiting for a quick smoke before he took you back to his room. Steve had always been warm hands and lingered kisses, flirtation, toeing the line. With Steve it was always about not getting caught, but not caring if you did. It was young and reckless, and now you were older and more responsible, and terrified of settling down. 

“Hey, babe. Will and I are tucking in for the night,” Robin approached with Will linked to her arm. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped, pupils still slightly blown.

You raised your brows at Robin. “And Nancy?” 

Robin cracked a sly smile. Will groaned in disgust. 

“Good for her,” you snorted. 

Robin nodded, pushing Will in the direction of her car with the promise of pizza. She turned to you with an arm outstretched, ready to accept your tight hug. “Will I see you soon?” 

“I hope,” you shrugged. “Come see me for your birthday?” 

“Hawkins,” she sighed into your ear, squeezing you tight. All warm and patchouli and Robin. “But I’ll be in DC around Easter. Can we meet then?” 

You were that age, where you scheduled time with your friends, where you didn’t have fun anymore, where life had begun to slow down. You swallowed and pulled away, holding her padded shoulders at arm’s length. “Robin?” Your pulse began to quicken.

“Yeah, babe?” 

You glanced over her shoulder at a skyward billow of smoke. “I’m going back to Eddie’s room with him.” 

Her eyes widened, and you worried it might be judgement, disappointment, until her lips cracked into a grin. “Holy shit.” She laughed. 

You nodded. “Holy shit.” 

“Tell me every gory detail, please? Call me the moment you get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea of details, of Eddie’s rumbled voice, of cigarettes and spearmint and cherry. Your ankles wobbled and Robin caught you with a laugh.

“You good to drive?”

Eddie was. You didn’t think you saw him drink anything after the beer. He toasted with water.

You tightened the jacket around yourself, thumbing at the letters on the inside pocket. “Robin, do you think…” You weren’t even sure what you were asking. “I mean, they’re roommates.” You huffed, gesturing off in Eddie’s direction. 

Robin rolled her eyes, gave your wrists a tight squeeze. “The three of you are consenting adults,” her voice rasped with exhaustion, the end of a great night. “You asked Steve to come, and he didn’t. That’s on him.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Steve really did tell her everything. 

“Tell me something.”

You hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Eddie’s approaching frame.

“Do you want to marry Steve?” 

That familiar panic clawed at your chest, and you staggered further into her, the mountain air creating static cling between your nylons and the chiffon of your skirt. It had been a question you’d been asking yourself over and over again for months now, a question that provided you with nothing but hurt, confusion, a question for people your age. 

You grit your teeth, stood up straight, shook your head. “No. At least, not right now.” 

She smiled at that, another sweet, unexpected smile, one bathed in mischief. “Good. It’s important to have fun while you’re still young.” 

—

Eddie lead you into his room in a flurry of apologies, lifting an explosion of clothes off various pieces of furniture to shove into his suitcase. The room was large, too opulent for Eddie’s taste, with pastel wallpaper and a balcony overlooking snow-topped mountains. Or, you’d assumed it would in daylight. Currently, honeyed street lamps glowed at gauzy curtains, the city was pitch black beyond and below.

The thing that struck you the most was the double beds, one pristine and pressed, the other haphazardly shoved together, a crease where Eddie’s body had lain the night before. Steve had booked the room for two. You wondered how long ago, and at what point he changed his mind. 

“Ta-da,” Eddie gestured to the open space before giving the grand tour. “Bathroom,” all peach marble and gold fixtures. “Television, with pay-per-view.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And… snacks.” He swung open the door to the mini fridge and reached in to pull out a few mini bottles of vodka. They clinked against his silver rings. 

Anxiety bubbled in you, that familiar precipice of a storm. It tingled in your fingertips, thundered your heartbeat in your ears. It was electric like static shock clinging to your nylons. You took a few uneasy steps forward, coughed a laugh. 

Eddie tossed the liquor bottles to the unmade bed and tugged at the Demon medallion around his neck. It was barely on by now, scooped neck of a white tank top visible low on his chest. Eddie was rough around the edges, sticky, stretched like taffy over wiry limbs. He moved with umph, a cartoon character. He pulled his bolo tie over his head and deposited it to the bedside table nearest a phone, a lamp, a pad of paper with the hotel’s logo. 

“Good for Nancy and Jonathan, huh?” He commented, stirring your attention back to the present, back to the fun evening you had, removing the pressure of it all. 

You laughed, tossed your clutch to a side table, leaned against a wall to unbuckle shoes and release your aching toes. “I know, right? She needed it.”

“Did you know they hooked up over Thanksgiving?” Eddie offered like a secret, rolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. The tank top beneath clung to bits of him that sweat through, see-through, exposing bits of purpled flesh, like Steve’s.

You sucked in your cheeks and wiggled your toes against the carpet, strode to the mini fridge to find a bag of M&Ms. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll here about tonight for the next three months.” You shook the bag his direction, and when he held his hands out to catch it, you tossed and grabbed yourself another bag. 

“What? You don’t think they’ll be together forever after this?” Eddie snickered, tearing open his bag from the center. The plastic split and a few candy-coated chocolates pelted the carpet, but he kicked them under the unmade bed and threw himself onto it with all of the flair for dramatics he was famous for. The comforter sighed under him.

You snorted, shrugged, tore open the corner of your own bag, and crawled to rest against the headboard beside him. You popped a green one into your mouth, and a brown. They tasted a bit stale, and odd refrigerated, but the crunch between your teeth was satisfying enough.

“Hey, so,” Eddie pulled himself upward and shifted onto his side to face you, all long limbs and chocolate breath, and you turned to catch watchful brown eyes. “I know I’m a thousand percent going to regret asking this,” he licked the corner of his plump, pink lips. “But what exactly happened in Louisville?” 

You nearly choked. Eddie laughed as you sputtered, and he darted from his spot with an apology on his lips to pull a sealed plastic water bottle from the fridge. You laughed with him, tears forming at your eyes while you twisted the cap off and sat up for a drink and a gasp of fresh air. 

“That bad, huh?” He settled beside you again, his surprisingly weight teetering you on your side. 

“Steve didn’t tell you?” You sipped, licked chocolate from your teeth. 

Eddie’s eyes were soft, innocent, head tilted to yours as he shook the curls from his eyelashes. “He didn’t say much, just came back grumpier than usual. Robin yelled at him the other day because every time we mention you, he gets all… weird. Quiet. Obnoxious.” His lips split in a grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was concerned, concerned for his friend, for you too.

You took a deep breath, acknowledged the idea of a sullen Steve, moping around at your expense. You thought back to that blessed weekend, boring conference room meetings anxiously awaiting 5 o’clock when you could stumble back into a hotel room, not unlike this one, unzipping your dress and soaking in Steve Harrington’s all-encompassing affection. All weekend, he had been soft words and sweet sounds and roaming hands, until the end.

And then you fought. God, you’d never fought anyone like that. 

“Steve asked me to marry him.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to choke. “I’m sorry?” 

You shrugged, tugged at a run in the chiffon of your pleated skirt. “Well, he more told me to marry him than asked. There wasn’t a ring or anything.” You groaned and slammed your head back into the padded headboard. “He wanted to try long distance, and when I said no, he told me to marry him, told me to move to Hawkins, promised to take care of me. And Jesus, Eddie, no offense to Hawkins or its residence, but you know I can’t do that. I mean, after the Earthquake? After all that happened?” You were rambling, but you hadn’t talked about it. Not since you spewed to Nancy, and that was months ago.

“No, I get it,” Eddie sighed, tugging his hair tie from his end to run his fingers through scraggly hair. “I’m only there for Wayne, and half the time, I think he’s staying for me. Hawkins is like a black hole.” 

“Exactly!” You poured a few more M&Ms into your hand and ate them one-by-one. “And like, I obviously like Steve. I mean, he was my first kiss, my prom date. We have history, you know? I think that’s why I know him so well.”

Eddie hummed in response, settled back down beside you, shoulder to shoulder. He tossed a candy, missed his mouth. It settled somewhere between you. 

“Steve needs the nuclear family. He needs a stay-at-home wife and six kids, a golden retriever out back.” You mused. You almost hated that you saw yourself in the role, could see yourself melding perfectly into it, had been imagining it for months and months. 

Eddie just let you speak, continued to shuffle chocolate into his hand and down it. 

You elbowed him. “What, no input here?” 

He crunched a few bites, mouth full, and shrugged. He pulled your water bottle from your hand to chase the chocolate coating his mouth, and took a minute to compose his thoughts before he said. “Can I be totally honest with you?”

“Please,” you nodded, tilting yourself to face him. 

He glanced your direction for a split second, but looked outward, gesturing to the room, to his invisible audience. “I mean, I obviously want you both to be happy. He’s one of my best friends. We share a toilet, for Christ’s sake.” 

You chuckled at the visual.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, and he glanced back at you again. You watched his Adam’s apple bob. “But uh… I’m feeling really selfish tonight.” 

You felt it again at his words, that buzz of electricity to your fingertips. “Yeah?” Was all you could manage. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, looked away, gestured out to the neatly pressed bed to your right. “I mean, he’s not here. He could have fought for you, and he chose to be a coward and stay home, and I feel like kind of a dick because I’m just so grateful I finally have you to myself.” 

You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest before he turned to face you again, his eyes big and brown and watching you watch him. 

“Because honestly? It’s been killing me to fight for your attention when Harrington’s around. I mean, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you offered to tutor me sophomore year.”

You licked the crease between your lips, saw it catch his gaze, watched him do the same. A shiver slipped down your spine. “You could try now. If you want.” 

A soft sound spilled from his mouth, and his brows furrowed neatly. “Are you sure?” 

You smiled, leaned back against the headboard, and whispered, “Kiss me, Eddie.” 

His lips were soft, pillowy, all-encompassing. He overtook your space, crowded you with a cascade of curls and a firm hand to the headboard above your head, his other grazing your ribcage, and you leaned into the taste of chocolate and spearmint. He was gentle, timid, a stark polar opposite from the dramatic flair of the man you’d grown accustomed to, a facade, perhaps. 

His nose nuzzled your own, and your cheek, and you breathed a warm smile to his temple when his lips found the hollow at your ear. “Can I?” He whispered, and you muttered an allowance before feeling warm, soft kisses down the plane of your throat to the dips of your clavicle. 

You pushed at his shoulders, unraveling the collar of his shirt until he was pulling away to yank folded sleeves down his forearms. His lean frame was sinew and faded ink and a smattering of scars that matched a few of your own.

He pulled his tank over his head next, not one to waste time, and you trailed your fingers along tight flesh from ribcage to hipbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps along pale skin. With a groan, he dipped back to capture your lips in a kiss again. You heard the scatter of M&Ms across the side table, felt the shift of the bed as he gripped your hips and pulled you downward until your head rested on a cotton pillowcase. 

“I meant it when I told you you were beautiful,” he muttered to your lips, hands ghosting your thighs as he made for the waist band of your nylons beneath your dress. 

You felt self-conscious about the creases left to your skin there, but nimble fingers rolled the thin material down past your knees, and you watched it waft to the floor. Firm hands quickly replaced it, kneading at aching leg muscles, pinching the meat of your thighs between ringed fingers. You moaned into an open mouth. 

“You deserve to be worshipped.” He sighed into your shoulder.

He was right. You deserved to have fun, to enjoy your friend’s wedding, to party, to live a little. You deserved to not worry about the ever-present stress of adulthood. You deserved to sink into a cushy mattress and clutch curls as a man buried his face into you, as a man praised you, as a man pleased you. 

You held chiffon pleats to your thighs, wished you’d shaved, felt pillowy lips to the crux of your hips, tried not to compare calloused hands to smooth ones. You saw stars, eyes and jaw slammed shut, and tried not to compare a round-tipped nose to a flat one. You allowed Eddie to kiss you, lips tacky, breath hot, and tried not to compare sweet sounds to filthy ones. 

Eddie was all lips, where Steve was all hands. Eddie was strong shoulders, nimble fingers, and Steve was rhythm and hips and thighs. Eddie was whispered truths and damp and sticky sweet, and Steve was furrowed brow and grit teeth, determined. Eddie let you pin him, hair splayed across a creased pillowcase, your small hands pressed to the faded ink on his chest, tracing lines with manicured fingertips. Steve would have pinned you wrists over your head. 

“Can I hold you?” Eddie asked, when you were all spent and sweating and breathless, curls stuck to his temples, eyelids heavy.

You sunk into spindly arms, your legs tangled but spread wide across an uneven bedspread. You dress has been discarded beneath the side table. The soft lamplight accentuated the shadows, a honeyed glow pooling in from the patio beyond. 

Something heavy rattled in you, guilt perhaps, and you released a shaky breath. 

“Need a smoke?” Eddie breathed into your neck, that warm chuckle, friendly, like he understood, that safe space to bring you back to Earth. 

You tucked his hand tighter into your ribcage beneath your breasts, a buoy tying you to the reality of the day, of your life, to the consequences of your actions. 

You fell asleep to the low, rumbling hum of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love. 

---

A/N: This has been floating around my head for ages, and for some reason, it chose this week to finally come out, and it's so vastly different from what I had planned. Listen, I'm a Steve girl, trust me. I know it may not seem like it, but I'm really, really a Steve girl. But Eddie's just so... I just love him sometimes, okay?

Also I just really felt like this was so about the friendship between them all. If you can't tell, I think I'm in love with Robin and Nancy. Let me know what you think. Love you forever and ever. xo Amanda

[suleikashideaway]

All this love for ff8 flying around tumblr right now has got me thinking. 

So many people were so moved by this game that twenty-five years later we’re all banging our fists on the table and crying about it? It leaves me stunned. For so long I thought I was the only one. 

[Huge text post under the cut. As I wrote this I realized just how much soul-baring I was doing. This was emotional to write and just as emotional to share. Thank you to those of you who bravely paved the way with your personal stories so that I would feel strong enough to do the same. Sorry this got stupid-long lol]

My own journey with ff8, as it turns out, is very much tied to my journey in discovering writing. It overwhelms me to think of how my life is so much better thanks to both things. And how my life was potentially saved by both things.

Back in the early aughts I was not privileged enough to have any gaming consoles. My best friend, though, had just gotten a PS1 and the very first game she had was ff8. I would go over to her house every single Sunday afternoon and sit, transfixed, as she played through it. I had never seen anything like it before. We would read the dialogue boxes out loud (I was always Selphie, Zell, and Rinoa, she was always Squall, Irvine, and Quistis) and she was kind enough to save the important cut scenes on separate memory slots so I could see whatever she had played throughout the week. 

I remember adoring the cutesyness of Squall and Rinoa’s dynamic and crying when I saw the ending. But there was something more to it. I felt such an intense desire to have the game for myself, to play it alone and absorb everything in it. We finally got a little money and got a PS1, but my mom would only get games that the whole family could enjoy, so it was Crash and Spyro for a long time until I finally, finally got ff8 for myself. 

The intensity of Squall and Rinoa’s drama and romance was so important to my passionate little teenaged heart. He jumped out into space to save her!! And she brought him back from time compression with just her love!!! It was the story that set the bar for romantic love. 

And Squall…damn, I remember sitting, unblinking, at the scene when he’s curled up in bed…At age sixteen, seventeen, watching Squall voice these things was big:

“I’m fine all by myself now. I have all the skills I need to survive. I’m not a child anymore. That’s a lie. I don’t know anything. I’m confused.”

At the time, I didn’t know why I was so spellbound by that scene, and many of the other scenes of Squall’s inner monologues, but it makes so much sense now. I was a child made to believe I had to be fully competent and capable from way too young an age, parentified and emotionally stunted, and I was about to be kicked out into the world when I didn’t know a single fucking thing about it. 

But my love for ff8 was very private. I read some fanfic to extend that feeling of being in Squall and Rinoa’s world, but other than that, I never outwardly expressed how much this game stuck with me. I was definitely an awkward, shy kid, and luckily I found a group of weirdos in high school who had no fear in sharing their love for things like video games and anime and what-have-you. But still! Even with that! I barely engaged with the few friends who had a love for ff8. It was all very intimate for me. It was my private world. And part of me was scared of taking it too far, even amongst the nerds who took everything too far. I didn’t want to stand out in that way. I had the overwhelming urge to appear normal, and sane. And anyway I didn’t know how to articulate it.

There is a scene from my college years that is so burned in my memory and I think highlights this. I was in a very small major and so I had all the same classes with the same small group of people. In these classes was a very cool girl who I admired. One day someone brought up video games and I remember feeling paralyzed, like, “I can’t bring up my weirdly intense passion for this game! Everyone will think I’m so strange!” so I lied and said I had never played a single video game in my life. And in comes Cool Girl and starts going on and on about how much she loved final fantasy 8 and I could not fathom it. I stayed silent. I was not cool enough to go back on my lie and admit that I was just as into that game, if not more into it, and that I still thought about it regularly.

I kept my love of the game to myself, and played it once or twice when I went home on college breaks. It was enough. I was busy, and burnt out, and turns out, severely depressed on top of it all. 

That first major depressive episode lasted years. I managed to get out of it on my own through a variety of life experiences and found myself in my mid-twenties, looking for love. And what was more, I knew I had to find my Squall. I had to find someone who would constantly be willing to save me from my own flightiness, from my overly-passionate heart that didn’t think things through and constantly caused my own messes, and tell me (with brutal honesty) when to knock my shit off.

And I found him!

What I didn’t know is that I was really Rinoa all along. And Rinoa, my friends, cinnamon roll that she is, has a lot of shit to work out, too. 

It was helpful as I started spiraling into depression again: what if Rinoa and Squall were together and happy, but Rinoa had a major emotional breakdown in her late twenties? I imagined it obsessively. Thinking of their future was the only way I could fall asleep at night. (lol, any of this sound familiar, @angelosearch? <3)

Their story took such a hold on me. I could feel it wanting to scream itself out of my fingertips to the point that I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I started secretly typing it up, and every time I sat at the keys, I felt better.

And I stopped disassociating. I started sleeping better. I stopped hiding in the bathroom to cry at all hours of the day. I stopped thinking that I didn’t deserve to be here. I stopped therapy. 

I felt like I had been given a second chance at life. 

About a year ago, I was finally ready to consider posting my ff8 fanfic to share with the world. I had been writing it for over a year, and brewing it in my head for (get this) about eight years before that.

I could tell, though, that I was not a Good Writer. So I put on my bravest face and went searching for a beta. I immediately found one, my amazing @failed221b-chill, who I’ve gushed about before. And my world blossomed. I discovered the true joy that writing brings me, and even just writing this essay is way better than any therapy session I’ve ever had. 

I’m finally coming into my own. I’m finally realizing I had no reason to hide my passionate self. I have to share my inner world - it’s what makes me who I am, and only in that way can I truly connect with those around me. In fact, I literally went and bought an ff8 tank top and wore it in public yesterday and felt like a fucking superhero for doing so. 

So. All that said. I’m so incredibly grateful to be here in this moment, sharing all this love for a game that clearly has affected so many lives for the better. Happy anniversary, Final Fantasy VIII! And to anyone who read this far, I love you.

[angstymilfy]

Story time:

My Mom married my step-dad when I was 8 years old. He never tried to be my “dad,” he was just this cool guy hanging around. He taught me how to play poker. He took pity on 5th grade me, (that was forced to wear clothes my Mom made while trying to also fit in at a new school,) and bought me a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and a monogrammed sweater. And this was when they were the very epitome of cool, y’all. Later, he taught me how to drive, then he taught me how to drink.

He had 3 boys, all 18+ when I came into the family (ranging from 10-15 years my senior), so we never lived together. But over the years I had spent a lot of holidays, and shared a lot of backyard bbqs with them. I have favorite memories of each: the youngest, only 10 years older, I stayed with him a lot the summer I turned 18. Because he was still living like a teenager and we partied together. The middle one, he’s 12 years older and once told me, (probably 20 years after I’d been in the family), one night when he was shithouse drunk “you look like a duck and you quack like a duck…” His way of telling me I fit in/was one of them. And the oldest one got a 14 year old me drunk for the first time with a bottle of peach schnapps (that I thought tasted like nehi and drank an entire 5th of by myself), at a party our parents were having.

So imagine my surprise when I found out today, that my stepdad died two weeks ago! 😮 And nobody told me! To get such a strong, and insulting message that “you don’t belong,” is…..insult to injury, really.

But I worried they would do that when Mom left him a little over a year ago, after 41 years together, because he was losing his mind and turning increasingly violent to her. He had fully turned on her; he suddenly decided she was the enemy, and he couldn’t trust her. He was raging out all the time and banging tables and slamming his fists into shit, and then going and taking her name off accounts, and calling the cops on her for literally no reason (he told them he thought she was going to kill him in his sleep? and they hadn’t even been arguing or anything. He was just losing it THAT badly). But his boys wouldn’t help her. He had them controlling everything (because of the weird trust thing) but they wouldn’t help Mom or even stop supplying my stepdad with weapons every time Mom took one away. It’s like they WANTED him to shoot her. But it became a totally untenable situation and thankfully Mom exited after he tried to have her arrested, before it got any worse.

That’s it. All she did was be his whipping post and private nurse until she couldn’t anymore. And they basically have been at war with her ever since. Just turned on her like wild dogs. None of them were who we thought they were at all, it turns out.

Now I’m scared they may try to hurt her if they don’t approve of how the estate is settled. The divorce was still in process so Mom is still legally his wife. So I’m anxious as shit about how all that will shake out. Hurt nobody cared enough about me or anyone in my family to even let us know he died. And sad that I won’t ever get to see him again. Or any of them. Even though it turns out they’re all terrible people, these were still people who have been in my life since I was 8 years old. How can they just….turn on her like that? Then not even acknowledge I exist? They knew I had a special relationship with their Dad. Why wouldn’t they tell me he’d passed and give me the opportunity to pay my respects?

……

I’m still so shocked he’s gone.

Even though I shouldn’t be. His health had been deteriorating so it was just a matter of time. But it still felt like it came out of the blue today.

Which would make Christmas 22 the last time I saw him (she left him in feb after that). He’d been super argumentative with Mom all day and I was telling him not to be riling her up, cause he “knows how she gets” wink wink. He and I were always in some sort of rebellious cahoots against Mom’s rules and would 😉 our cahootedness to each other. But that time I was just trying to get him to think he was in on some cahoots with me, to chill and quit fighting with her.

So I guess the last thing I said to him was “be good,” and gave him a look that said “we both know you’re a handful.”

…..

Big sigh 😔

I don’t know what I’m feeling right now y’all. It’s a weird mix of a lot of different things.

I sound crazy. I just needed to vent all this SOMEWHERE.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

House of Mouse AU: Yuu and the Princess and the Frog Characters

*bangs fists on table* Mum Tiana! Mum Tiana! Mum Tiana!

I always see Tiana as the mum friend of the princesses and that is absolutely correct. She sees Yuu and is like: is anyone going to mother her? *Minnie and several other characters are about to raise their hands* No? Okay! Here sweetie, have some gumbo and beignets 😊

She just sees how hard Yuu works in a world where all odds seem to be against her and she’s still  smiling and making due with what she has when all she has is literally nothing just so touched. Besides she knows a thing or two about the restaurant business - if Yuu looks like she needs a hand, Tiana will be there to help and to remind her to take a break. And nobody is going to interrupt that break if they don’t want to answer to her.

Yuu definitely has a job offer for Tiana’s Place 

She’s not going to let Yuu get bullied by anyone either. When she first found out about Sam and his friends from the other side, alarm bells started ringing but Yuu was quick to comfort her by saying how Sam is like a cool protective older brother and how he gives her discounts and stuff and would never let harm come to her so she reluctantly lets it go. But don’t worry, she’s friends with an alligator and is a master at knife-wielding (and she has many knives) and as Ralph Breaks the Internet has taught us, she is not afraid to use a rolling pin.

Dr Facilier literally gave Yuu a grin and before he could open his mouth, Tiana had gently taken Yuu’s hand and guided her away whilst giving the shadow man a deathly glare.

Charlotte adores Yuu. She’s like the fun aunt that always brings super expensive presents every time she visits. Every time Yuu stops at her table, she’s just bursting with happy energy, ready to hear about all of the boys at NRC.

Also, side note: 

Prince Naveen/Charlotte La Bouff 🤝 Kalim Al Asim

*Willing to buy a country for Tiana/Yuu’s happiness*

When Naveen isn’t busy giving his wife the biggest heart eyes ever, being chaotic with Aladdin and Eugene or getting too invested in the Yuu ship war, he’s just ready to give Yuu all of the appreciation in the world because damn, he was worried when his parents cut him off as a grown man but Yuu is literally a penniless teenager living in a dangerous, broken down, abandoned building with no way of contacting her friends/family/loved ones and she has no magic in a world where literally everyone else has magic and she’s an only girl in an all boys school (and yeah, Naveen might have been an ignorant, carefree party boy who flirted with literally everyone but he knows that there are guys out there who are dangerous. Just because he’s very big on consent doesn’t mean the rest of the world is).

Like he literally sees this sweet, kind girl and he and Charlotte are already making kidnapping adoption plans.

Tiana: *right when she and her husband are about to enter the club* Now honey, I know that you think that Yuu would be happier with us but remember she has her friends and sort-of adoptive father back at her school and kidnapping is illegal here. And yes, it is still considered kidnapping even if she comes willingly.

Louis and Ray love Yuu. They work with Naveen to compose the most incredible song for when it’s time for her and her suitor to dance together (the PatF gang all ship KalimYuu by the way)

Dr Facilier thinks Yuu is cool. Both of them are living with disadvantages and don’t really have that much control over their lives - only instead of living with resentment like he does, she just marches on. She knows better than to make a deal with him though *Azul memories intensify* but he’s a really charming and charismatic guy. He’s fun to hang around with when you watch out for him trying to swindle you. Yuu always talks about Sam and how cool she finds him and his shadows and the two of them talk about voodoo and hoodoo and yay *new friend unlocked*

He teaches her card tricks so that she can show off to Ace

@adrianasunderworld

[mushythefroggie]

Fem!Teen Reader X Armed Detective Agency

The Traveling Cat Chronicles, Prolouge

.

.

TW: Blood, Abuse, stuff that I don't know, reader is a child/teenager, not aesthetically decorated(sorry hick hick), other stuff probably(tell me if I missed something), shorter than chuuya

A/N: First story....hahahhahahahahaha.....HELP WHY DID I WRITE THIS...I was sick while writing this, spare me from the corrections...I actually have no idea how to organize this, but wish me luck frfr!!, i spent 5 minutes telling myself to just post this.....

  You were dying inside. Truely. It all started at Thanksgiving dinner.

Your little cousin had been curious about special abilities. And, while there was no problem about talking about this, the question had been directed at you. All of your family looked at you.

All. Of. Them.

You had never really liked your family. But, as a 13-year-old girl, what did you know? You were never valued. They would all hold back on important topics that needed to be discussed when you were around. They thought that since you were “So Young,” you had to have your innocence kept, like a prisoner inside a cage.

But, the truth was, you really understood more about these topics than they did. They thought that a child such as yourself was so innocent? Yeah, that was far from the truth. You’d seen, heard, and smelt things in your life that they would probably be unable to handle and run away at at a single glance.

And somehow, despite them acting like your innocence needed to be caged, you were abused. A lot. If you said something they didn’t like? You were beat up until you were begging for mercy. You were busy with something when they asked you to do another? You were beat until you passed out. You wanted to run. Really, truely. You wanted to run away, but you couldn’t. You could disappear for hours at a time, but you couldn't just run away from home. You would be found and beaten to death if you did, you were sure of it.

But still, as those eyes were turned to you, you were given a chance. A chance to show to them that you knew more than they allowed you to talk about. And well, you were interrupted. By your uncle. 

You just sighed, picking at your mashed potatoes as his booming voice, similar to loudspeaker, let out the annoying sounds of ignorance to the topic at hand. “Hah, well!” Your uncle snickered. “Abilities are special powers that certain people can use.” Your uncle said, then leaned back on his chair again.

That was all he knew, really? While it was, in fact, what they were, he could’ve told her about the different types of abilities, about the people who use them, about how some people can’t control them, maybe about how it’s so unfair if you had a naturally dangerous ability…? 

No, he didn’t know about it, but you did. And you spoke up. “Yes,” You said, slightly smiling at the thought of what your familys’ facial expressions would be in a moment. “And some people are unaware that they have them. Some of them cannot control it, and it’s really unfair.” You started, looking around at the baffled faces of everyone around the dinner table.

“They end up locked up, captured, for the ability they cannot control. And usually, they end up executed.” You said with a straight face, a slight smile tugging at your lips. And suddenly, your father looked at you with those eyes. Shit, you were about to sustain a large beating right in front of you family. 

If you cried or ran away, you would just be beaten harder. So, as your father’s rough voice came out of his lips. “Come over here.” You started to walk over there. You stood right in front of him. And took it.

His fists tightened as he hit your face hard enough for you to fall over and bang your head on the floor. You started to feel woozy. Did you have a concussion or something? Probably. But as your father crouched down and took off his belt, you gulped. He was using a belt this time? You really fucked up, didn’t you?

He scrunched it together and started to hit your ribs. It hurt like crazy, but you took it. How couldn’t you? You didn’t have anywhere else to go, you didn’t. All you had that wasn’t theirs’ was your cat special ability, and well, that didn’t help that much either. 

Maybe you could sustain a living as a street cat? Yeah, an unlikely story. You were bound to die and be beaten on the streets, the same thing you would be running away from. And you were sure cat food would taste like shit too. You had no hope, but still, as you spoke up to your uncle, it felt good.

You felt valued as your little cousin looked at you in awe.

You felt seen, something you rarely felt in your life.

As you slipped from consciousness, you were calm, the rarest emotion in your life.

You woke up, looking around. You were on a couch. They had moved you out of the way. You sat back up, looking around even more. And well….there was blood right where you head had been laying. You sighed, touching your head.

Yup, your head was bleeding. However, it was patched up. That was weird, why had that happened? Now that you think of it, you were bandaged all over. Your green T-shirt with an orange cat and blue jeans remained. Afterall, those were the only clothes your parents bought you.

You sighed. Were you really gonna keep on living life like this? Always being beaten until you passed out? Being like a little, helpless, mouse? No. You weren't....but you'd need to plan first. And plan is what you did.

A few days later, a documentary of Yokohama, Japan came on. It told all about ability user and such. Yokohama, the neighboring city to Kawasaki, where you lived. You researched A LOT about Yokohama after seeing that.

And finally, one day after a heafty beating, you finally used your ability to escape. You sat on the roof, sighing in your unfashionable outfit. A plain white shirt, black gym shorts stolen from your brother(you tied it tight), an open olive green jacket, white socks, and grey tennis shoes.

You would really need to get some fashion sense...maybe you could pick some up when you got to Yokohama? Eurgh, whatever.

You stood up and used your ability, just like all those other times you did it to get a break from your family. But this time, you ran away.

”Special Ability: The Travelling Cat Chronicles!” You yelled, as you jumped off the roof, turning into a cat affectively and running to the next city over; Yokohama.

With no plan, with an unforeseen future, you ran away to Yokohama, the so-called heaven for ability users. And shit, it felt amazing.

[thestylesindependent]

When I was being crushed by a crowd of sweaty singing drunks under the Slane stage in 1987 to a soundtrack of David Bowie’s Absolute Beginners, I hadn’t a notion I’d be back one day shepherding three daughters as they went wild for a musical chameleon of their own.

But that’s as it was 37 years later and I found myself draped in the ultimate sign of the times - a moulting feather boa - with 80,000 people around me dancing all night to the best songs ever.

The crowd gathered for Harry’s house party could scarcely have been more different to the one that had stormed the castle last time Lord Henry Mountcharles threw open his gates in 2019 to let tens of thousands of Metallica fans in to bang their heads and pump their fists to raging metal.

This time it was more fluorescent and female and family-friendly.

As the day started, parents hoisted children onto shoulders ahead of the long march from the wildly expensive car parks to the castle gate, following a rainbow trail of boa feathers.

There were stewards offering wrist bands to minors “and to the adults who might get lost at the bar”, the woman policing the table said as she scribbled my name and number on a band for my smallest child.

The road led past blocks of portable toilets where enterprising children sold rolls of toilet paper to anxious looking customers.

When asked about prices a child said they were “only €2″.

For the packet?

“No, per roll.”

They cost the kids 20 cent. The future of the rip-off Republic is in safe hands.

Once inside, the challenge was to find a space to sit for the hours before Harry. Tens of thousands of people were ahead in the race for that space so we struggled to find a patch of grass even three quarters of the way back from the front.

We ended up beside a super-organised group of families who had spread a network of picnic blankets across a small area having arrived at midday, a full two hours before the gates opened.

Dave Ellis from Carlow was the sole man in the group. He’d been sitting for more than two hours by the time we interrupted him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get up,” he said. “I’ve lost the feeling in my legs and I don’t think they work any more.”

He laughed when asked if he was a big Harry Styles fan. “I was kind of roped into coming.”

Roped or not, he’d embraced the Styles spirit with zeal. “I spent last night putting hairspray on the boas to hold them together,” he said. “That is what we were told to do.”

And?

“It didn’t work.”

Beside him was Serena Carney. “We’ve been sitting here for hours and we are not moving,” she said with the firmness of an Irish mammy.

The last time she was here was for Guns and Roses in 1992. “It was a bit a different, I suppose. The atmosphere was different for sure.”

She certainly didn’t have a picnic including feta cheese sprinkled with crumbled bacon at that gig.

We didn’t even have feta in Ireland back then.

Annie Mac took to the stage to play some tunes and if Slane had a roof she’d have lifted it off when she played a snippet of Abba’s Gimme Gimme Gimme (a man after midnight) and started a wild singalong.

Jenny Murphy from Limerick was another concertgoer in the parent trap. “I’m here with my daughters,” she said. “I’m not a big fan. The last time I was here was in 1995 for REM.”

How did then compare with now? “There is a lot more pink today and the crowd is so different. We took the bus up and there were three people over 25 on it. Me, my friend and the bus driver. But it’s great and there is such a happy vibe and people are so stylish.”

She did have one gripe though. “The prices! They’re mad. The t-shirts are 40 quid and the hoodies are 80. And I am just after buying a scoop of ice cream for a fiver.”

As the support act Wet Leg embarked on a scream therapy session which lead singer Rhian Teasdale promised would make everyone feel better, a man stumbled past carrying two hard-won crepes from one of the food stalls where insanely long queues formed for most of the day.

When asked if he was okay, he sighed heavily and said “I just f**king want to go home.”

Only four hours to go, I thought, but said nothing.

Not everyone wanted to go home. In fact virtually no-one else did. Grainne Gleeson from Downpatrick and Caoimhe Daly from Warrenpoint didn’t care about prices or queues or feta and were all about Harry.

“She’s his number one fan,” Gleeson said gesturing to her friend. “She’s seen him twice already on this tour and this is her third time. And she’s going to London to see him.”

Daly nodded enthusiastically. When asked why she’d want to see anyone play four times in a matter of weeks, she said that while “it might be the same songs every night it is a different vibe. And I had to come to Slane because it is such an iconic venue.”

Aoife Sheehan from Limerick said she wasn’t such a die-hard fan and was here because she got a ticket for her birthday. “I was a big One Direction fan but forgot about him until I heard his last album and was blown away by it. And look around you, isn’t the atmosphere just brilliant?

She wasn’t wrong.

Then Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody blared out of the speakers, a sign that Styles was ready for us. After that it was all screams and shrieks and singalongs and as I marvelled at the energy and the enthusiasm of the crowd it dawned on me that REM, Oasis, the Rolling Stones or even Bowie who I’d seen play this field had not come close to matching the joy, excitement and showmanship Harry Styles brought to Slane.

Hats off to him.