#I am so sorry but I am once again night posting and not rereading for mistakes and just accepting I’ll be sad about them being there later

[lokis-army-77]

Hi 👋

I had a smut idea about a modern version of Rockstar!Eddie. Corroded Coffin is just taking off so of course Eddie interacts with fans through social media, answering dms and liking fanart. One day Eddie gets a dm from Virgin!Reader, asking him if he can take her virginity. At first Eddie is very unsure about it until he learns more about Reader and agrees. How does that sound?

Xx

Drunken Texts

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Virgin!fem reader

Word Count: 5.6k

You drunkenly DM the Eddie Munson asking him to be your first.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f & m receiving), p in v, fingering, virginity taking.

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @xxladymjxx, and @emma-munson

AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I started my masters program and have kinda been in a slump lately, but I am so happy that I finished this for you @randomreader1999 I was determined bc you have read and liked literally everything I have ever posted and I love you!

Masterlist

Eddie scrolled through his DMs in the dark of the tour bus. He loved to answer fans, even if his manager told him it wasn’t a good idea. The rockstar life was brand new to him and he couldn’t help wanting to have a relationship with his fans. He knew he would have loved for his idol to message him back when he was once a nobody, so he was only doing what he thought would be great fan service.

It wasn't until he clicked on your message that his heart skipped a beat. 

Hiii Eddie 

I know this iis a weird thing to ask but… woul dyou take my virginity???

His mouth hung open, shocked at what he was seeing. Sitting there, he battled with what he should do. Did he just leave it on read or maybe turn down the poor girl as politely as he knew how? 

Then, he saw that little green dot next to the profile picture and all of a sudden Instagram was telling him you were in the chat. 

He freaked out even more when he saw the bubble appear, signaling you were typing. 

Oh my god!!

Please ignore that 

I wasn't exactly sober when I sent it to you 

Eddie chucked at the speed at which your messages came in. You were definitely freaking out on the other side. So he decided to answer and put you at ease.

It's alright

Mistakes happen, believe me

He watches as your typing bubble appears once more. 

Oh my god, you actually answered me.

I'm going to fucking die

Please don't think I'm a creep, I promise I'm not!! 

I didn’t think you would see that 

Eddie shakes his head, a bemused expression washing over his face. Deciding it was late, he turned his phone off and set it aside. Sleep comes fast. It usually did, not only because Eddie could fall asleep anywhere, any time, but life on a tour bus–performing in a new town almost every night–was exhausting, especially for someone who was still new to the rockstar world.

When Eddie awoke the next morning, the first thing he did was grab his phone. Opening it, he was still in the chat with you. He laughed through his nose softly as he reread your messages. He should have clicked out and gone about his day, but for some reason, he wanted to continue talking with you. 

So, as he climbed from his bunk, he texted you back once more. 

Hey

Hope you didn’t die

…..

The ding from your phone caught your attention, pulling you away from typing on your computer. It was muscle memory that had you reaching for the device and pressing on the notification before even looking to see what it was, too confident it was either your best friend/roommate or your mother who always seems to be in your business. 

But as you look at the message, your eyes widen and your face heats with embarrassment. It was neither your mother nor your roommate… No, it was Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, who had been witness to your most epic blunder. 

“Fuck!” The curse echoes through the apartment. Why is he messaging me? Again? Your heart thuds in your chest. Should you answer him back? Should you just ignore it? You had no clue what to do as your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“What’s all the yellin’ about?” 

You startle when a voice calls out from the front door. Looking up, you see your roommate, Robin, taking her shoes off. 

“Hey, Rob. I’m actually going to fucking die. Like you need to find a new best friend because I am no longer here.”

She walks into your room and leans on the door frame, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Normally, I’m the dramatic one… What’s happened?”

You can’t help but nervously laugh and rub the back of your neck with a sweaty hand. 

“Oh my god, what did you do? You have that look!” She gasps and points a finger at you.

“What? I don’t have a look.” You defend. 

“Oh, yes, you do. You have this guilty look when you do something bad.” She argues, stepping further into your room. “Tell me what you did or I’ll hit you.” She makes a hard swipe at your shoulder.

Instinctively, you go to hold your assaulted arm. “Ow! What the fuck Rob!”

“Tell me or I’ll do it again.”

“Okay, okay! No need to get violent. Sheesh.” 

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your chair to face her as she sits on the edge of your bed. 

“So remember when we went out drinking the other night and I got all sad drunk on you because I’ve never had sex, let alone been in a relationship?”

She squinted her eyes, trying to determine where you were going with this. 

“And then you told me to just shoot my shot?” Well, drunk me apparently thought DMing my celebrity crush “Take my virginity” was a good fucking idea.”

Robin gasps, hand covering her mouth. “Oh babe, you did not…”

“Oh, wait, it gets worse.” You clap your hands together. “He fucking messaged me back. Twice! He probably thinks I'm a weirdo, maybe a stalker? I can never show my face in public again!”

“Alright, just calm down for a second.” Robin stands from her spot on the bed and stands in front of you with her hand out. “Let me see the damage.”

Reluctantly, you hand her the phone. She’s doing an awful lot of humming while looking at the short yet mortifying conversation. 

“Why do you keep humming like that?” You ask. She's making you nervous. 

She looks over the top of the phone at you and then back down. “I think he’s trying to start a conversation with you. Why else would he respond after seven hours? He actually might be flirting.”

You look at her horrified. “Robin, I highly doubt he is flirting with the crazy nobody who drunk texted him at 2 a.m. on a Saturday. If anything he’s trying to get information on me for a restraining order! I wouldn’t blame him.”

“Babe, you–and I can’t stress this enough–need to take a chill pill. Sure, you asked rising rock sensation Eddie Munson to take you to Pound Town, but the man is into it. He wouldn’t text you again if he wasn’t. If anything, he would have deleted the DM and gone about his day, he probably gets hundreds of texts just like it and there is just something about you that is reeling him in. In my expert opinion-”

“I’m sorry, expert?”

“Yes, expert. Now shut up. I think you should go with it. Text him back, flirt it up, because who knows what could happen? Maybe one day he’ll follow through on your request.” Robin is giving you a manic smile, one that has an idea behind it.

You squint your eyes at her, deciphering what she could be thinking. “Robin. No, don’t you dare.”

She yelps, shocked at the way you grab for your phone. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t do whatever it is you are thinking of doing!” You stand, reaching for the phone again. That’s when she bolts. “Robin! Come back here!”

“I’m doing you a favor! You’ll thank me later! Trust me!”

You chase after her through the apartment. Your poor downstairs neighbors probably think a herd of horses is running around above them. 

“I really don’t trust you, Rob! Give me the phone!” 

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands!” She screams as she makes a run for her room, slamming the door behind her. You catch up fast, pushing on the door and entering without a problem. She’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Rob? Where are you?” You ask, knowing she can only be in one of two places in the room. She’s either shoved herself under her bed or in the back of her closet. 

So, you stop and listen. You can hear the faintest of tapping sounds as her fingers furiously type away on your phone and it’s coming from under the bed. Diving to the floor, you pull the bed skirt away and see her lying there. 

“Robin, I swear to god, I'm going to kill you. Give me the goddamn phone.” You grab at her ankle and pull. She begins to scream and you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation. 

“Stop! Stop or I swear I’ll send the message!” 

You stop pulling but you don’t let go. 

“How do I know you won’t just send it?”

“You have to trust me.” 

Sighing, you shake your head. “This situation has destroyed my trust in you. Slide me the phone and I’ll let you go.”

“Are you negotiating with me?” The tone in her voice is almost offended.

“Yes, I am negotiating with you. Your life for my phone with an unsent message.”

Robin huffs, “Alright. Deal.” She slides the phone back to you and you let go of her foot, snatching your device off the floor. 

She clambers out from under her bed but you can’t help but see the suspicious-looking face she’s making. 

Hastily, you unlock your phone, and low-and-behold, there is a message from you, or rather Robin, to Eddie Fucking Munson. 

Currently dying as we speak

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” You jump forward, grab one of her many stuffed animals from her bed, and launch it full speed at her. 

Robin ducks, laughing hysterically as she does so. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, you aren’t!” You throw another plushy. 

She moves to grab what you’ve thrown off the floor and begins pelting them back at you. “You’re right, I’m not! I’m helping your love life!”

Soon, you both calm down, each of you falling flat onto Robin’s bed and laughing. 

“I can not believe you did that.” You nudge her shoulder and she can’t help but giggle. 

“I really am sorry, but where else are you going to get the opportunity to flirt with the guy you’ve liked since before he got famous?”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I actually hate that you’re right.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Unfortunately.” You groan as you stand up and begin to walk back to your room. 

You’re greeted with another ding when you fall back into your desk chair. This time you check the notification. Eddie has messaged back and it has your nerves standing on end. 

Could he really be flirting with you like Robin suggested? Is he like this with every girl who comes crawling into his DMs?

Against your better judgment, you open the message.

If you’re going to die, at least leave me something in your will.

That makes you laugh softly before typing back. 

And what makes you think I’ve got something for you to have?

He answers quickly.

I’m sure you can think of something 

No can do. 

All of my belongings are going to the ole best friend

so you’ll have to take it up with her

Dang, I was really hoping for something to remember you by.

I guess these messages will have to suffice ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You catch yourself biting your lip, a blush blooming on your face. 

Maybe you could think of something for me to give you…

What you were doing was a slippery slope. The ellipsis at the end of the sentence insinuates something less than innocent. You just couldn’t help it, Robin was right, he was flirting with you and obviously, your very forward first message didn’t deter him, so what was the harm in being a little risky? 

The three little dots appear as Eddie types. Then they stop and start again over and over. It makes your stomach flip. Maybe you shouldn’t have been suggestive. 

Oh I might have something

Your heart beat faster.

And what’s that?

I couldn’t help but go through your profile and I’m guessing you live in New York

Are you coming to the CC concert in a few days?

You aren’t too sure what he’s getting at but you answer him anyway.

Tickets were sold out in like five minutes, so unfortunately I’m not coming. 

He’s quick to respond.

Well, we can't have that. 

What if I put you on the VIP list? Would you come?

Are you sure? You don’t have to do that, it’s too much. 

Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn't.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what you should say. ‘No’ would be the best answer, the safe answer but ‘yes’ was exciting and what you wanted to say deep down. After a game of mental tug-of-war, you finally begin to type.

Alright, I’ll be there. 

Great. The VIP entrance is on the north side of the venue, I'll be waiting for you.

……

The Corroded Coffin concert wasn’t for a few hours but with a mix of anxiety and excitement, you had gotten ready and made the long trek to the venue quicker than you thought you would. Luckily there was a tall man, most likely security, standing in front of what Eddie said would be the VIP doors. 

He spots you as you walk closer, his arms crossed and his eyes squint at you with suspicion. Taking a deep breath, he speaks, “Can I help you?”  

“I know I’m early but I should be on the VIP list.” The statement came out sounding more like a question than you had wanted it to. 

“I think you have the wrong place, there’s no VIP for this concert.” 

You turn your head to look back down the street and then back to the man in front of you. “This is the Corroded Coffin venue, isn't it?”

He nods, “Yeah, it is.” 

Before he could continue, theres a ringing that interrupted him. Pulling his phone out he takes a glance at the screen before his eyes snap back to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and before you can ask what’s happened, he steps back and opens the door. As he waives you inside, he says, “Eddie’s down the hall, to the right, and through the only red door.” 

The area backstage is as grungy as expected with its black-painted cinderblock walls covered in hundreds of stickers and graffiti. The band’s equipment fills the space making the path around it extremely narrow. You squeeze past amps and instruments and step over loose cords on your way to the door where you were told Eddie would be waiting.

It’s easy to find the red door. It sits at the end of the hall one bright light shining overhead, like it’s beckoning you forward, enticing you. 

You can’t help the nerves you feel, your heart pumping faster and faster, the lump in your throat. It all gets worse when you knock on the door and hear a muffled, “Yeah?” 

Taking that as your cue to go in, you open the door slowly. Eddie is sitting there on a black leather couch face buried in his phone. He looks up only slightly before he moves his gaze back down only to do a fast double-take when he realizes who you are. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t think you would be here this early.” He sets his phone down on the arm of the couch before standing and walking toward you. 

“Why? Waiting on another girl to show up before me, trying to worm your way into someone else's will?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, yours is the only one I’m trying to get written into at the moment.” 

You can’t help the sheepish smile. “Ah, so I’m the only one for now but there will be others.”

“We’ll see,” Eddie winks, moving back to his seat on the couch.

Silence falls between the two of you. Nervously you begin to flit your eyes around the small room, fingers plying with the hem of your shirt. 

“You can sit if you’d like, I won’t bite.” Eddie motions for you to sit beside him and slowly you make your way over. 

Your skirt rides up and the leather of the cushion feels sticky against the backs of your legs, but it doesn’t distract you from how nervous you have become being in direct contact with one of your biggest crushes.  

“You okay?” 

Nodding stiffly, you respond, “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He takes your hand, and the warmth radiating off him makes you feel more at ease. The nervousness slowly dissipates as you get lost in his deep brown eyes. “You seem a bit nervous, I swear I just wanted to hang out with you, no funny business,” he raised his right hand, holding up three fingers, “Scout's honor.”

Laughing, you say, “I believe you! It’s just that you’re you and I’m me.”

“You say that like I’m some kind of celebrity.”

“But you are. And it’s kinda intimidating.”

Edde laughs loudly, “Me? I’m intimidating? What about sweet ol’ me intimidates you?”

You can’t help but giggle, entranced by his liveliness. “I don’t know, probably everything?” You motion up and down at him. 

“Oh come on!”

“No, really!” 

He looks at you, eyebrows raised quizzically. 

“I’m just shy, and you seem to exude confidence.”

“Na, that’s only on stage sweetheart. Think of it as an act.”

The longer the conversation went, the more comfortable you became. Eddie was no longer this scary rockstar sitting before you but a regular charismatic guy. Your posture was no longer rigid as you sat curled up on the couch. Eddie had gotten closer but he was still at a respectful distance. 

You’re pulled from your chat when someone knocks on the door. When it opens, a short blond woman is standing with a clipboard clutched in her hand and her finger pressed to a button on the side of her headset. As she spoke into her mic she waved her clipboard at Eddie, beckoning him to come with her. 

Eddie checks his phone and stands within a second. “Looks like it’s show time. Follow Chris here and she’ll lead you to the barricade. I’ll see you after?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’ll see you when the show’s over!” 

……

The venue isn’t big but it feels like thousands of people are cramped into the tiny space. You’re thankful to be at the barricade where you at least have no one crowded in front of you, even if you are being squished against the metal railing.

The crowd is rowdy, chanting for the band to come out. Their screams only become louder once the lights dim and the squeal of a guitar erupts over the speakers. Your heart is in your throat as you make out the band filing onto the stage in the almost pitch blackness. 

Then, in an instant, the spotlight comes on and Eddie steps forward as he plays the opening riff to their newest song. 

The way his fingers dance across the frets is making you clench your legs. If his fingers could play that fast, what else were they capable of? 

As he begins to strut across the stage, lyrics flow past his lips carried by a deep, sensual tune. His eyes catch yours in the crowd and from that point on, you were entranced. Your eyes never left his. No longer were you surrounded by a crowd, separated by a stage and a metal barrier. No, you were right next to him. You could feel him, his warmth, and the way his breath fanned over your face as he sang. 

The concert went by with you bewitched, like a sailor hearing a siren song. Eddie seduced you with his words and movements until you were almost a puddle on the floor.

Finally, when the lights went down and the crowd filed out, a security guard came to escort you backstage once more. 

The atmosphere had changed from the light-friendly one that had been there hours before. Now the air in the small room was charged. You felt the air crackling as you ended, goosebumps rose on your arms as Eddie greeted you. His eyes were filled with something more than friendliness.

Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to speak and your mouth felt dry even as saliva pooled in response to the sweaty mess that stood in front of you. 

It’s like your body went into autopilot, your mind swirled as you stepped toward Eddie. Your hips swung sensually and once you were close enough to him, you reached a handout and pushed him back onto the couch. 

He landed with a “humph”. His eyes followed you as you slowly fell to your knees. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

You look up at him though through lidded eyes. “I meant what I said the other night.” Your hands glide up his thighs, fingers barely tracing over the bulge underneath the zipper. “I want you to take my virginity.” 

Eddie catches your hands. “You sure about that? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to.”

Sighing, you lean into his space, “I’m so sure.” 

With nimble fingers, you unhooked the button of his leather pants, the zipper moved down on its own thanks to Eddie’s stiff cock pressing against the tight fabric. 

You can't stop your mouth from salivating when you see he isn’t wearing underwear. He lifts his hips, helping you to pull his pants down. Your eyes widen at how massive he is. Eddie smirks when you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Don’t worry baby, you can take it.” 

You aren’t quite sure you can. He’s intimidating, especially for your first time, but he soothes you with gentle, calloused fingers brushing your cheek, pulling you to him. 

With a quivering lip, you open your mouth, tongue pushing forward–waiting eagerly to taste him. You can’t help the lewd moan that erupts from the depths of your throat once Eddie’s cock is placed on your wet muscle. He’s warm, hot almost, and the bead of white at his slit tastes weird. 

Your eyes meet his when you look up at him, the once-milk chocolate of his irises had turned pitch black as he watched. Slowly you close your lips around him and begin to bob up and down along his length. 

“Oh- oh fuck.” Eddie choked out. His hand flew to the top of your head, harshly tugging on the strands of hair. It sent a delicious sting down your spine and a pulsing throb through your cunt.

You keep going, the whimpering moans erupting from Eddie the only encouragement you needed. His mouth is spewing filthy words, ones that would have any grandmother clutching her pearls, but no, they spur you on, had wetness soaking into your underwear. You were afraid if he didn't stop, you'd cum without having been touched. 

“God damnit, your mouth is so fucking good, Baby. Fuck.” Eddie’s fingers grip tighter and his hips start to tick upward, shoving him further into your throat. You can’t stop the gag that comes at the intrusion. Pulling away a line of spit still connects your mouth to him. You take a moment to breathe, the sight of Eddie's flushed face and dark eyes fueling your desire. He looks down at you, a mixture of awe, concern, and raw need in his expression.

“Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him once you catch your breath. “I just wasn’t expecting that,” you laugh a little. 

The two of you sit there for a moment, chests heaving and eyes wandering, until Eddie begins to move. He grabs hold of your arm, pulling you up and into him, his lips press to yours and you melt into him. The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before he is trailing down, tongue smoothing over your jaw and he attaches against the soft skin of your neck. The sucking you feel is a weird sensation but not at all unpleasant. 

Goosebumps appear in the wake of Eddie’s fingers as they travel down your arms and to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on it slightly, prompting you to pull away so he can slip the top over your head. Deft fingers work at your bra strap as he starts kissing over your shoulder and chest, stopping to suck and nip where he pleased. 

“Eddie,” you sigh.

He hums in acknowledgment. 

“Need more. Please I need more.” 

Without a word, he breaks away and pushes you onto your back. His hands are hot as they travel over your legs and under the pleats of your skirt. Your breath hitches in your throat when Eddie begins to drag your panties down your legs. 

Embarrassment flushes over you when his eyes lay upon your needy cunt. No one has ever seen you like this, vulnerable with all your most intimate parts on display. You can’t help but shy away, gazing anywhere but at Eddie. 

“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen,” he remarks as he leans closer. His tongue slips past his lips, tasting the wetness gathering at your folds. A primal moan escapes him as he begins to lap at you, drinking you in. His fingers splay over your thighs, pulling you closer as he eats you like a man starved. 

“Oh! Oh fuck-” You can't help the exclamation. The feeling of his wet muscle sliding over your clit in just the right way, at just the right rhythm. Your hands grip at anything they can, trying to keep you from floating away. 

You felt so good. He felt so good. Ecstasy flowed through your veins like rushing rapids, untamed and strong. Zaps of electricity could be felt throughout your body as he ate you up. 

Thick fingers tease at your entrance and your legs instantly snap shut. Eddie uses his other hand to pry your thighs from around his head. “Keep ‘em open sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered and seized when one of his digits easily slipped into you. You could feel yourself clenching around him, it wasn't enough, you needed more, needed him to stretch you out further.

“Eddie- Eddie please,” you gasp. “More!” 

He hums into your cunt, the vibrations make your back arch off the sticky leather of the couch. Within seconds of your demand, Eddie is slipping a second finger inside you. You can feel the sharp cold from his rings as they come into contact with your hot skin and his thick fingers curling into you. 

All that could be heard in the room were the wet sounds of the rockstar feverishly finger fucking you and the gasping moans you let out every time he licked you just right or his fingers brushed just against a sensitive spot.

Eddie removed himself from your clit with a ‘pop’, the cool air that rushed over the wetness made you shiver. “Look so fuckin’ pretty all splayed out for me, Baby. What do say we kick it up a notch hum?” He asks, voice sickly sweet. 

“Yes, fuck- yes.” You agree, body thrumming with anticipation. 

Slowly, he removed his fingers from you. You blushed as you watched him bring the digits to his mouth, tongue licking the remnants of you off them. “You taste so fucking good. God, I want to be between your legs forever.” 

His words did something to you. Your pulse quickened and your cunt fluttered, emotions went feral inside of you. It took all your energy not to pull him into you at that moment. 

“Fuck me,” you spoke, just above a whisper. 

“What was that, baby?”

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please, I need to feel you inside me, pounding into me. Make it so I feel you for days after I leave, I need it, I want it so bad, please.” It might have sounded desperate but you didn’t care. It was the last thing on your mind. You were so close to having him, you could just taste it and it was driving you crazy.

“Oh yeah? Want my fat fucking cock inside that tight cunt? Stretching you out, ruining you for anybody else? Hum? Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you beg, “yes, please. Want your cock in me now.”

“Alright, Sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want.”

Eddie’s large hands splayed over your hips, pulling you into the position he wanted. You watched in awe as he brought the angry red tip of his cock to your drooling cunt, gliding it through your folds and pushing it gently inside. 

He was so big, just the tip of him was stretching you farther than you ever had been before. Your hips careened away from him but he held your steady. 

“Not gonna hurt you, just gonna take it slow until I get all the way in,” He spoke gently, soothingly. 

Nodding, you take a deep breath, trying to relax as he pushes into you inch by glorious inch. 

A loud cry sounds in your throat as he bottoms out. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a fierce ache erupts in your abdomen. 

Eddie grunts, pulling back slowly, just an inch before he pushes back inside. The tip of him presses into you, coaxing the fire in your belly. It’s only been a few minutes but you want more, you want it harder, faster, less careful. You wanted to be fucked. You wanted to know what it was like to not be able to walk straight after, wanted to experience life-altering sex with the man of your dreams. 

“More,” you mewl. “More, Eddie, I want more!” 

His hips pick up pace in answer his movements becoming more urgent as he responds to your plea. The room fills with the sounds of your mingled moans and the rhythmic creak of the couch. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cling to him, lost in the sensation, as he fulfills your deepest desires.

You could feel it, a little tingling in your tummy as he fucked you deep and raw. Something you had never experienced before, not even when you had come by yourself. You were building up fast, causing your body to shake and your toes to curl as you tried to hold it off, but it was no use. You were tipping over the edge within a second. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream, head flung back into the cushion. Your chest rose in the air and Eddie held you tightly, his thrusts coming short and fast as he worked you into your rapture. “Eddie! I’m- I- I’m- Oh shit. Oh, holy shit. I’m about to-”

“I know. Can feel you squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice.” His arms flex as he holds you steady against his assault.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, every muscle in your body contracting with intense pleasure. Eddie continues to move within you, prolonging your ecstasy until you collapse back on the couch, utterly and completely spent. He follows soon after, his release warm on your stomach, leaving you both breathless and sated.

Laying there, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. You had just fucked the Eddie Munson… Not just fucked, you let him be your first. Who knew a drunken text could lead to something as inconceivable as having a literal rockstar fuck you until you were seeing stars. 

You could feel Eddie shifting, and you opened your eyes to see him looking down at you. His lips moved, but you could hear no sound. Your heart was racing, and the blood was pumping too loudly in your ears for you to make out what he was saying. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie just shook his head, a smirk forming on those kiss-swollen lips. He stood from the couch, careful not to put his weight on you. 

You watched him closely as he pulled his pants up his thighs and walked to a black duffel bag in the corner. He rummaged through it for a moment before coming back, a green and white package of baby wipes in tow. Taking one out he slowly wiped at the mess you had both made, cleaning you gently. 

By the time he finished, the rushing in your ears had stopped. “Thank you,” you said as you sat up, pulled your skirt down, and searched for your bra and shirt. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Sweetheart. Any decent person offers aftercare.” He bends down, grabs the garments you were looking for, and hands them to you. 

Shaking your head, you say, “Not just for that, Eddie, for everything. I was mortified when I noticed those drunk texts, I still kinda am, but I’m glad you didn’t just block me and move on.” 

“‘S’all right, I actually thought it was cute.”

“You did not… It’s so embarrassing.” You bury your face in your hands blushing as red as you possibly could. 

“Oh, but I did. I wouldn’t have entertained the conversation with you if I hadn’t.”

“Mmm, okay then.” You shake your head. Standing up, you grab your stuff and look back at Eddie. “I guess I should go now, you probably have somewhere to be.” Taking a step toward him, you were going to kiss him on the cheek but thought better of it. Somehow that felt more intimate than the sex you had just had. 

He caught your hand as you turned to go. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Looking back at him you spot your panties hanging from the index finger of his other hand. “Oh, sorry.” You reach to grab for them but he pulls them away. 

You look at him, brow raised in confusion.

“On second thought, maybe I should keep them so I have an excuse to see you again?

[mrs-weasley-reid]

AUGUST REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! Here I am, once again, for yet another month of reading and living vicariously through our one and only Reader. I haven't read much this past month, and most of these sweet authors are people I follow (and shockingly, some are my mutuals, too !!! I'm too much of a fangirl to believe it's true). Give these gorgeous, spectacular writers a ton of love. They all deserve it so much, considering they're blessing us with such amazing work for free. Like. Comment. Reblog. The equivalent of a five-star review

Like always, I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. Reminder to please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+. MINORS should not be interacting in any way.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a muted shade of green by @dalamjisung ↳ the flow of this fic was so smooth my jaw dropped down on the floor as i read through (writer's first reid fic, and it was chef's kiss)

✿ hearts aligned by @raekensluver ↳ OMG this one had me melting. roommate spencer is such a dream

✿ sick love by @misserabella ↳ guilty pleasure unlocked. a wonderful reading session filled with interesting discoveries

✿ behind closed doors by @incognit0slut ↳ i loved binging this so much !!! was a giggling, kicking mess while reading this one; and it has four parts ! we're so spoiled

✿ kiss it better by @nereidprinc3ss ↳ tmi but was having an episode of mild anxiety attack, and this saved me in the middle of the night, giggling myself to sleep, so thank you for such amazing work x

✿ dead of night & nightvisions by @cxrrodedcoffin ↳ lol i read this at work and had to fight battles not to make any facial signs that i was consuming kinky content. the second part was another level, i was cackling like a witch

✿ much ado about nothing: act iii, scene v & act iv, scene i by @incognit0slut ↳ act iii, scene v left me speechless, reader didn't fold and i took that as a win. act iv, scene i played with my emotions lol

✿ just a number by @reidsdaisies ↳ i became a stand-up actress while reading this because it's overwhelmingly spicy and filled with tension i had to provide comedic relief for myself

✿ untittled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ no because i saw my reblog post of this and i immediately snorted and then laughed some more after rereading it. pipe cleaner will never not be funny to me

✿ poison me, i'm fine by @gghostwriter ↳ no because this one needs more attention ?????????????? i loved reading this so much i was so tempted to pull my heart out and ship it to pau, show how crumpled it was after reading

✿ my best colors for your portrait & my face in every place by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i wasn't lying when i said august is for angst and i immediately gobbled this up after seeing it. the way my chest was so tight but also smiling because the writing style is amazing got me looking like a lunatic

✿ cute, outraged genius by @lavenderspence ↳ tina got me laughing like a gremlin. it's so adorable she made me fall in love with spencer all over again

✿ another untitled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ sorry, sweethearts, ket just couldn't be bothered with titles lmao. secret lover reader is my favorite lover, sooooo you all will enjoy this cutie patootie creation

✿ one single thread of gold by @gghostwriter ↳ you'll overdose of sweetness. it's so adorable and a great way to feel giggly about spencer reid.

✿ for the fear of falling apart | part one by @pathologicalreid ↳ i haven't read the rest of the parts but mhmmm this was DELISH. well-written creation that made me show emotions while reading at work. my coworkers asked me my my eyes were so wide and i think that says a lot at how great this is

✿ second to none by @raekensluver ↳ ooooo this one got my blood boiling in a good way

✿ untitled work by @sincerelybubbles ↳ adorable stuff make me melt especially when it's a spencer one

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ darling, in any life series by @hotchfiles ↳ at this point are we even surprise im including yet another series form lari here ? anywayyy, i love me some old flame trope

✦ picket fence dream by @hotchfiles ↳ this is a new part from the choiceless hope series and i gobbled it up. i was screaming when i read this

✦ tells by @ssahotchnerr ↳ first thing i read in the morning, and i sobbed from the overwhelming sweetness

✦ silver by @solardrop ↳ okay but this was so adorable ??? plus im def one of those gals who tried to throw herself on him, maybe even catapult myself

✦ sympathy for the devil by @hotchfiles ↳ nosebleed. spice level is not as high as i make it seem but the writing really got me sweating. just read it, you'll understand what i mean

✦ spending time with you by @lavenderspence ↳ no because TINA CALLED ME OUT WITHOUT CALLING ME OUT. i was slightly offended. the gasp i gasped was so loud asdkfnkg. but it is adorable, go read it pls pls

✦ doctor, love by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i love when reader slaps the character with some reality like a seasoned raw steak.

sorry, not sorry if this post is filled with lari. I reread her works religiously, so here are my favorites from hers truly:

✦ help me hold onto you ↳ oh, this is like crack for me, and i always come crawling back no matter how hard i try to stay sober

✦ half asleep takin' chances ↳ still waiting for future aaron somewhere out there

✦ choices ↳ gonna be honest with everyone this one makes me wanna deck aaron hotchner and then deck reader for folding so easily and also deck myself because im no better than reader

✦ quis ut deus? & daniel 12:1 ↳ my fave series from lari and i will never not reread them over and over and over and over again because i love it so much idk what's the appeal on me but i love it and i want this framed and buried with me even if it's unfinished

I haven't had a lot of time to visit the good ole "for you" feed in a while, so I apologize for missing all the amazing work every writer has put out this month. I will make it up to you, I promise! And if you'd like, you can send me works or mention me so I can read certain creations that you deem noteworthy for the next rec fic month!

love lots, ker x

[moonchildreads]

don't you know what the night can do?

summary: you call for help in the middle of the night and eddie comes to your rescue

pairing: best friend!eddie x reader

tags/warnings: mdni. technically a college au? depression, abusive relationship (not eddie, he's a sweetie), talks of potential homelessness, no SA happens but eddie thinks it did for a second before it's cleared up (again, it does NOT happen, but since it could be triggering consider this your warning), hurt/comfort, happy ending!

wc: 2.8k

a/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but upon rereading it i realised it was me trauma dumping so i rewrote a significant portion of this to make it into it's own thing. i hope it brings you as much comfort for you as it did for me, and if you are in a situation like reader is, please seek help. i believe in you and i am rooting for you 🖤

Now's the time when it's down to me and you Spread these wings, we'll be flying

It’s already late when the phone rings and he’s immediately shoving his feet into his sneakers, rushing out the door of his apartment and into his van. It’s even more late when he parks across the street and decides against waking your entire building up by ringing your doorbell. Hurriedly, he searches his glove box for that little spare key you gave him for emergencies - the one that has a big metal ring and a tiny plastic tab with your name on it. He lets himself in, the storm outside in the sky and inside your head getting worse and worse every second that ticks by.

Eddie finds you slumped against the small table where your phone rests, the receiver still in your hand, and he knows. He knows something terrible has happened and it doesn’t matter that he’s been anticipating it ever since you told him you’d begun dating that asshole classmate of yours because nothing could have prevented his heart from shattering the moment he sees you.

You’re a lifeless looking doll, devoid of any emotion and feeling. He’d fear you’re actually dead if he couldn’t see your chest rising and falling slowly.

“Sweetheart?” he says, lowering himself to where you’re sitting and trying not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” you say, almost surprised when his eyes come into view. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, baby, of course I’m here,” he shuffles closer to you, but still doesn’t touch you.

Eddie swears he can still feel your arms around his neck sometimes, how your hands always used to find his, and how your legs would tangle on the couch all the time. You don’t like to be touched too much these days. He misses your warmth.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Cold.”

“You’re cold? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“NO!”

Your voice rings loud in the quiet apartment, your eyes locking with his in a fiery yet terrified stare. What are you so afraid of? Eddie takes in your appearance and it’s clear that you’ve been crying, though he doesn’t really understand why. He peers into the hallway that leads to your bedroom, searching for answers though he finds none.

“I- I’m sorry… I made a mess,” you explain, deflating once more. “I was upset and the sheets, they… they’re not on the bed anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “We can put them back on.”

You afford him a movement that barely registers as a nod and he thinks he hasn’t seen duller eyes in his entire life, except for when he used to look into the mirror when he was younger. You shouldn’t feel like that, not if he can help it. He raises up onto his knees, still keeping his distance but signaling that it’s time to get up.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

“Can… can I get a hug first? Please?” you whisper, your face contorting into a pitiful sight.

Eddie doesn't say anything before he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms shielding you from anything and everything that might be trying to hurt you. He lets you bury yourself into him, lets you crawl underneath his skin and bones, become a part of his very soul and he holds you tighter whenever you exhale another heavy breath.

He waits and waits with his ass turning into ice on the harsh linoleum floor of your kitchenette area, and he doesn’t let go before you do because you once read to him that you should always hug kids until they let go first and he still hasn’t forgotten about it. A booming thunder shakes your windows and Eddie feels as though the storm has moved inside your home. You are no longer a kid, but right now you remind him too much of himself when he first went to live with Wayne, and so he keeps holding you until you pull away first.

"I really needed that, thank you," you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. He takes it as a win anyways, because you haven’t smiled in a while and Eddie has always loved your smile.

"You can have as many hugs as you'd like, sweetheart. Why don't you go take a shower while I get your bed ready, huh? You can leave the door open if you want, I’ll be here."

You follow him into your hallway, eyes full of tears at his words. He might be the only person in the world that knows you better than you know yourself, and you don’t take that for granted. You take a hot shower and rub at your skin with your washcloth until it's raw and sensitive and cleansed, and when you come out wrapped in your fluffiest towel Eddie says nothing about the fact that when he walked into your bedroom, he could tell that you’d ripped your bed sheets off the mattress somewhere between a nervous fit and calling him in the middle of the night. There’s a new set, clean and smelling like your favorite fabric softener, and he’s laid out your most comfortable sleepwear at the end of your bed.

Eddie throws your used sheets into the washing machine and gets it started while you get changed, and when you're done you fish out a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt he left behind what feels like eons ago. He thanks you, almost surprised to see you have those clothes and it dawns on you that he doesn’t remember he gave them to you, because you haven't had one of the movie nights where he used to wear them in a while now. When you're both ready for bed, Eddie lifts your covers for you and tucks you in, laying next to you on top of the duvet.

"You can get in if you want," you say, and it's clear you want him to do it.

Eddie thinks he'll never be able to say no to you, so he gets in without you having to ask twice. You are quick to shift closer to him once he gets under the sheets and he takes the hint to put his arms around you, bringing your head to his shoulder and tangling his legs with yours. It’s been ages since he’s held you like this and he’s not going to start complaining about it now - not when you’re right back where you’ve always belonged.

"I have to move out by the end of the month," you mutter, starting to explain the night's events.

"That sucks. You’ve been house hunting yet?"

"No. I found out today and I was hoping Matt would help."

"And he didn't," Eddie says, knowingly.

"He didn't," you confirm. "I asked him to come over earlier because I was upset and he said he’d be here for dinner."

"You cooked?" he hums, petting the back of your head.

"Yeah. I made, uhm, lemon chicken? It wasn't very good."

You've always been a wonderful cook, at least in Eddie's eyes. You don't have a lot of recipes you can whip out from under your belt upon short notice, but the ones you do have are some of his favorites. The chocolate chip cookies he has to hide from Wayne, the chicken noodle soup you bring over when he’s sick, the banana pancakes that always went along with his scrambled eggs and bacon when he used to sleep over. You've never made lemon chicken for him, but you're good at following a cookbook so he thinks it mustn't have turned out inedible.

By now Eddie has learned that "it wasn't very good" means "Matt didn't like it". He doesn’t understand why that piece of shit is dating you if never likes anything you do. Hearing you repeat the things he says to make you feel bad makes your best friend want to dig through your fridge for the leftovers and eat them all just to prove to you that your boyfriend is wrong.

"I think I have to break up with Matt."

Your words make Eddie's head turn. Of all the things you could have said tonight, this was not something he ever imagined. He could have sworn you'd date Matt until he'd decided he'd had enough of you, or you'd marry him and he'd have to sit in the front row watching that fucking guy sap you of your life force for the rest of your days.

Eddie is haunted by the sound of your vacant voice when you'd asked him to come over. At the forefront of his mind he can see it all in loose pieces: the disarray in your bedroom, your obsession with being clean, Matt not being here after you said he’d come over earlier for dinner. He waits for you to paint a clear picture, hoping he won't have to break your boyfriend's nose (or worse) when he sees him around.

"Did he hurt you?" Eddie asks, heart sinking.

"I don't think he likes me anymore," you say, breaking down. Eddie shifts closer and holds you while you shiver. "He, um… he said I can't live with him if I can't find a place before I have to move out of here. A-and when I got upset because I don't want to be fucking homeless during my last semester, he- he tried to distract me with sex."

"What the fuck."

"I t-think he only came o-over ‘cause he wan- he wanted to get laid," you admit between hiccups. "And when he- he couldn't g-get it, he just left.”

"Sweetheart, fuck, I'm so sorry. He's such a fucking asshole," he lets you sob into his arms, the tears coming out of your tired eyes rivalring the downpour outside hitting your windows.

“He- he wouldn’t even hug me. I was crying and he just stood there! He doesn’t care about me being homeless, he- he doesn’t care about me at all!”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he says gently, and you want to believe he’s telling the truth but you don’t. You can’t.

“It’s not. It’s not okay,” you try to move away but he follows you, heart chasing after yours.

"What do you mean, baby?" he brushes a tear away from your face as you both sit up.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m just… there’s nothing in here,” you say through your teeth while you grab at your shirt frantically, scaring him with the rough motion. "I feel so empty and I think- I know there's something really wrong with me, Eddie. Something has to be wrong. I’m not normal.”

"Hey, no, no, there's nothing wrong with you," he pulls you into him once more, not letting you run away from him again. "Sweetheart, I promise you, you're- you're not empty, what are you even saying? You're full - you're so full. You're full of love, a-and kindness, and if that son of a bitch is making you feel like you're not full then, I don’t know, dump his ass! He's mean and pathetic, please don't- don't break yourself into a million pieces for someone who doesn't deserve you."

"I don't feel full, Ed."

"That’s okay, we can work on it," Eddie says, confidently. "And I’m not gonna let you be homeless, I swear. You can move in with me until you feel ready to start house hunting!"

"What if I never feel better?"

"Then we’ll live together forever,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you know he means it.

"Ed-"

"Babe. I'm serious. One hundred percent. You can even have my bedroom, I don't care."

"And where are you gonna sleep, huh? Don't be stupid."

"Wayne slept in the living room for like a decade and he's still kicking, I'll survive."

You turn in his arms so you can look at him. Eddie looks back at you with his warm eyes and mischievous smile firmly planted on his face. He’s so special to you. And luckily for him, you've never been able to say no to him either.

"When is your lease over?" you ask, wiping your tears and feeling suddenly determined.

"Uh, after you graduate I think?"

"I’ll move in with you but don't renew it. Let's find a new place."

"Yeah?" Eddie grins. "You wanna be roommates? For real?"

"I think- I think it could be good for me," you raise your hands and squish his cheeks. I think you could be good for me. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

"Me too," he says, gaze softening.

He knows it's not your fault Matt has taken over your life, not when he's conditioned you for the past year to depend on him for everything. Eddie also knows he himself has been the source of many of your fights, and while it hurts to see you cry every time Matt gives you the silent treatment until you apologize for something you didn't do, your adamant refusal to cut your best friend off your life makes him incredibly proud of you.

As much as you've stood up for Eddie throughout your lives, you've never been good at standing up for yourself. He thinks it’s time he starts standing up for you too.

"You, um," Eddie starts, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from his cheeks and onto his lap. "You really are gonna break up with him though, right? Because I don't think I can pretend like everything's cool with the guy when he keeps hurting you like this."

"No, I know. I can't keep going like this anymore. There's... there's so much stuff you don't even know, Ed. Sometimes he really scares me," you confess.

"He hasn't, like… hit you or anything, right?" his throat constricts.

"No, but he says things... weird things. He's so mean sometimes,” you huff, finally getting rightfully angry. “He got mad for no reason the other day and said that the only time he felt I loved him was when he got sick and I stayed with him during Spring Break. I spent an entire week taking care of him and then when he gave me the fucking plague, because of course I got it from him, Robin had to take care of me because he was sooo busy."

"He's such a goddamn loser, he totally held you hostage ‘cause you had plans that didn’t involve him for once. I knew he had a problem with us going to Steve's cabin, he’s never liked any of us!”

"Also he says I humiliate him in class because I think I'm smarter than him. Like it’s my fault his grades suck.”

"You are, though," Eddie says, grinning.

“Huh?”

"You are smarter than him. You have always been the smartest of us all."

"No, I’m not,” you scoff. “Nancy was valedictorian."

"Be real, you didn't want that shit anyway."

"No, I really didn't," you giggle softly. "I was too busy running around town with you and Jonathan.”

“Those were the good days,” he snorts. “We totally made Hopper age in dog years.”

After the laughter ends, you two look at each other and know that something has changed tonight. Something that was slowly veering off track got violently course-corrected, and you let yourself feel hopeful for the first time in a very long time.

You’ll go to sleep in Eddie’s arms and wake up to the smell of him frying bacon. You’ll whip your banana pancakes from thin air and you’ll start deciding together what you want to sell, what you’ll put in storage and what you’ll take with you once you move out of your place. You’ll talk about your finals coming up and Eddie’s new job, and he’ll do the dishes while you call Nancy, who’ll call Jonathan, who’ll shake Argyle up, who’ll call Eden, who’ll call and wake up Robin, who’ll yell at a sleepy Steve to get up, who’ll then call you to ask when they should be coming to help you lug all your stuff into Eddie’s van.

And Matt won’t call all weekend, because he doesn’t care about you, but you will never know that because you’ll be getting drunk at Robin and Steve’s while Eden tells you about a two bedroom apartment that a classmate of hers is vacating after graduation, and everyone else will make bets on how long it’s going to take for you and Eddie to notice that you won’t actually need two bedrooms.

But for now, with eyes that hurt from crying and limbs that feel heavy with a tiredness you’ve been carrying for months, you feel a little less empty because you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll always have Eddie by your side.

thank you for reading!

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

“Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

[dwimmerlaiks]

hello! good evening! my train was delayed and then I missed my connecting tram and while waiting for the latter I had one of those moments where I felt queasy just because I was so tired. then when I finally arrived at home I had some pistaccios and rosehip tea and went straight to bed. "pistaccios and rosehip tea" sounds so fancy now when in reality it was me standing at the kitchen counter working my way through the first snack I could find and the only thing that would count as a "fun beverage" I had available.

Pistaccios (the roasted, salted kind) are also so nice to snack on because of the haptics. it's like a little project, every single one. gourmet stim tools, maybe.

also, I am nearing the end of my train book (the book I read on the train). I've been reading to kill a mockingbird, I've never read it before. I think for many US-americans it's one of those standard high school reads, yeah? the type you feel some ambivalence towards maybe because you've spent some of your formative years overanalyizing it in a school setting? Or maybe not - I think that's what I heard. It wasn't for me, not being from the US, and the year I went to High School in Maine as an exchange we read Beowulf lol. Oh and!!! Macbeth. I haven't reread either since and don't remember much now. Beowulf was DENSE, for me, tough to read. That year though I was deep in my "russian literature" phase (this sounds ridiculous but to explain I was 17 and tragically in love with my friend, she talked a lot about the books she read.. which naturally became the books I read lol) and that's why I once held a 40 minute presentation about anna karenina in front of my highschool class which I would like to apologize for now to everyone involved. that was probably NOT EASY to have to experience. again, 17, gay, pretentious... my environment had to go through it. but you know, the books I read during that time were a real gift and opened worlds to me. so yay.

Maybe let's take a moment to be thankful to our 17 year old gay pretentious, obsessive selves for opening up worlds, whatever they might have been.

ok weird direction for this post to go in. anyway, trainbooks. I'm glad I read this one (to kill a mockingbird), it offered a lot to me. Next up is handmaid's tale which I also haven't read yet (obviously). am a bit anxious about it.

during summer I read dracula, finally. I'm a little sad I missed the first dracula daily run when everyone was reading it, I'm sure it was fun. but it was fun also to just read it by myself. I've watched and read sooo much vampire media and literature and then to read this finally was... so odd. I kept thinking, wow, actually - this is much more scooby doo in genre. It's like ... much closer to buffy the vampire slayer than like, nosferatu (the new one) lol. anyway that's what stood out to me, just some twenty-somethings forming connections and experiencing life and solving crime!! the vampire bits was just set dressing. (I know that's a simplification but that's the vibe I got and what I enjoyed the most! also why nosferatu (new) was such a let down for me personally. ergh). also van helsing was so. annoying. sorry but can anyone back me up? I started sighing out loud when he started talking hahha. like pleeeease can you hurry up. can you keep it a little shorter. the point, can you get to it!

oh this post is so long now, again. I can't believe I just told van helsing to zip it. I go on and on just like he does!

ok good night! I'm going to doodle and watch youtube and fall asleep.

[hbosucc]

Greg Hirsch x Reader: Chapter 5

Another smut chapter yay! Same as Chapter 4, this chapter is for 18+ readers only, no minors.

Link to previous chapter

Content warnings for:

Sex (protected, between two consenting adults), oral (f receiving), sex while blindfolded.

Swearing

Thank you all for reading/liking! :') I'm having so much fun rereading as I'm posting these chapters. Thinking about maybe taking requests if anyone's interested at some point!

Chapter 5: Bootycall

          I hadn’t seen Greg in a week, not since the morning after our first night together, and I hated to admit it, but I missed him. Sure, we texted every day, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t very independent-woman-boss-babe of me, but it was true: I was starting to fall for him. Not in love, necessarily; that would take more time, but I was feeling things for him nonetheless.

          On my couch after work one night, scrolling on my phone with a mug of tea, my feed was interrupted by a phone call. I saw it was from Greg and waited half a second before picking up.

          “Hey, what’s up?” I asked, putting him on speaker.

          “Hey, sorry, I know it’s kind of late. Am I, like, disturbing you, or anything?”

          “No, Greg, you’re fine.” I laughed. “I literally wasn’t doing anything.”

          “Okay, cool, um…well, I was wondering, and like,” He sighed. “It’s been, like, a really fucking long week at work, and super stressful, and I missed you, and I was basically wondering if I could come over?”

          “Is this a bootycall?” I asked, faking incredulence.

          “No. I mean, not necessarily, um, to what I understand as the definition of—of a bootycall,” He said, and I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore.

          “It would be okay if it was, you know.” I said, leaning back on the couch. “What time are you coming?”

          “Oh, um…I can be there in, like, half an hour? If that works for you?”

          “Sounds good.” I stretched and stood up. “I missed you too, by the way. See you soon.”

          We hung up, and I went down the hall to make sure my bedroom was presentable. I pushed my dirty clothes off the bed and into the laundry basket, then pulled the sheet and comforter up, smoothing them out. I gave my pits a quick sniff-test and changed into a set of matching underwear. None of this was necessary, I knew that; Greg probably wouldn’t have noticed, much less cared, whether my bed was made or not. But it made me feel more put-together and gave me something do while I waited for him. I pulled on a silky robe and went back to the kitchen to pour two glasses of wine, then lit a candle in the living room and settled back on the couch to wait. It had only been a week since we’d last slept together, but I could feel the need to have him rise rapidly in me once again.

          When he arrived, I buzzed him in and met him at my door, pulling him inside and kissing him before he had a chance to speak. I closed the door and he pushed me against it, running his hands through my hair and locking at the nape of my neck. Breathless, we broke apart, looking into the others’ eyes.

          “Hi.” I smiled, my hands on his chest.

          “Hi.” He said back, looking at me with a strange expression. It took me a moment to recognize it as something between lust and adoration.

          “So, rough week?” I asked, one hand reaching for his tie, slowly beginning to loosen it. “Need someone to take your frustrations out on?”

          “Yes and no,” He ran his hands down my back and over my hips, giving my butt a squeeze. “I just really, really fucking wanted to see you.”

          “Well, I’m flattered.” I kissed him again. He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me down the hall to my room, letting me fall back onto my bed. He threw his suit-jacket off to the side and undid his belt, stepping out of his pants. I could see he’d popped a tent already.

          “You need some de-stressing?” I asked, looking up at him through my lashes as I crawled to the edge of the bed, palming him through his underwear.

          “No,” He stopped my hand, unbuttoning his shirt.

          “No?”

          “I mean, yes, but,” He pulled his shirt off, holding onto his tie as he pushed me back on the bed. “I wanted…I want to do something for you, tonight.”

          “Oh, do you?” I raised my brows, propping myself up on my elbows.

          “Yeah, so just lay down, and, um, is it okay if I..?” He moved behind me, and I could feel the silk of his tie slip over my forehead, coming down to block out my vision.

          “Oh! Oh, yes,” I assured him, and he tightened the makeshift blindfold so it would stay on. I lay back against my pillows and waited, tension building as I had no idea when or where I’d feel his touch next. I felt a pull at the belt of my robe, and it fell open so I could slide out of the sleeves. The air above me shifted as his weight came down on top of me. He kissed me, tilting my face up to meet his.

           He drew away, and I felt his lips move to my neck, then my cleavage, feeling me over my bra, then continuing down. He pressed kisses to my stomach, then my hips, and I felt his fingers hook under my thong and pull it down my legs. Kissing my inner thighs, getting closer and closer, he was teasing me, making me wait.

          And then finally I felt his tongue on me, and I gasped. My body started as though I’d been shocked. His hands came up to hold my thighs in place as he moved his tongue slowly over me, circling my clit before coming to rest on it, flicking it languidly. I’d severely underestimated his abilities, I had to admit, though I had never been happier to be wrong about something.

          He sped up, seeming to notice how I reacted to different movements, figuring out what I liked and replicating it. With my vision gone, I felt everything even more vividly than usual, to an almost overwhelming degree. My legs began to shake as he continued, my moans pitching higher and higher as my thighs clenched against his grip.

          “God, yes,” I breathed, one of my hands gripping a handful of blanket, the other finding his head and weaving through his hair, holding him in place as I grinded myself against his face, his tongue still going. I clenched one last time, letting the eruption of pleasure ripple through my body as I came. I rode out the warm waves, then collapsed back against the sheets, letting go of him.

          “Jesus Christ,” I said, my legs still shaky as I tried to sit up.

          “Was that good?” He asked, untying the blindfold. I grabbed his face and gave him a long, slow kiss, tasting myself on his lips.

          “What do you think?” I chuckled softly, kissing him again.

          “I don’t know, you tell me.” He smiled. He wanted to be praised.

          “I liked that very, very much.” I indulged him. “Actually, I fucking loved that. Did you enjoy yourself as well?”

          “Yeah, actually, you taste really fucking good.” He reached around and unhooked my bra, tossing it to the other side of the room.

          “The blindfold was a nice touch, too, where’d you learn that?” I ran my hand idly over his shoulder, down his arm, and back up.

          “I, uh, I’ve had some experiences,” He said, with that shyly devilish little smile he gave me sometimes.

          “Well, I’m lucky to be getting to enjoy your expertise.” I kissed him and brought my hand down, slipping under the band of his underwear, feeling the satiny-soft skin of his head. He blew out a slow breath, his eyes fluttering closed as I began to stroke him, feeling him harden under my grasp.

          “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about being inside of you literally all week.” He groaned as my fingers quickened.

          “What a coincidence, I’ve been thinking about the same thing.” I kissed him, moving on top to straddle him and sliding down his underwear, his dick springing out. I was more prepared this time, grabbing the condom I’d left on my bedside table and ripping it open. He helped me slide it onto his length, and I rubbed myself against him, aroused enough that he soon slid inside with no discomfort, just a few shorter strokes for adjustment. I rode him slowly, sighing at the sensation, his hands moving to my hips, then up to my breasts, cupping and squeezing.

          I felt myself climbing towards an orgasm again. I knew I probably wouldn’t be pushed over the edge before he was, but I was enjoying the ride nonetheless. At this angle, my clit rubbed on him each time I went down again, and combined, it was a lovely sensation. His hands had gone back down to my hips, moving me faster and faster, until he held me in place, letting out the kind of moan that could only accompany an orgasm. He pumped a few final times before I lifted myself off, curling myself next to him as his breathing returned to normal, coming down from his high.

          “Fuck.” He laughed, giving me a kiss before pulling off the condom and tossing it across the room into the garbage.

          “Lucky shot.” I rolled my eyes. “If you missed, you’d be cleaning your cum out of the carpet.”

          “I never miss.” He stretched out, getting comfortable.

          “If you say so.” I got up to use the bathroom. When I returned, I was surprised to see him still awake, his gaze shifting from the ceiling to me as I rejoined him on the bed.

          “Hey,” He started, turning towards me. “I wanted to ask you something. And, um, if you say no, that’s totally okay, but, um…I still wanted to just, like, put something out there for your consideration.”

          “Yeah, what’s up?” I asked, propping myself up on one arm.

          “Would you…well, I was wondering if…” He took a deep breath, looking at me with his big, dark eyes. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

          “Oh,” I said, absolutely thrown for a loop.

          “I mean, if it’s too soon or you don’t want to or something—”

          “Greg, sweetheart, I would love to be your girlfriend.” I took his face into my hands, stroking his cheek with a thumb.

          “Well, that’s—that’s great news.” He smiled, leaning in to give me a kiss. It was cute to me how nervous he’d been. It was slightly high-school, but also very, very Greg. And I liked him quite a lot, so I didn’t mind the idea of putting a label on our relationship.

          “You’re so sweet.” I said, laying my head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around me.

          “I wasn’t sure if I was asking too soon, or if you maybe weren’t—you weren’t as into this as I was, so,” He let out a breath. “Very happy you said yes, to say the least.”

          “Well, I’m happy you asked.” I ran a hand over his chest. “I mean, I’m having a good time, and it seems like we work well together.”

          “Yeah, it does.” He kissed my forehead, then lay back against the pillows.

          “Do you want to stay the night, or do you need to get back to your place?” I yawned, snuggling in closer.

          “No, no, I can stay.”

          “Good.” I curled into him, closing my eyes. I listened as his breathing slowed, evening out, and he began to let out little snores with every other exhale. I could feel myself begin to slip away too, and let sleep take me over.

[zorawitch]

20 Questions for fic writers!

I was graciously tagged by @two-hands-toward-the-sun. I love tag games so much and I love talking about myself so thank you so much!

I hate embedding links, so sorry to everyone about that. Everything should be linked in my pinned post at the moment.

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have eighteen right now! I used to have more but I get embarrassed about old writing really easily.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

150,934. Which is completely insane.

What fandoms do you write for?

Sandman mostly, but Doctor Who and A Song of Ice and Fire are in there too. Good Omens as well.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"You Will Be The Death Of Me," which is my sole published ASOIAF fic, is first, followed by "Temptation" (my fic about The Nun), "Selfish Prayers," "You Were My Whole World...," and "For A Moment We Were Able To Be Still." I think it's part because a lot of my Sandman fics are reuploads but it's still very weird to me since I don't talk about either ASOIAF or The Nun on here at all.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I grew up using Wattpad and the Wattpad comments section often feels like a battleground to see who can get the author's attention. When I switched to AO3 where writers answering comments is pretty commonplace, I stood amazed. If I haven't answered your comment, you were either too demanding of me (a one-time incident) or I'm waiting until I get like five comments so I can sit down and answer them all at once.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh, it's gotta be "My Ugly Organs (How Lucky We Are)." Partially because using Despair as a narrator means you get angst personified.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably "Is This Fun For You?" It doesn't make a lot of sense, but to me the resolution is pretty happy.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually? I have gotten some iffy comments and one person accusing me of appropriating Welsh culture. But nah usually people are kind.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. I write a lot of smut. Mostly stuff with weird power dynamics.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If AI thievery counts, then yes. Never by a real person though.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Unfortunately no.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The idea of doing so scares me. I find it antithetical to my method of writing.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

My apologies for being basic, but mountains will rise and fall and time will ravage the earth and I think it'll still be Aziracrow for me.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have this Rhaenyra/Alicent Siren and Lighthouse Keeper AU that I've been working on since April and I keep delaying it to work on other stuff. It might happen. It might never happen.

What are your writing strengths?

Contrary to the popular stereotype of writers never writing, I will sit down and write nonstop for long periods of time. I usually spend at least an hour a night writing, and every time I sit down for a few minutes, I usually do a couple lines.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I am very weak with criticism and I often set out to write a scene with a certain destination and then I write myself into a corner.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I used to do it a lot, back in my Dracula fanfic days (I was thirteen, it was a bad time). I would want to be more confident in my Romanian and/or Spanish writing before I do it again though.

First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Warrior Cats when I was about ten. The first fic I published was for The School For Good And Evil, though. It was on Wattpad.

Favorite fic you’ve written?

It is "You Were My Whole World... (And You Were Up And Gone)," hands down. I periodically reread it because I love the concept so much and guys we need to be doing stuff with the first Despair's funeral. The entire concept is an angst factory.

Tagging @orion-the-starspinner and @ineffably-ryuu

[honey-minded-hivemind]

❤️-Anon here! Thank you so much for the reply! I’d love a masterlist but you don’t need to do it just for me, no need to worry yourself and if you’d do it then take your time ❤️

As for my top aus/works - I don’t know the names for a lot of them so I’ll try to describe them and I hope you’ll know what I mean:

I love the siren Au and I hope there is more coming some time

I love the hybrid/witch au (btw while reading it I had a thought of a moth reader who’s really delicate and always a bit spaced out when she sees something very bright leading to the platonic yandere having to look out for her)

I love the tiny talon Au with reader being turned back into a baby dragonet (I haven’t actually read the books the au is based on but I kinda want to know thanks to you)

The story where Reader is a cloned sibling of both Sabertooth and Wolverine and they basically have a custody dispute (big ass fight) was chefs kiss 🤌

I don’t know the name of this one except of the (I think Abo-)au with creed!reader. But the story where reader runs away after being abused and they find her again three years later???? That is so good!!! Especially the au where they have wings and she cuts them off!!! I imagine that makes them even more fragile and weak in the yanderes eyes

And (I’m so so sorry if I’m confusing this with something else) but the one we’re sabertooth has to babysit shapeshifting!reader and a bird tries to kidnap here is something I always re-read when I see it on my feed (I tried rereading it just now to but I couldn’t find it this quick 😞)

I could go on, but this is already so long lol. Just shows how much of your stuff I love ❤️

Also sadly I’m not in the range where you can see the solar eclipse since I’m from Europe but I hope you’ll be careful as well!!! Hydrate well and don’t forget to remember that you’re loved 🥰

- ❤️ anon

Thank you. So MUCH. I am glad you enjoy all if those😊 The dragon book series 🥚Tiny Talons🐉 AU and it's variants are set in is called Wings of Fire by Tui T. Sutherland. They just released Cutie Cuffs of the first arc characters, too! Moth Witch Reader wouod be adorable and fluffy! A little spaced-out kid/teen/young adult who can fly and loves bright objects! The dark aus with Creed!Reader are the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU and its variants, and the winged one is 🌙Silent Night🦋 AU... I wouldn't mind doing more for the Sabretooth vs. Wolverine custody battle of their clone/sibling Reader... It's set in the Animated Series, and Reader is a small bean there. Siren AUs are fun, and I kinda want to do some more wirk with siren aus these next few months, once I've settled the 🖤Dark AU and done its first or second post...

Do you have a favorite platonic yandere, or say, favorite top three or five, ❤ Anon? I enjoy hearing the characters all of you like (and info-dumping about them!). I myself like the ferals, but I think each character has a specialty to them😊

Rest a bit if you need some, and drink some water, too. Thank you for checking in on me, ❤ Anon. Thank you.

[fonulyn]

Hi!! I'm sorry if this is a weird message to get, but I noticed, based on a couple posts I've seen, that you've been kinda down about your writing recently. I just want to say that I absolutely adore your fics and I keep going back to reread them because they make me so happy. As a writer myself I know it can be hard to look positively at your own stuff - believe me, I struggle a lot - so I'm just here to tell you that what you do is super appreciated.

not a weird message at all! a really nice, sweet message, and i appreciate you! 💖

i'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the ficcage too :) and honestly, it's less that I'm down about my actual writing and more that I struggle with getting things done and i struggle with the lack of community i'm feeling in fandom. like. i still enjoy writing and i enjoy rereading my own shit when it's done. but writing does not come as easily as it used to, which is veeeeery frustrating.

i know it's mostly because i was so damn burnt out last winter that i'm only now beginning to bounce back from it. thanks to the long summer break i get as a teacher, otherwise i would've been on sick leave all this time 😅 but the summer break has been helpful and i'm slowly getting back into the groove. ngl, i'm also terrified that the burnout will happen again once school starts in a couple of weeks but i'm trying to stay positive.

the lack of community is... i used to have a friend who was cheerleading me on and brainstorming ideas with me when i was stuck but he ditched me. and it left me in this weird place of... idk, i guess i had it too good for a while and got used to it and now it's so hard to go back to writing alone in my lonesome :'D i desperately wanna talk about projects and ideas and all fandom things, but i don't really have the opportunity for that now. (tho there have been a couple of people who reached out, and i truly appreciate it! 💖)

and not gonna lie, it would be lovely if people would leave actual comments on fics they read even if they're old fics. it feels that 99% of the time a fic gets all its comments in the first 24-48 hours and after that it's dead and buried. and it makes this feel like fast food consumerism and i'm tired of flipping burgers altho it's all i'm good for, writing-wise, but i digress.

I'M SORRY FOR THE RANT omg I'm super tired (mom had a pretty bad fall last night and we spent a while patching her up at 1 am 😅) and this hit me in all the feels.

thank you so much for reaching out! was very, very nice of you! 💖

[notquitecharlie]

7/22/23

Dear Friend, 

I know that I’ve written a few times and I feel like every time I write it’s like an introduction explaining these letters and how I’m going to write them and who I am. So if you actually read these, I’m sorry. This is probably gonna be close to another one. 

I feel like I write too sad. If that makes sense. If we met and talked this is not how I am. I could tell you everything about myself and I think if we met in person you would never connect me and this blog. That’s why I write this I guess, it’s to be the other side of me. But it’s not even really another side it’s like… I was thinking about this last night…it’s like every person is an ocean. A really nice one for most people. From a distance you see the joy and beauty of being an ocean. Even if you dip your feet in you still feel like you know this place, this person it’s happy. But the ocean knows otherwise, it knows of the waves and the sharks and it tries to hide them to keep everyone around them happy and safe. It doesn’t mean the oceans a bad place or crazy or anything, I think it just means that there’s more to it than it shares all the time. Mostly to protect people and themselves, whether the other people deserve it or not. Does that make any sense? I hope it does friend. I honestly think I’m happy pretty often, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my dark moments here and there when it feels like the world is going to crash and it’s all my fault and everything every person has ever said to me is stabbing my brain with its words pointy edges, but the storms pass, telling you about them just helps. So, thank you.

This week has been a pretty good week. I did a magic show for a playgroup on Thursday which was fun. I went to the library to take my college ASL summer final and did good enough to pass the class with a A. I’ve been driving more and doing pretty good, I have a pair of Crowley style sunglasses I wear when I drive and funny enough that helps. This week I read “Graveyard of Lunatics” by Ray Bradbury (I think that’s the title), “The man who was Thursday” by G.K. Chesterson, am almost done with “Once upon a tome” by Oliver Darkshire am rereading Good Omens and reread most of Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman. I’ve also been listening to the Coraline audiobook (I got it on cd for my 16th birthday because I adore it and love cds) for the millionth time while I rearrange all the bookshelves in the house. I’m also set to start at a “real” high school this upcoming year but can’t think about that without spiraling so I won’t talk about that right now. This week I also had a volunteering event, I volunteer with this group that plans events for kids and teens (especially those highly impacted) with special needs and pairs them up with a friend (while there are some exceptions the “friends” aren’t neurodivergerent for the most part) and this week was my favorite events, the public pool one and it was a lot of fun, I’d never met either of the people I got paired up with and they were just really fun to be around. I normally just call the volunteer group buddies, I’ve been doing it for a few years and it’s probably my favorite thing I do. I’m sorry this ended up being so all over the place (I went through and cut out about 4 paragraphs explaining why the books I’ve read/am reading are wonderful because I talk about books too much). I started this at 11:45 on July 21 now it’s a half hour into July 22nd so I’m gonna read for an hour or so and go to bed, unless the book gets ridiculously good then I’ll just finish it first. Sorry I brought up books again, that might be the biggest difference between melancholy posts and more happy ones, I talk about books 😂

Sweet dreams,

Love always,

Athena

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate - 11

Read part one here.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x TamlinsDaughter!Reader

Summary: Reader and Nyx meet again, this time exploring Velaris—and much more about their fates are revealed.

Warnings: Minor conflict, protective parents, forbidden love, and some kissing 👀

A.Note: I haven’t posted since last yearrr I am so sorry to all of you, but part two is finally here!! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s a little bit more fast paced but I wanted to speed it along so I could get to the actual good stuff. Make sure you read part one prior to this!

Word count: 7.1k

I was in my bedroom, rereading a book for the sixth time. It was the least favorite on my shelf, worn only from idle desperation rather than love. Father didn't often take me out to buy new books; when he did, it was always after much coaxing. I could go without him, but only with a sentry trailing me. And I hated inconveniencing them with what he called my "silly hobby." So, I waited until my father needed something from the town, and then I'd quietly slip a purchase into our errands.

It had been a week—exactly seven days—since the ball at the Dawn Court. Since I'd talked with a stranger until sunrise. It was strange, missing someone whose name I didn't even know. But I did. I missed the way he teased me, the way I could be me with him—unguarded and, for once, unjudged. My chest ached at the memory, yet I forced my attention back to the book in my lap, pretending not to notice how hollow the words felt tonight.

"I could take you to the bookstore, you know."

I jolted upright at the sudden intrusion in my mind, my breath catching at the unfamiliar—yet eerily familiar—cool tone.

"Who's there?" My whispered words sounded absurd even to me, as I scanned my empty room for a presence that couldn't possibly be real. My pulse thundered, but no one appeared.

"In your head, princess," the voice replied smoothly, amusement curling through every syllable.

My breath hitched. That voice... his voice.

"How are you doing that?" I whispered, my grip tightening on the book.

"Daemati powers," he answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

Daemati. My thoughts raced. Only a few could wield that kind of power, and even fewer had the skill to enter a mind from such a distance, wherever he was. The realization sent a shiver down my spine. "Get out of my head."

"Let me take you to the bookstore, and I will."

"I can't go out." The words came out sharp, though I wasn't sure whether I was speaking to him or to myself. "My father would—"

"Your father isn't home, is he?" he interrupted, his voice dipping into a dry hum. "Come now, are there wards locking you in?"

"No," I admitted, frowning, disliking that he already knew that fact.

"Chains on your doors or windows?"

"No, but—"

"Then you can leave."

"It's not that simple," I snapped, then clamped my mouth shut, wincing at my own volume.

A quiet pause. Then, softly, "What happened to the girl I met at the ball? The one who wasn't afraid to sneak away and stay out until dawn?"

"This is manipulation," I grumbled, though my chest fluttered at the memory of that night.

"Is it working?" he purred, smug.

"Yes," I muttered under my breath, hating the warmth that pooled in my stomach.

"Good. Meet me at the Spring and Summer border."

Before I could argue, the connection snapped, leaving me alone in the quiet, moonlit room. I stared at the book in my lap, then closed it with a sharp thud and tossed it onto the bed.

I shouldn't do this. I couldn't do this.

And yet, I was already moving—slipping into boots, shrugging on my satchel, and inching my window open with careful fingers. The night air kissed my skin as I hoisted myself onto the sill, every creak of the frame sending a thrill of nervous energy through me as my feet planted on the roof below me.

The climb down the flower-covered lattice was agonizingly slow, the wooden structure groaning beneath my weight as I scaled the two-story descent. By the time my feet touched the ground, my heart was racing. I pressed myself into the shadows, my movements silent as I made my way past the lingering, half-awake sentries and through the edge of the wards.

Once outside, I winnowed. The magic tugged at my ribs, spinning me through space until I landed at the Spring and Summer border.

It wasn't hard to spot him. He was already there, leaning casually against a sunstone pillar, his wings catching the moonlight like black silk. Shadows played along the sharp lines of his face, accentuating the curve of his mouth as he smiled—a sharp, knowing thing that made my steps falter.

"Evening, princess," he drawled, pushing off the pillar with an ease that made everything about him look so effortless.

"You know my title, but I still don't know your name," I replied, crossing my arms in a poor attempt to mask the way my heart stumbled at the sight of him.

His grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Let's keep it that way for now. Mystery suits us, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, his hand shot out, plucking something from my hair. He held it up between two fingers—a small, pale pink rose. "You've got a knack for dramatic entrances," he said, twirling the flower.

"Must've fallen when I climbed down the lattice," I muttered, taking the rose from his hand, though my fingers brushed his for a beat longer than necessary.

His brow arched in mock surprise. "You mean to tell me flowers don't just grow from your hair? And here I thought you were a goddess in disguise."

"Don't be ridiculous." I snorted, very un-goddess-like. "This, however, I can do." I cupped the rose in my palm, letting a sliver of my magic flow into it.

The transformation was instant. Vines sprouted from the stem, curling down my wrist in an intricate dance, tiny buds blooming along their length. The rose gleamed in the moonlight, glowing faintly with the life I'd breathed into it.

His smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed wonder. The silver light of the moon reflected in his gaze as he leaned closer, studying the vines with an intensity that made heat crawl up my neck. "Impressive," he murmured, his voice softer now. "What else can you do?"

I met his gaze, a grin tugging at my lips. "I'll tell you when you explain how you're able to read my thoughts."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Touché," he said, the smirk returning as he straightened. He extended a hand toward me, his wings shifting slightly as if preparing for flight. "Shall we?"

"Go where?" I asked, tilting my head.

"To the bookstore, of course."

"At midnight?" My disbelieving laugh echoed in the quiet night. "They're all closed."

"Not in the Night Court." His grin turned wolfish, his wings flaring just enough to cast long shadows. "Come on, I'll show you."

I froze, my stomach twisting at the mention of his court. My voice dropped to a whisper. "The Night Court? I'm not allowed to go there. My father forbade it."

"Well," he said with a pointed glance at my boots, "he also forbade sneaking out, and yet, here we are."

His smile was the very definition of trouble, but it faltered when he caught the hesitation in my eyes. The sharp edges of his expression softened. "We don't have to. If you want, I'll winnow you right back to Spring. No harm done."

My lips parted to refuse. To tell him I couldn't, I shouldn't. But the way he watched me, that glint of challenge in his gaze, made something reckless and wild spark to life in my chest. Against every ounce of better judgment, I stepped forward and slipped my hand into his.

"No," I said softly. "I want to."

His fingers tightened around mine, warmth spreading up my arm. "Just one question before we go," I said, my voice light but curious.

"Anything," he replied, his tone low and almost teasing.

"Are there monsters in the libraries there? Creatures made of nightmares?"

His chuckle was deep and smooth, like a shadow curling around the edges of my thoughts. "Bryaxis?" He grinned. "They're a friend."

I stared at him, horrified and awed all at once. "You made friends with a nightmare?"

He tugged me closer, a wicked gleam lighting his face. "Oh, princess," he murmured, his voice dipping into something darker, more thrilling. "You have no idea the company I keep."

Before I could say another word, the world dissolved into darkness.

—

The Night court wasn't the stories my father had told me as a child at all. Tales of monsters crawling from the shadows and winged creatures coming to steal me away. Rather, it was breathtaking, even at first glance. The scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of laughter and music drifting from nearby streets. Lanterns hung in the air like suspended stars, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone paths and vibrant market stalls.

I stumbled slightly as we landed, but Nyx's hand tightened around mine, steadying me. "Easy there, princess," he murmured, the warmth of his voice grounding me.

I glanced at our joined hands, but he made no move to let go, so I didn't pull away.

"This... this is the Night Court?" I whispered, my voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Velaris," he corrected softly, his gaze flicking over the streets like it was a lover's touch. "The City of Starlight."

I didn't know where to look first. Everything was alive, vibrant, yet somehow soothing, like the city itself was breathing. The Night Market stretched out before us, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Vendors called out to passing patrons, their stalls brimming with everything from exotic spices to delicate jewelry and hand-woven silk.

"You live here?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"Sometimes," he said vaguely, a shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips.

We began to walk, and almost immediately, heads started to turn. A merchant at a nearby stall beamed when she saw him. "Haven't seen you in weeks, boy!" she called, waving a hand towards us.

He shot the vendor a look, though it wasn't unkind. "Evening, Mrs. Fowley," he said quickly, guiding me forward before I could ask more questions.

But then another vendor spotted him. And another. Each one greeted him like an old friend, their faces lighting up as if his presence alone had brightened their evening.

"Back again, lad?" one called.

"Nyx, come here," Their voice cut through the chatter of the market. His steps faltered, his head turning toward the sound.

"Nyx?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as he guided me toward the voice, his hand still warm and steady in mine.

His eyes flicked down to meet mine, a grin tugging at his lips. "Cat's out of the bag, I suppose."

"Bat's out of the bag," I quipped, gesturing to the wings folded neatly behind him.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Well, aren't you clever," he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement.

"Who's this pretty girl?" a female asked as we approached, the same one who had called him over. She held a tray of pastries, her expression kind and curious.

He—Nyx—looked at me then, really looked, with an intensity that made my cheeks warm. Before he could answer, a group of giggling girls stumbled down the path, one of them brushing past me and bumping me forward into his chest.

"My girlfriend," he said smoothly, his arm curling around my waist, pulling me closer.

I blinked up at him, startled by his words, but as I caught the wide-eyed, dismayed looks from the group of girls, understanding dawned.

"Ah, careful with this one, love. Just like his father with the ladies," the baker teased her tone light and amused as she gave me a playful wink. Nyx's arm tightened slightly around my waist at her words.

"Here, take a sweet. For whatever trouble he puts you through," she said, plucking a chocolate-covered croissant from her tray with a pair of tongs and holding it out to me.

I hesitated for a moment before accepting the pastry, a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Thank you, Miss," I said softly, my fingers brushing hers as I took the treat.

She waved me off with a warm smile. "Call me Ressina. I run this stand for his aunt's bakery, and I have a feeling I'll be seeing more of you."

I nodded, smiling. "I hope so," I said sincerely, her kindness making the bustling market feel a little less overwhelming.

"Go on, then," she said, shooing us away. "Don't let me keep you."

Nyx didn't need to be told twice. His hand remained firm at my waist as he steered me back down the path, away from the stand.

I glanced up at him, raising a brow as I bit into the croissant. The pastry was perfect—flaky, buttery, and rich with chocolate that melted on my tongue. I made a quiet, appreciative sound before speaking. "You're popular, aren't you?"

He cleared his throat, quickening his pace as though trying to escape the conversation. "They're just friendly here."

"Friendly?" I teased, a mischievous lilt in my voice. "You must be their favorite customer—or maybe something more. Should I be jealous?"

His wings twitched, and a faint blush crept up his neck. "Are you jealous, princess?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Hardly," I grumbled before taking another large bite of the delectable pastry.

"The baker is a family friend," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "She seemed to like you."

"Plenty seem to like you," I muttered under my breath, finishing the last bite of the pastry. "Boyfriend?"

He cringed slightly, his expression sheepish. "Sorry. Those girls have been following me for weeks. I didn't want you to have to deal with them."

I grinned, delighting in his discomfort. "You know, if you wanted to keep a low profile, you're not doing a very good job of it," I mumble, finishing off the croissant and debating licking my fingers since it was so delicious.

He shot me a sidelong glance, his smirk returning with a wicked edge. "Jealousy looks good on you, princess."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading across my cheeks betrayed me.

We turned a corner, the bustle of the market fading behind us as we approached a cozier part of the street. Nyx slowed his pace, guiding me toward a small building nestled between two larger shops. A golden sign hung above the door, marking it as a bookshop.

I paused, taking in the sight. The windows glowed softly, and through the glass, I could see shelves upon shelves of books, their spines glinting like hidden treasures. My heart swelled at the sight.

Nyx pulled the door open, motioning for me to step inside. "After you."

The scent of parchment and ink greeted me like an old friend, mingling with the faint aroma of spiced tea. The warmth of the shop wrapped around me, inviting and comforting, as though it had been waiting just for us.

I turned to him, my lips parting to thank him, but he spoke first. "Go on. Find something you like."

His voice was softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something gentler. I hesitated for only a moment before stepping further in, my fingers trailing over the spines of books as I wandered through the aisles.

Nyx followed at a distance, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze steady on me.

"You brought me all this way for a book," I said over my shoulder, smiling. "You're either very kind or very strange."

"Can't I be both?" he replied, his smirk resurfacing as he leaned casually against a nearby shelf.

I shook my head, letting myself get lost in the rows of stories, their endless possibilities calling to me.

-

I let my fingers dance along the spines of the books, tracing gilded titles and worn leather bindings. Each shelf seemed to hum with stories waiting to be told. A soft sigh escaped me, my heart swelling with quiet contentment.

Behind me, Nyx's footsteps were faint, his presence unobtrusive but unmistakable. I could feel his gaze, watchful and steady, as I explored.

"Find something?" he asked after a while, his voice softer now, almost reverent in the quiet of the shop.

"Not yet," I admitted, my fingers pausing on a particularly beautiful hardback, still pristine and painted gold along its edges. I tilted my head, reading the title.

A smile tugged at my lips. "This seems interesting."

Nyx stepped closer, his warmth brushing against my back as he peered over my shoulder. "Good choice," he murmured, his breath stirring the hair near my temple.

I turned slightly, catching his gaze. "Do you read?"

"Of course," he said, mock offense coloring his tone. "What, do I not seem the type?"

I bit back a grin, holding the book against my chest. "You seem like the type to skim for interesting bits and skip the rest."

His grin turned wicked. "What can I say? I’ve never been one for small talk,"

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the shelves, but his laughter followed me.

"Here," he said after a moment, reaching past me. His arm brushed mine as he plucked a slim, leather-bound book from the shelf. He held it out, his eyes gleaming.

I took it from him, studying the worn cover. Lost Letters Between Lovers. I shot him a look, heat creeping into my cheeks.

His smirk deepened. "Thought it might be useful for you. In case you needed inspiration."

"For what exactly?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Winning me over," he said smoothly, his wings giving a small flick.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You've got it all wrong. I'm the one who needs convincing."

"Is that right?" he drawled, his voice low and amused.

I turned back to the shelves, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing the flush that had spread down my neck.

After a few more moments of browsing, I found another book that caught my eye. I tucked it under my arm, satisfied.

"Done?" Nyx asked, his tone deceptively casual.

"For now," I said, turning to him. He tilted his head toward the counter, gesturing for me to follow.

The shopkeeper, an elderly male with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, greeted us warmly. "Nyx, my boy. Bringing someone special to the shop, I see."

I froze, suddenly hyperaware of Nyx standing beside me. His hand brushed against mine as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a few coins.

"Just passing through, Mr. Tylan," he said smoothly, though there was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

Mr. Tylan chuckled knowingly. "Well, it's about time you brought a girl around, the missus and I were beginning to grow doubtful you’d ever meet the one.” He breathes through his nose as he speaks, expert hands wrapping the books in brown paper. “She has excellent taste."

Nyx handed over the payment before I could even think to rummage through my bag, his voice a touch gruff as he replied, "She does."

I glanced at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. He didn't meet my gaze, instead picking up the small stack of books and tucking them under his arm.

"Come on," he said, inclining his head toward the door.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Tylan,” I say with a soft smile as Nyx ushers me out the door.

“See you around, dear,” He gives me a simple wave.

It was odd, how anxious Nyx seemed in a place as welcoming as this. Everyone was friendly, and everyone knew him, perhaps he was afraid we’d run into the wrong set of people.

The cool night air greeted us as we stepped outside, the lively sounds of the market drifting faintly in the distance. Nyx fell into step beside me, the books still cradled in one arm.

"You didn't have to buy these for me," I said softly as he held them out to me, though he seemed more than willing to continue carrying them for me.

He shrugged, his wings shifting slightly as I took them and stuffed them into my bag. "I wanted to."

I studied him for a moment, the quiet confidence in his stride, the way the moonlight danced across his features. "You're not as insufferable as you pretend to be," I said, smiling.

His lips twitched. "Don't let it go to your head, princess."

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the books pressing against my side with a comforting weight. Finally, I glanced at him, curiosity tugging at me.

"Why did you bring me here?"

He hesitated, his steps faltering for just a moment before he recovered. "You seemed like the type who'd like it. Thought it might make you smile."

I stared at him, warmth blooming in my chest. "You thought right."

His smirk softened into something gentler, something more real. "Good."

As we reached the edge of the market, I found myself wishing the night didn't have to end.

"Nyx," I called softly, stopping in my tracks.

He turned, dark brows lifting in question, the moonlight catching in his vibrant blue eyes.

"Thank you. For tonight," I said, the words carrying more weight than I expected.

His gaze held mine, something unspoken flickering between us. Then he smiled, and it felt as if the stars themselves had leaned in to listen.

"You think it's over already?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "What else could you possibly have planned?"

He glanced skyward, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he slid his hand into mine, his grip warm and steady, and winnowed us away.

The world shifted. The cool night air nipped at my skin, sharper here, and I realized we were higher—much higher. Thin air filled my lungs as I took in our new surroundings.

"Where are we?" I asked, turning in place. Encircling us were jagged rock formations, a barren beauty carved by time.

"Look up," he said simply.

I frowned but obeyed, tipping my head back. My breath hitched as the heavens unfolded above me, brighter and closer than I'd ever seen them. The stars weren't merely distant pinpricks of light—they blazed like fireflies caught in an eternal dance, constellations shimmering with unmatched clarity.

"Beautiful," I whispered, unaware the word had even left me.

"Indeed," he murmured.

I turned to him, startled to find him already staring at me. His gaze held the same reverence I felt for the stars, and my heart skipped.

I managed a soft smile, then let my eyes drift back upward, unable to tear myself away from the galaxy stretched endlessly above.

"Come here," he said gently, tugging my hand.

Only then did I realize we were still connected, his touch grounding me even as my mind reeled at the beauty around us. He led me to a rocky outcropping, the path winding into a shallow cave. For a moment, the stars disappeared behind the jagged stone ceiling, and I frowned.

But then we emerged into an open chamber, a perfect circle carved into the roof. It was as though someone had reached into the earth and torn a hole, desperate to preserve this view of the night sky. The chamber's walls cradled us, offering shelter without stealing the stars.

Nyx guided me to a makeshift bench—a cluster of smooth, square stones—and sat. I followed, still entranced, my gaze drawn skyward as if bewitched.

"I used to come here when I was younger," he said after a moment of quiet. His voice was low, intimate in the stillness. "I'd forgotten about it until tonight. You reminded me it existed."

I tore my eyes from the sky to glance at him, curiosity tugging at me. "How could anyone forget a place like this?"

He smiled faintly. "It was my escape from, everything. My family. Expectations. I needed somewhere I could breathe."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the stars. "I get the feeling."

He bumped his shoulder against mine, drawing my gaze once more. "No one else knows about it. But I thought maybe you'd need a place like this, too."

Warmth bloomed in my chest, his words wrapping around me like a soft blanket. I glanced at him, and again, he was already staring at me.

I arched a brow. "You have a staring problem, you know."

His lips curved into a smirk. "Do I? I hadn't noticed."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I leaned my head against his shoulder.

Together, we gazed upward. He traced the constellations with his words, his voice soft and steady, while his thumb brushed gentle circles over the back of my hand. Each star above felt like it had been hung there just for us, as if the universe had paused to watch this quiet moment unfold.

For the first time in a long time, I felt peace.

"Nyx?" I asked softly after a few beats of silence.

He tensed ever so slightly at the sound of his name, a shiver rolling through him. I told myself it was because of the chill in the air.

"Hmm?"

"Who are you, really?"

His breathing slowed at my question, as if he were recalibrating, regaining control of a situation he hadn't anticipated losing.

"I have a feeling," I began, "that the power you used to peek into my head knows my lineage. It's only fair I know who you are, too."

He glanced at me, a cocky, almost childish smirk playing on his lips—a look that said, I'm not telling.

"Come on," I groaned, throwing my free hand out in frustration. His other hand still held mine, warm and steadfast. He hadn't let go, and I didn't want to, either.

"Don't you like a bit of mystery?" he teased.

"It's not a mystery when you already know who I am," I countered, arching a brow.

"Fair point, Princess."

Heat crept up my neck at the nickname, one he'd used since the beginning—since before he'd seen into my thoughts.

"You knew," I murmured, realization dawning. My voice wavered, the words trembling like brittle leaves in the wind. "You've known I'm a High Lord's daughter all along. That's why you're entertaining this, isn't it?"

I pulled my hand from his and stood abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest.

His brows furrowed as he looked up at me, confusion—and something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "What?"

"Don't play clueless now." My voice rose, a mixture of anger and humiliation bubbling to the surface. "You've known exactly who I am. That's why you're showing me the stars, why you're charming me. You're trying to secure a seat on my father's throne."

"You think I'm charming?" he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I spluttered, words dying on my tongue. "That's not the point—"

"Look," he cut in, his tone steady but laced with urgency. "Yes, I've known who you were from the start. I won't deny that. But, Princess, believe me when I say the last thing I want is your father's throne."

"Why should I believe you?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "You've done nothing but lie to me since we met. Why should I trust anything you say now?"

"Because I didn't want you to see me differently," he admitted, his voice quieter now, raw. "Because of who I am."

I froze, my anger wavering. My voice softened. "And who, exactly, is that?"

"The heir to the Night Court," he said, the words falling from his lips like a confession he'd carried for too long.

The ground seemed to slip out from under me. My vision blurred for a heartbeat, but I blinked hard, willing myself to stay rooted in the moment.

My father had warned me relentlessly about the Lord of Night—engraved the warning into my mind until it became part of me. The Night Court was treacherous. Its people were dangerous.

But he lied about the court. About its beauty.

Perhaps he lied about its people, too.

"Gods, I’m sure a fool.” I sighed, putting everything together. “Nyx Archeron," I said slowly, his name foreign and familiar on my tongue.

He nodded, watching me intently. "When I approached you on the balcony, I didn't know who you were. I swear it. But as we talked, I got comfortable, let my power stretch a bit further. Halfway through the night, I realized who you were. But I... I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't want our parents' feud to dictate—this."

"This?" I asked faintly, though I didn't need clarification.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I can take you home, if you'd prefer."

Disappointment weighed in his tone, a stark contrast to the teasing arrogance I'd grown used to.

I wasn't mad at him for his lineage—he had no control over that. I wasn't even mad he'd lied. I was mad he hadn't told me sooner. Mad that it cast a shadow over everything we'd shared tonight, turning our conversations into something that felt artificial.

My shoulders slumped, the fight leaving me as quickly as it had arrived. I lowered myself back onto the bench beside him.

"I want to start over," I said, my voice hesitant but firm.

Relief washed over his features, and he relaxed slightly, though he kept a cautious distance. "I'm sorry for lying," he said, his words softer now, more earnest. "I was, nervous."

Something told me that wasn't an emotion he felt often.

"I know," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. Perhaps I was the only person who could.

Taking a steadying breath, I turned to him. "It's nice to meet you, officially, Nyx," I said, a tentative smile tugging at my lips.

"Likewise, Princess," he replied, mirroring my smile.

And in the silence that followed, we both silently agreed to leave the past behind us, if only for tonight.

Nyx leaned back, resting his arms on the bench as he looked up at the stars. "You know, I've never interacted with someone who’s an heir too. Should I be bowing?"

I smirked, tilting my head as I looked at him. "Oh, absolutely. A bow is essential. Maybe even throw in a grand speech. Something like, It is my great honor to meet the Princess of the Spring Court."

"That's a tall order," he said, his lips curving into that infuriatingly smug grin. "Would a wink and a smile suffice?"

I scoffed, leaning forward and propping my chin on my hand. "You'd probably trip over your own feet if you tried to bow."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, one brow arching in amusement.

"It's an educated guess," I shot back, crossing my arms.

He leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "You know, for someone who called me charming earlier, you're being awfully cruel."

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to look away. "I said no such thing."

"Oh, you definitely did." He grinned, leaning even closer. "You think I'm charming. Admit it."

"Nyx—"

"Say it, Princess."

I narrowed my eyes, pretending to deliberate. "You know what? Fine. I think you're charming, in the same way a stray cat is charming when it's begging for food. Annoying, persistent, but kind of hard to ignore."

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing fully, the tension leaving the both of us. "Fair enough. But if I'm a stray cat you're certainly a rabbit."

I blinked, caught off guard. "A rabbit?"

He nodded, his grin widening. "Cute, curious, and way too confident for your own good."

"Confident?" I repeated, laughing. "This coming from you? The heir of the Night Court who decided to winnow me across Prythian on a whim?"

"That was a calculated risk," he said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes gave him away.

"Calculated risk, my ass." I shook my head, unable to hide my grin. "You're lucky I haven't punched you yet."

"Oh, Princess," he drawled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "If you wanted an excuse to get your hands on me, you could've just asked."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. His proximity was... distracting.

The air shifted, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, heavier. His gaze locked on mine, and I swore the world shrank to just the two of us, the stars above fading into the background.

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the way my heart was suddenly racing. "You're ridiculous."

"I offered to take you home," he said softly, his thumb brushing idly over the back of my hand and I wasn’t sure when they intertwined again, "and yet here we are." His tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it. Something real.

I didn't answer, my throat suddenly tight. He was too close now, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Before I could overthink it, his hand moved, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers lingered at my temple, his touch featherlight.

"Nyx..." I breathed, not even sure what I was about to say.

But he didn't answer—not with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the gentlest, softest kiss.

It was tentative, as if he wasn't sure if I'd pull away. But I didn't. I couldn't help but kiss him back. It was foreign, but filling me with a warmth similar to the sun's morning rays.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I shook my head, my thoughts a tangle of emotions. "We can't," I blurted, though my voice betrayed me with its lack of conviction.

"I know," he replied, his voice heavy with something that felt like regret—but also determination.

Our eyes remained locked, mere inches apart. We really couldn't, not with who we were, not with who our parents were.

Neither of us seemed to care at that moment, and I don't know if it was me or him who moved first, but suddenly his soft lips were back on mine.

This time, there was no hesitation. His hand cupped my jaw, pulling me closer as his lips claimed mine. It wasn't soft or shy anymore—it was raw, urgent, as though the world might end if he didn't kiss me harder.

I felt myself melt into it, my hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his free hand moving to my waist to hold me steady. The air around us seemed to shift, thickening, crackling with an energy I couldn't place.

Then it happened.

A snap, like a tether locking into place.

I gasped against his lips but didn't move away, the sensation overwhelming as something warm and ancient bloomed deep in my chest, spreading through me like wildfire. It was hard to put into words, but suddenly I felt connected to the male against me, connected to his emotions, his thoughts, his very soul. Tethered. Bound.

Nyx pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as his breath came in quick, uneven bursts. His eyes were wide, filled with equal parts wonder and disbelief.

"You felt that too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I could only nod, my own breath shaking as I tried to process what had just happened.

The mating bond.

The realization settled between us like a living, breathing thing, as though it had been waiting for this exact moment to make itself known.

"Nyx," I began again, but he silenced me with a small, disbelieving chuckle.

He leaned in again, kissing me softly, the smile on his lips brushing against mine like a whispered secret. It was almost as if he couldn't stop himself, as if the bond was drawing him closer with every passing second. When he pulled back, his amusement lingered in his expression, though his eyes were heavy with the weight of what we'd just discovered.

"The gods have a cruel way of amusing themselves," he murmured, his voice laced with irony.

I sighed, our noses brushing as we remained impossibly close. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We'll figure it out," he reassured, his tone soft but certain. His hands, strong and steady, cradled my face, grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. "It doesn't have to change anything."

"But it will," I argued, my voice trembling.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern against my cheek. "I know."

The ache in my chest was something new and raw, a longing that pulsed in time with the bond, an unspoken promise tying us together. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once. My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to sift through the torrent of thoughts crashing over me.

After a moment, his demeanor grew more serious, though his thumb continued its soothing path along my cheek. “We’ll need somewhere safe to be when we accept the bond.”

I tilted my head, my eyes fluttering open as I frowned at him

In confusion. “Safe?”

His lips quirked, a knowing look in his eyes. “I’ve heard stories of what happens to couples during The Frenzy. It’s, intense.”

A shiver ran through me at his words, not from the cold, but from the vivid images that his tone—and my imagination—conjured.

Nyx raised a brow, clearly catching the direction of my thoughts, but I quickly stammered, “Just cold.”

“Cold?” His smirk returned, though it was softer this time, laced with something tender. “Here.”

Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The warmth of it enveloped me immediately, carrying his scent—fresh air, cedarwood, and something uniquely him.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as his hands lingered for a moment, making sure the jacket sat snugly around me.

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too widely. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Princess,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary before he settled back, his hand casually brushing against mine.

And just like that, the air between us shifted again—lighter, easier, yet still charged with something deeper.

“We’ll figure this out,” Nyx said softly, his confidence unwavering.

Looking at him now, his jacket around my shoulders and a small, reassuring smile on his lips, I knew he meant it.

And then, as if he couldn't resist, he kissed me again.

This one was gentle, hesitant, but filled with so much care it nearly unraveled me. His lips lingered on mine, soft and warm, making it impossibly hard to focus.

"Lucien," I blurted out, pulling back suddenly.

Nyx blinked, his brows furrowing at my abrupt shift. "What about him?"

An idea began to form, one I clung to like a lifeline. "Lucien—you know him, don't you?"

"He's married to my aunt," Nyx said cautiously, his tone laced with curiosity.

I nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place in my mind. "My father lets me visit the Day Court now that Lucien is ruling there. Maybe... maybe I can convince him to let me stay with Lucien for a while. You could find a reason to be there too."

His lips pressed into a thin line, his mind clearly racing through the implications. "And when you have to return to the Spring Court?" he asked, his voice measured.

"We'll figure it out then," I said, shaking my head. The thought of leaving him made my chest tighten painfully, but I pushed through the discomfort. "I just... I want this. I want us."

His answer was immediate, the conviction in his voice struck a chord deep within me. "I do too."

"Good," I said, a small, tentative smile forming on my lips. "Then tomorrow, I'll talk to my father. In the meantime, you can talk to me using your Daemati powers. Can't you?"

He nodded, his sapphire eyes softening as they roamed over my face.

"We'll be fine," I said, my voice steadier now, the words carrying a newfound determination.

Nyx mirrored my smile, and for a moment, it felt as though the world narrowed to just the two of us. This male—who had teased me, infuriated me, and unraveled me in the span of a week—had somehow wormed his way into my heart. And now, with the bond tying us together, I couldn't imagine life without him.

"Are we okay with Lucien and your aunt knowing?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper as the thought hit me.

"They'd be the first people I'd tell out of my entire family," he said without hesitation.

"Me too," I agreed softly.

His thumb brushed against my cheek again, his touch both soothing and electrifying. "We'll be fine," he repeated as if trying to convince us both.

But as he said it, I believed him.

The warmth between us lingered as we sat on the bench, the conversation flowing back into the easy rhythm of banter. He teased me about my lack of subtlety in staring, while I reminded him that he was the one who practically glowed under the moonlight, making it impossible not to.

But the night was growing late, and the weight of reality began to creep in.

"I should get you back to Summer's borders," Nyx finally said, his voice tinged with reluctance.

I sighed, not wanting the night to end, but I nodded. "You're right."

He stood and offered me his hand, which I took without hesitation. "Three days," I said as we began walking out of the cave. "Meet me in Day."

He smiled, a flash of teeth and mischief. "Three days."

—

When we reached the border, the air seemed heavier, more final. I turned to him, feeling the pull of the bond even as I prepared to leave. I shrugged off the jacket he had draped over my shoulders and held it out to him.

"Here," I said. "Take it back. If my father sees it, he'll have questions."

He crossed his arms, smirking. "Keep it."

I frowned. "Nyx—"

"Nope. You keep it. Hide it if you're worried about your father. Or don't. Either way, it gives me an excuse to see you again."

I gave him a flat look, but his smugness only deepened.

"Nyx," I repeated, more firmly this time, shoving the jacket into his chest.

He caught it easily but didn't take it. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. "Princess, if you give it back, I'll have no reason to track you down. And that would be such a shame."

I stared at him, torn between exasperation and amusement. His logic was infuriatingly charming, and the grin he wore told me he knew he was winning.

"Fine," I relented with a dramatic sigh, clutching the jacket back to my chest. "You win."

His smile softened into something warmer as he leaned down, brushing a kiss against my lips. It was quick, light, and left me wanting more.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice like a caress.

I huffed a laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Don't push it."

But he kissed me again, this time slower, deeper, his hands sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer. I melted into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved against mine.

"Nyx," I whispered against his mouth, the word half a chuckle. "I have to go."

"One more," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

I hesitated, but the bond between us tugged insistently, and I found myself nodding. "Fine."

This time, he kissed me like he wanted me to remember it, to carry the taste of him back with me to Spring. His hands framed my face as his lips claimed mine, the kiss lingering, searing itself into my memory.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breathing uneven. "Three days," he whispered.

"Three days," I echoed, my voice soft, but my resolve firm.

With one last lingering glance, I winnowed back to Spring Court Manor, the taste of him still on my lips and his jacket clutched tightly in my hands.

My father was going to kill me.

Read part three here.

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[fragiledewdrop]

And I never once said any of us is superior to any of us. Believing that some actions are pure evil and some are not, does not equal that.

To be honest I’m not in the mood to fight or argue or even have a discussion, I am utterly tired and I don’t have the mental energy to engage. Just respect me and my opinions, just as I did. Agree to disagree and let us both continue on.

Take care.

Yeah, okay. I reread the post and I think I understand now. (Maybe)

I didn’t perceive any of this as an argument. Not even a discussion. Just a conversation.

When I said "you" all throughout my rant, I didn’t mean you you, as in "prongsismyfave". I meant a general you. "You" as in "anyone who reads". And I thought of myself as included in that "you".

I wasn't trying to attack you or accuse you of anything. I can see now, though, after receiving you asks, thinking "what?" and going through my post again, that it definitely sounded that way.

It wasn’t you who thinks you are superior to someone else: it's me. I have thought that. I know other people who have thought that, unsconsciously: "I would know good from bad, I would never do something so evil." ( I don't know anything about what you specifically think, or what you would do. Maybe you would know good from evil, who am I to say you would not?)

So that's what I meant.

I do respect your thoughts. In my defense, I wrote that post during the night with a fever, and along the way I forgot I was talking to someone specific. I think I attacked you without meaning to.

(By the way, I actually agree that some actions are inherently evil. The point of that long post was that it's not always easy to recognize that while they are happening. Pure evil does exist, but no one believes they are the agents of it.They might realize it along the way, or after, but generally speaking people don't think "I am going to do something truly evil today because I want to be evil for evil's sake". They think they are doing something good, or, most often, necessary, and sometimes they are wrong. Like I just proved, apparently. Because I attacked you, while actually I wasn't even trying to say you were wrong: I thought you were right, and was just adding to it, and ended up making a mess -.- Maybe you don’t agree with this anyway, which is fine, of course. We don’thave to debate each other, whe both have a life to live. I am just trying to make myself clear.)

Sorry. You can ignore this if you want, or I can edit the post to cancel your name or delete it completely. I honestly didn’t mean to start an argument, or make you feel bad.

[bigboysteveharrington]

Eddie lowkey outing himself by accident but Robin’s the only one that’s even certain that’s what’s happening

Eddie’s finally graduated and he’s having a celebratory bonfire with the Hellfire Club and Steve and Nancy and Robin at it. They’re out by Skull Rock so that they won’t get shit or noise complaints from other people in the trailer park. They’ve already ceremonially burned 6 years worth of Eddie’s notes and homework and failed tests by the time Eddie goes off on his own

Which later, he’ll realize wasn’t a great choice. But it’s supposed to be safe in Hawkins with all the gates closed now and in the moment, he just knows that his bladder has caught up to all the drinking and he really needs to take a leak. And okay, maybe he goes a little further away from everyone than is strictly necessary, but he has a shy bladder

And it’s fine at first. He takes a piss and zips his pants back up and goes to head back to where everyone else is but then he gets cut off by the latest kind of demo-monster to be on the loose in Hawkins and he has nothing on him but his wallet, his lighter, and a pack of cigarettes so he is certain that he’s really dead meat this time

He stumbles backwards in his rush to get away from the demo-thing and ends up falling over a broken branch and landing on his ass. The things still moving closer and they’re not supposed to like fire, so he pulls his lighter out and holds the pathetic little flame at arm’s length and yells at it to keep back as if that’s going to do anything. He shouts at it as loud as he can, but he’s the one that brought the boombox and set the volume at the highest so he’s not holding out a lot of hope about being heard and he doesn’t know that it would really help if any of them heard him anyway. So mostly he just thinks he’s dragging out his own death by making the thing come after him slightly more hesitantly because of the fire

But Steve notices Eddie sneak off on his own and it hasn’t been that long, but he thought he’d be back by now, so he’s already contemplating going to check that he’s fine when he hears something off in the direction Eddie went over the shitty music

And clearly Nancy heard it too because she’s already rushing off in that direction and while Robin and the kids rush after her to see what’s going on and Eddie’s out of the loop friends look at each other confused about what’s going on, Steve grabs a big ass stick off the ground and pours the last of his drink over the end and dunks it in the fire and then grabs a big ass bottle of vodka for good measure because even though he couldn’t totally hear what Eddie called out and even though this might just be Eddie up to his usual dramatics on the way back, Steve knows there’s a very real chance that it’s not and that once again the nightmare with the Upside Down isn’t really over like they thought it was and there’s no way he’s risking rushing in as weaponless as everyone else and putting them all in danger. He’ll be the weird guy that chased Eddie with a flaming tree branch to his Hellfire friends if he has to be because he’ll take that over risking anything happening to anyone there

Eddie’s lying on his back on the ground with the full body weight of the demo-thing on him and he’s got his eyes clenched shut and he’s holding on tight to his lighter with his hands up with to protect his face as if that’s going to do anything to stop this thing from ripping him to shreds, but then suddenly there’s a squelching thwack and then an awful ear-splitting screeching and there’s nothing holding Eddie down anymore. He opens his eyes and sees Steve beating the thing with a flaming tree branch and Nancy grabbing an equally large not flaming stick to join in while everyone else rushes over to check that Eddie’s okay. And then Steve warns Nancy to back up and throws the vodka bottle at the demo-thing and lights it fully on fire

It takes a bit for it to burn and Eddie to remember how to stand back up, but by the time he does, Eddie’s adrenaline is still running wild and he’s floating on the natural high that comes with narrowly escaping death. He tells the kids he’s fine and gets up and then turns to Steve and starts heading toward him while he laughs and gushes, “That was incredible. I was sure I was sure I was a goner and then there you were just casually pulling off the most badass move I’ve ever seen out of anyone. Seriously dude. That was awesome. I swear I could kiss you right now.” Which he emphasizes by grabbing Steve’s face in both hands and then planting a quick dramatic kiss on him and he only really realizes what he’s done in front of everyone after he’s already let go of his face so he quickly rushes to add, “Seriously, I could kiss all of you right now” but then nope, that’s not a good cover either and he realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, so he quickly adds, “I mean not any of you kids because that’d be weird, but” and thankfully Robin chimes in with “I’m good without” and Nancy quickly adds that she is too so Eddie doesn’t have to start kissing all of his friends near his age just to try to cover for the whole heat of the moment kissing Steve before thinking it through thing. And Steve hasn’t hit him, so that’s a good sign that he might get out of this with people just assuming this is another one of his eccentricities and nothing serious

The kids and Nancy just assume that the kiss was just an extension of his dramatics and that he thought it would be funny. Robin is onto Eddie, but not about to say anything about it. Steve’s too busy with his internal huh, okay… apparently I like that to even start considering Eddie’s motives until long after the kiss has actually happened

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 4: Under The Heart Tree]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

A/N: I wanted to take a moment to give a heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone who has fallen in love with this series!!! I read (and go back to reread) every single comment, reblog, tag, and message I receive, and they mean the absolute world to me. I truly don’t have words to express how appreciative I am of you all. With the end of Chapter 4, this series is officially halfway over; there will be 8 chapters total. I hope you continue to enjoy it. 💜

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, witchcraft, a wild Aegon appears, drama, pregnancy, a tiny bit of sexual content, mentions of death and violence (per usual), cryptic Helaena prophesies, Sir Criston being a supportive stepdad, found family feels, one (1) still jealous boi, more drama, lots of shouting, this fic is for readers 18+!!!

Word count: 6.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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“What do you need?” Aemond asks—his voice tender, the back of his hand testing the heat of your cheeks—and you tell him. He gathers everything: foxglove, sorrel, mint leaves, sticks of cinnamon, snakeskin, bloodstone, clear quartz, a blue candle, black tar rum, blood from a living bull. He does this swiftly and without any hesitation. He knows that only you have the power necessary for a cure.

In the dead of night, the prince half-carries you to the heart tree in the godswood of the Red Keep. You try to grind the dry ingredients into dust with the mortar and pestle, but your hands are weak and trembling. Aemond takes the tools from you and finishes himself. He sets the candle on a gnarled, ancient root and sparks it to life with the dagger and flint your mother gave you before you left Bear Island. Then he pours the dust into a pitcher and slowly mixes in the rum and the bull’s blood. The candlelight dances on his face: shadow, light, shadow again. All the while, here where the Old Gods can hear you, you chant this over and over: “Mend the bones, fill the veins, stitch the flesh until it’s whole again.”

Aemond grimaces as he stirs the contents of the pitcher with the dagger blade. “You don’t have to drink this or paint it on your bedroom walls or something, do you?”

You smirk wanly. “Not quite.” And that’s fortunate, because you haven’t been able to drink anything in days.

Back in the Red Keep, the servants to fill your bathtub with water so hot it clouds the room with steam. Once they’re gone, Aemond helps you into the tub and then adds the pitcher’s crimson brew. You steep in a shimmering, blood-red sea and feel the sickness sweat out of you: the nausea, the tremors, the pain, the repulsive bone-deep weakness. Aemond perches on the rim of the tub and braids your hair to keep it tucked neatly away, singing softly in High Valyrian, words you haven’t learned yet.

“I don’t deserve you,” you murmur in the dreamlike haze of blood and heat and relief, nearly asleep. Your cramped muscles have unraveled like loose threads. The anxious, scratching demons that live in your skull are blessedly chained at the moment.

“You do,” he replies. When he leans down to kiss the crown of your head, you can hear the smile in his voice. “You always will.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sleep recedes from you like a waning crescent moon. Sounds of the morning breathe in through the open windows: birdsong, faraway voices, clops of horse hooves, wind in the leaves. You stretch, tentatively measuring the strength of your body; there is no aching, no fragility, no absence of strength like smothered embers. Your spell worked. You are cured. The triumph swells through you, a dazzling sort of fever. And then when you open your eyes, you see him.

You yelp like a startled animal. “What—?!”

“Good morning,” Aegon says brightly. He’s cross-legged on top of your writing desk and brandishing a cup of wine in his right hand.

You sit upright with a groan. “You need to stop doing this.”

“I have things to say that you should hear.”

“What?” you reply crossly.

Aegon sips his wine. “My mother has formally invited Borros Baratheon and his daughters to court. She did it a while ago, actually, but she’s been keeping it quiet. She didn’t want to give Aemond too much time to brood, I think. They are arriving in one week. There is going to be a feast. Lots of dancing, lots of diplomacy, and—my personal favorite—lots of drinking.” He raises his cup in a mock toast.

“Fantastic,” you say flatly.

“The thing is, Jason Lannister heard about this little development all the way out in Casterly Rock, so now he’s sending his daughters to court too. And so are the Arryns, and the Starks, and the Tullys and Tyrells, and Greyjoys too, if they can find anyone who counts as a lady. Maybe even the Westerlings and Swyfts and Swanns, you know…just in case they can pull an upset.” He takes another swig of wine. “It’ll be just like a horse market, except that all the horses walk on two legs and wear dresses.”

“One week…” Everything in you sinks. I knew this was coming, of course I did…but does it have to happen so fucking soon? Then again, maybe any time would feel too soon, months or years or decades. Maybe eternity with Aemond wouldn’t be long enough.

“No matter which horse wins, the result will be the same,” Aegon continues. “An engagement will be announced and my brother will soon wed in the Great Hall and set about the glorious task of producing heirs.”

“Okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

“I thought you might benefit from having the opportunity to prepare yourself. To devise an exit strategy. To…” He considers this next word carefully. “Cope.”

“Oh,” you realize, staring at him. You’ve never been able to get a handle on Aegon Targaryen. He’s not attentive to Helaena—she gets companionship from Aemond, from Alicent, from Otto, from you, but not from her husband—yet to your knowledge he’s never been cruel to her either. He does not ridicule her many peculiarities. He does not criticize her. On the rare occasion that he shares her bed, you overhear no sounds of mistreatment, no weeping or shouting or coercion. Aegon never leaves marks of violence on his wife, which is more than you can say for your own father. He neglects his duties, but he does not rebel against them. He’s done horrible things, surely, blatantly; and yet somehow he does not strike you as a particularly horrible person. “You’re not here to torment me. You’re trying to be helpful.”

Aegon smiles, but there’s very little humor in it. “You can keep that to yourself. No one would believe you anyway.”

He hops down to the floor, guzzles the last of his wine, and leaves the empty cup on your dresser before vanishing through the doorway like a ghost.

~~~~~~~~~~

The gardens are buzzing with bees and gossip. You sit in the midst of a stiflingly mundane tea party and try to remain present enough to smile and nod at the correct moments. You wring your pendent—moonstone gem, silver chain—as Helaena eats lemon cakes beside you, humming contently. She is technically the host of this gathering. It’s meant as a welcome to the noblewomen who have already begun to arrive at court, an opportunity for them to mingle and sample the luxuries of King’s Landing and prove themselves as future wives and mothers. So far, all they’ve proven themselves as is vapid and shallow and frustrating; although perhaps you only feel that way because one of them might be destined to marry the man you love. Aemond hasn’t mentioned the feast to you yet. He never mentions anything related to his impending marriage to some other woman. You’re afraid to bring it up. You’re afraid to break the euphoria you’ve been living in with him like a spell.

As your attention wanders, you notice a spot of blood on the sleeve of your dress. Before the tea party, you and Helaena had been watching Aemond and Sir Criston spar in the courtyard. That particular exchange had been bloodless, but then Ivar Kellington had broken the nose of some hulking Arryn man deluded enough to challenge him. The droplets had sprayed into the crowd like burgundy rain. The match lasted about twelve seconds.

Look at me, having some illustrious gilded blood after all. Ha ha ha.

Across the table, several noblewomen have veered into a covert discussion of one of King’s Landing’s greatest scandals: the indiscretions of Prince Aegon. You can’t catch every word, but you can catch enough of them. Which means Helaena can too.

“A handmaiden…that’s what I heard…yes, I know…what an embarrassment…well you can’t give them all moon tea, now can you?”

You glare at them—a Tyrell girl, you observe now, and a Lannister and a Tully—but they continue their prattling. Helaena rises from her chair and hurries off into the foliage with tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Hey,” you begin, but still the ladies take no notice.

“Little blond children all over the city…more brothels than you could…and the fighting pits…”

“Hey,” you say again, leaning over the table. Now they look at you. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?!” cries the Tyrell.

“How dare you!” says the Lannister.

The Tully blubbers: “It’s not like she understands anyway—”

“She does understand.” Your voice is fierce and black and low. “She understands everything. She is your future queen and you’ve upset her with your stupidity. She’s too kind to tell you that to your faces, to make you pay for it. Her kindness is chronic and all-consuming. But I suffer from no such affliction.”

“You seem to suddenly think very highly of your station,” the Tyrell notes. “I wonder what has instilled such confidence in you, Lady Mormont.”

“Yes,” says the Lannister. “Has your family recently acquired some new lands…or titles…or armies…or anything?’

“No.” The Tyrell grins viciously. “They still just have poor little Bear Island. I wouldn’t even be able to find it on a map.”

“Perhaps that isn’t something to brag about,” you say, and storm away from the tea party before she can puzzle out what you mean. You can feel their narrowed eyes following you, cold and conspiratorial.

You find Helaena by a towering butterfly bush. Winged insects in a hundred different colors swoop around her like snowflakes. Silent tears stream down her ruddy face.

“Helaena…” You move to comfort her, then think better of it. She can be very particular about being touched. “I’m so sorry,” you offer, not knowing what else to say. It’s not like the girls were lying. Their words were terrible, and they should not have been said in earshot of Helaena; but they were true.

“Dragons do not speak our language,” Helaena says haltingly, deliberately. A sapphire-blue butterfly lands on her outstretched hand. “But still, they understand. To think they don’t is a mistake.”

“Yes,” you agree.

“They are not stone. They feel as deeply as we do.”

“Yes,” you say again. She means herself, of course; woven in the womb to speak differently, to think differently, to be so irretrievably different. And yet you find every thread of her wonderous.

She opens her arms wide. For a moment, you don’t understand what she wants; and then you embrace her. She clutches you tightly, digging her fingernails into your shoulder blades, burying her face in your neck. You can feel her tears there, hot and flowing freely.

“It’s alright,” you soothe. “Everything’s okay. You are so loved. You are so blameless.”

“I want to help you,” she says softly between sobs.

“Help me…? Help me with what, Helaena…?”

“I want to help you,” she repeats; and then she plods off, swiping tears from her eyes with both hands, still surrounded by a blizzard of butterflies.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I have to talk to you about something,” Aemond says.

You are sitting together under a juniper tree on Bearstone with a picnic you’ve assembled: breads, cheeses, cherry and apricot jams, glossy red apples, honey cakes, wine for him, pomegranate juice for you. The kitchen staff had shot you sideways glances as you plucked each item from their cupboards. They know you’re Helaena’s lady-in-waiting, but they also know that you’ve been spotted socializing with the royal family with increasing frequency. There are whispers, and there are rumors, but if Alicent and Otto Hightower are aware of them they haven’t mentioned anything to you. Perhaps they feel it’s not even worth mentioning. Perhaps they expect the problem to be imminently remedied by one of those gorgeous, wealthy, well-connected women sauntering around the Red Keep.

“Okay.” You steel yourself for what comes next. You’ve known this was coming since the very beginning, since your arrival in King’s Landing, since before he ever touched you; Aemond Targaryen must marry, and he must marry well. Your hand settles protectively, instinctively over your belly, where your child lives unbeknownst to the rest of the world. You will be showing within a few months. What happens next will not only affect you. The prince’s affection for you is such that you now trust him not to leave you abandoned, adrift…but which path will he choose for you? He could give some lord a generous reward in exchange for marrying and providing for you…although given his territorial nature, this seems unlikely. He could send you back to Bear Island. He could send you to Dorne, where he counts the maesters among his few true friends. He could send you anywhere. He could set up a small household in the Crownlands somewhere, visit you a few times a year, know his child only as a passing thought. Regardless, you will lose him, whether in part or in whole; regardless, he will drain away from you like spilled blood.

Aemond says: “I think we should marry as soon as possible.”

Your mouth falls open. The apple you’ve been holding rolls out of your grasp. “You can’t marry me.”

“Why? You don’t consent?”

“No, I…” You shake your head, staring at him, stunned. You can’t find your words. “I…I’m a Mormont.”

He smiles. “I am aware of this, Moonstone.”

“Then surely you are also aware that there are currently about fifty highly-esteemed noblewomen in King’s Landing prepared to fight to the death for a chance to marry you. And that Otto Hightower and your mother are expecting a prompt betrothal to one of them.”

“I won’t do it,” he says calmly.

“You have to.” It pains you to say it, it flays you alive to say it, but it’s true. “I know that. I’ve always known it.”

“I have met my match in you. I will have no other. And my child must be legitimate.”

“They won’t allow it, they’ve planned this for years, they need this marriage—”

“Then Daeron can do it,” Aemond says. “There is one more son of King Viserys, is there not?” Daeron is younger than Aemond. He’s been serving Lord Ormund Hightower as a squire in Oldtown since he was twelve. You’ve heard that he’s a sweet boy, a compliant boy, more humble than either of his brothers. But he won’t be ready to marry for another few years. Aemond peers out over the ocean, meditative, melancholy. “I have already given enough to this family.” His eye, he means; his eye and his dragon and his swordsmanship and his fierce, efficient loyalty. “They will not take you from me too.”

You watch him, the wheels in your mind whirling. Is it possible? Is it really? When he turns back to you, he is at once himself again, or at least the way he is with you: kind, gentle, alight.

“What do you think, Moonstone?” Perhaps he’s nervous, but he’s hiding it well.

“I think that there is nothing I want more than to be bound to you in every way possible.”

“You must truly consider it,” he warns. “If you are my wife, you are inextricably linked to our side in what comes after. You must fully understand what you are entering into. Nothing can stop me from having you except your own will. If you have rethought your allegiances, or if you cannot bear to face the bloodshed…I can send you somewhere safe. I can make you disappear.”

What comes after. War, he means; the war of succession that will almost certainly follow the ailing King Viserys’ death, whether in a week or a month or a year. On one side will be Rhaenyra and Daemon. On the other will be Alicent’s children. You know exactly where you’ll be standing. “I understand, and I consent. I will shy away from no battles.”

Aemond closes the space between you. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly, deeply, sending dragonfire heat spiraling down to every piece of you: nerves, arteries, bones, heart.

“So you aren’t bored of me yet,” you tease, climbing into his lap, your fingers tangling in his silver hair. Your freshly renewed body fits with his perfectly, effortlessly, like the black of night around the stars.

“Regrettably, I am not even the least bit bored of you.”

“I hope I don’t get you killed.”

“I’m sure you’d have a spell to fix that.”

You laugh, and he kisses you again, grinning, greedy. You respond eagerly, melding into his rhythm. Blood rushes to your cheeks. Your heartbeat races. The ocean wind is strong and tearing, the grass beneath your knees soft.

“Hm. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” your betrothed murmurs, his palms pressed into the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

“Me too.”

“And you’re hungry again.”

“Starving,” you amend, grinding your hips against his, turning his face away with your hand so you can bite the soft white skin of his throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps. His right eye is dazed, rapt, lost in you like a labyrinth; his sapphire glistens like sunbeams reflected off the crests of waves. You guide his hands beneath your dress so he can feel how wet you are. And he whispers slyly as he helps free you from all those cumbersome layers of fabric: “I told you you’d always be mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aemond has studied the marriage rituals of the North. He knows them almost as well as you do. And so what must happen next is clear.

He comes to collect you from your room when the moon is high and the rest of the Red Keep dreaming. He looks the same as he always does—dressed in black, hair long and flowing, stoic and unsmiling until he sees you—and there are no special ornaments for you either. Weddings witnessed by the Old Gods are not strewn with guests or festivities or music or gold. They are vestiges of long, dark, cold winters when survival itself was a triumph. They are bare; they require only the meeting of two honest souls. And a heart tree.

Aemond grazes a thumb across your cheekbone, marveling at you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” And you are: completely, absolutely, with every drop of blood in your veins.

He takes your hand in his. He leads you from the room. And then, on the other side of the door, you discover Helaena. Both you and Aemond halt mid-step.

“Can I come too?” Helaena asks timidly. Moonlight glows on her angelic face. “I would like to be there. I would like to see you happy. Someone should be happy…if not me and Aegon, if not Mother and Sir Criston, if not the king…then at the very least you two should be.”

“Helaena…” Your words cut off, choked by emotion. You reach for her. She burrows into your arms with no reluctance at all. “Of course, my love,” you say, holding her. Aemond gazes at you, smiling faintly, immeasurably proud. “Of course. You are always, always welcome.”

In the godswood, under the cold fire of infinite constellations, the three of you arrive at the heart tree. You carry no torches to attract the attention of others. In the darkness, there is no discerning the color of the grass or the bark or the leaves. All the world is a murky, placid indigo; all the world is blind to arbitrary mortal designations of good and evil.

“There’s one thing I should mention,” Aemond says. “I have arranged for us to have a witness. I know they aren’t necessary in the North—the Old Gods themselves are the witnesses, seeing through the heart tree like a window—but I thought it would be wise for us to have someone of widely-regarded integrity to confirm that this marriage occurred. There can be no disputing it later.”

This is sensible. Your palm skates over your belly before you remember to stop yourself; you must get into the habit of giving away no clues of your pregnancy…until your marriage is public, at least. “But who…?”

Sir Criston Cole trudges into the godswood in full armor. “Alright Aemond, you better not be forcing me to help you catch and cut open a bull again, I’ve still got the bruises from last time, good gods…” He stops dead when he sees you. “Oh. So this has been the cause of your distraction.”

“Sir Criston, Lady Mormont and I are to marry.”

Sir Criston’s eyes are wide and blinking. “…Marry…?”

“Yes,” Aemond says. “Immediately.”

“What? Where…?”

“Here.” He turns to the heart tree in explanation.

Sir Criston stares blankly at the three of you, then shakes off his paralysis. “Oh no. No no no. Your mother would murder me.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

“Aemond…” Sir Criston begins, petrified.

“I am asking you to serve as a witness because of the love you bear for me and my family,” the prince says. “And I am asking you to keep this from my mother and grandfather. Not for long, mind you. Just until the feast has passed and the nobles have returned home to their own castles. Then I will inform my family in private, and they can soften the blow by offering Daeron’s hand in marriage to whichever house they decide they like best. This is not treason, Sir Criston. It is a mark of the profound trust I have in you.”

“Oh gods. Gods help me.” Sir Criston covers his face with his hands and stays that way for what feels like a very long time. Fireflies illuminate the cool night air like stars. Several land on the sleeves of Helaena’s gown and shine there like jewels. “Okay,” Sir Criston agrees at last. “I’ll do it, Aemond. I’ll do it for you.”

The prince embraces the lowborn knight, perhaps the best swordsman in the realm. “You’re the closest thing I have to a father.”

“I know.” Sir Criston’s mouth quivers. His dark eyes are slick. “Now let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”

You and Aemond join hands under the rustling leaves of the heart tree. Sir Criston stands beside the prince; Helaena stays near you. There is a distant rumbling of thunder. Sparce raindrops begin to fall. Aemond doesn’t know the vows used in a Northern wedding, you realize, and you can’t remember them well from the marriage ceremonies you attended as a child; from what you can recall, they are generic, plain, ‘who comes to take this woman?’ and that sort of thing.

“What should we say, wife?” the prince asks you, smiling, starlight in his eye. Suddenly, you are alone with him here in the godswood. You are the last people in Westeros, in the entire world. Winter has come and gone and left nothing but two ghosts doomed to dwell together here for eternity.

You speak without first thinking of what to say. The words flow through you like a river. “In the sight of gods and men, I bind myself to you. I will run from no battles, I will crave no flesh but yours, I will put no cause before your own. I pledge to you any strengths that I possess and I vow to slay my weaknesses. I am yours, body and soul. Use me as you will, but only out of love.”

Aemond repeats these words, and then he kisses you. Helaena claps; Sir Criston bows his head to hide a small, sincere smile. Rain falls as you all hurry back inside the Red Keep.

For the very first time, Aemond takes you to his own bed, to the room where you cast the spell of protection that saved him in the joust. There are still remnants of dust on the floor; he could not bring himself to erase you. As your clothes fall away, flashes of lightning reveal every line and birthmark and scar. There is no shyness. You know every stitch of each other already. You make love with gentle, exquisite slowness as the storm builds outside: his fingers woven through yours, his thrusts deep, his whispered promises heavy with truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I have something for you,” your husband says as you stand together by the fireplace in the privacy of Helaena’s chambers. In the flames, dry wood pops and crackles. “For the feast.”

“We are so well matched you will not believe it,” you reply. “I have something for you too.”

Helaena brings it over: a tunic that you have been embroidering together for days. It is black—Aemond’s preferred color—but decorated with a dragon of silver thread. The beast winds around the wearer’s back and waist and arms, breathing cool glistening fire.

“It’s supposed to look like Vhagar,” you explain. “But…well…I’m not quite as good at embroidery as Helaena is, so the face is a little…and the wings…”

“It’s perfect,” Aemond says, beaming. And then again: “It’s perfect!” He yanks off his plain black tunic and replaces it with the one you’ve gifted him. “Now I will appear especially dashing for all my prospective wives.”

Helaena giggles, blushing a cheerful pink. She is elated to be in on a joke, to have been trusted with information of such consequence. She points at the silver dragon. “Be cautious with her. She will not always listen.”

“Who, Vhagar?” Aemond asks. “She listens well enough. I’ve tamed her. I’m good at taming all manner of beasts…dragons…bulls…bears…” He grabs you by the waist and draws you to him, kissing the side of your face over and over until you squeal and push him away, laughing. “As for my gift…” He calls for the servants and they enter with a gown. They hand it to the prince, casting you a wary glance, and then disappear again. The gown is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. The color is subtle, shimmering, opalescent, almost…

“It’s…it’s…”

“Moonstone,” Aemond says. He gives it to you. The fabric flows like water. “I commissioned it the day after the joust. No one else will have anything like it. I’ll be able to spot you anywhere in the room.”

“I doubt you’ll have time to notice me. There will be a plethora of views to enjoy.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “But you’ll be the best.”

He leaves to accompany Alicent as she enters the feast while you and Helaena finish getting ready. Helaena’s gown is a vivid greenish-blue, and the stones in her jewelry are turquoise. There are teardrop-shaped sapphires dangling from your ears and a string of them around your left wrist, gifts from the princess. As always, your moonstone pendant hangs from your neck. You are dressed ostentatiously for a mere lady-in-waiting, particularly one from as modest a house as your own. People may wonder about that. You smile to yourself. They won’t have to wonder long.

The Great Hall is radiant with music and conversation and candlelight. The most celebrated houses of Westeros mingle: the men boasting about their lands and their swords (which hang at their belts in scabbards of leather or metal), the women boasting about their wombs, the children boasting about their enviable betrothals. Those who don’t yet have betrothals to boast about are hoping to procure one tonight. No one pays much attention to you—the daughter of an important house, the widow of an unimportant man—unless it is to compliment your gown. You and Helaena dance together with flushed faces, giggling and twirling until you trip and fall into each other’s waiting arms. Meanwhile, Aemond—who, contrary to you, is having a great deal of attention paid to him—dutifully navigates the hall to pay his respects to the Baratheons, the Lannisters, the Tyrells, the Arryns, the Starks, on and on down the ladder. He speaks to each of the families, nodding politely to the clamoring, bejeweled daughters, before moving on to the next. He does this as quickly as he can so he can get it over with. He has never been at ease with strangers. He has never found it simple to trust them. A part of him will always be that overlooked, scorned second son, reserved by nature, suspicious by necessity; it’s just that he sometimes forgets this when he’s with you. No matter where he goes in the room, he keeps you on his good side. He watches you, he covets you.

There is one guest, and only one, who notices you and asks for a dance. Cregan Stark is young and handsome next to the other lords, nearly your same age, and you had met years before as children. He has a natural, kind charisma. He asks you about your family back on Bear Island as he carries you around the floor like a strong wind, tells you about Winterfell, offers his condolences for the loss of your mother. He doesn’t even think to mention your late husband. It is a commiseration between two Northerners in a distant land; it is a comfort to you both. As soon as Cregan Stark drops your hand and departs to awe some other lady, Aemond appears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks good-naturedly as he circles you, gliding his palm nonchalantly over your waist, your wrists, the small of your back. Your skin responds to him, goosebumps rising, lust kicking up like embers in a stirred fire.

“Diplomacy,” you reply primly.

“Hm. Perhaps we should send you to negotiate treaties.”

“I am very persuasive.”

“Yes, I know.” And he takes your hand to spin you around just once before leaving to pretend to consider marrying some other woman.

When Helaena is whisked away to dance with Otto Hightower, you pour yourself a cup of pomegranate juice and nurse it as you stand by the wall, alone. The noblewomen from the tea party toss you venomous sneers. You ignore them. You have everything they could ever want and more. Your hand settles briefly, forgetfully on your belly, and then you snatch it away.

Aegon, very intoxicated, wobbles over to you and props his back against the wall so he can keep his balance. “Hello,” he slurs.

“Hello.”

“I thought you might like to disparage the candidates with me,” he says, then gestures with his wine cup. “Look at that Floris Baratheon. Ears like a fucking donkey.”

You chuckle, hiding your face guiltily behind your own cup. “Shh. She’s not so bad.”

“You seem to be handling this remarkably well. Perhaps my brother has bored you, perhaps you have had your fill of him. Or perhaps you aren’t so heartbroken because he’s planning to keep you around as his mistress. I wouldn’t have guessed that to be his style, but upon second thought, you have thoroughly corrupted him. In that case, he should choose the donkey for sure. Someone stupid and docile. You can have rooms on opposite ends of the Red Keep and there will be no need for you to claw each other’s eyes out.”

“I’m not an animal, Prince Aegon.”

“You’re a Mormont. That’s hardly better.”

You smile. He smiles back.

Aegon leans into you, unsteady but not purposefully intrusive. “You’re worth more than all of them put together. I’m sorry that’s not what matters.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“We are natural allies,” he says, and clinks his cup against yours in a toast. Fortunately, he is too drunk to notice that you’re avoiding wine this evening. That would certainly raise some suspicions. “I know your secret, and you know mine.”

“What…?” And then you understand. Your secret is your relationship with Aemond, that part is easy. Aegon’s secret is a bit more obscure. What perhaps no one else knows is that there is more to him than brash words and wicked deeds and flippant, lazy recklessness. That he loves his family. That—somewhere way down deep, unspoken but alive—he cares.

Aegon shoves himself away from the wall and gives you a parting bow, clumsy and lurching. “Enjoy your evening as best you can. I’m going to go piss on the floor.”

“Cheers,” you reply. He staggers away, leaving you alone again.

As the Great Hall whirls around you like a galaxy, you bask in the warm glow of this moment, this liminal space like a doorway. There will be grumbles, surely, but what you and Aemond have forged cannot be undone. No one can take away your marriage. No one can take away your child. You knew unconditional love once, long ago on Bear Island, safe in your mother’s arms; now you have it again. You belong somewhere again. You took one hell of a detour, but now you are home.

You don’t feel him enter the hall, because he’s not Aemond Targaryen. He doesn’t change the room at all. You only turn because you hear rising chatter, and then elated shouts, and then the thunder of men’s handshakes and pounds on the back. You wonder who is being congratulated, who is being cheered like a soldier returning from war. When you see him, your cup drops out of your hand. Pomegranate juice floods across the floor like blood. He sees you, rushes to you; and it's the strangest thing, because it all seems to be happening very slowly, but not slowly enough for you to flee. It’s like one of those dreams where you’re trying to run but you can’t. You can’t even speak. You can’t even scream.

He is battered and bruised and thinner—harsher—than you remember, but it’s him. His name rings through the hall in a hundred different voices.

“Axel Hightower, back from the dead!”

“He survived the shipwreck! Praise the gods!”

“And now he’s come to surprise his wife!”

You are powerless to stop his approach. You are chained in place by horror. All around you, the life you thought you’d have is crumbling into dust. It’s running out of your fingers like sand in an hourglass.

“Aww, look, the poor thing is in shock! She can’t believe it!” some idiot sighs romantically. There are applause and whistles. On the periphery of your vision, you see Aegon backing away as far as he can from the dance floor. His head whips around, searching for someone.

Axel grips your arm, pulls you into him, and kisses you. It feels like being invaded. It feels like that very first night with him when he—not cruelly, no, but with a dreadful, willing ignorance—forced his way inside you until it felt like you were being sawed in half. You flinch violently; every muscle, every nerve screams to be away from him. You try to push Axel off of you, but he doesn’t budge. Why would he? He owns you, like a castle or a horse. He can do whatever he likes to you. The notion of you having desires to the contrary would never even cross his mind. There are tears bleeding down your cheeks: for you, for your child, for the future whose throat has just been slit in this room. It feels like you’re dying. You wish you were.

There is the shrill whisper of a blade being torn from its scabbard. All the guests fall silent. Axel takes a step back from you, his fingers still clamped around your forearm. Aemond holds the point of his sword to Axel’s throat. Several crimson beads drip from where the steel has pierced the paper-thin surface layer of skin. Aemond’s voice is dark, like nightfall, like onyx. His eye is blazing blue, cold fire. “Remove your hands from her, or you will lose them.”

Axel is too mystified to be outraged. He releases you. You can breathe again. “She is my wife by law.”

“She carries my child!” Aemond’s words ricochet off the walls like shattered glass. The Great Hall boils over with gasps and scandalized jabbering. “And we married under the heart tree. She is mine.”

“You what?!” Aegon blurts out.

“You what?!” Otto Hightower roars.

“Sir Criston?” Aemond calls, summoning him.

Sir Criston Cole steps out of the rabble. “It’s true,” he says. He hides his reddening face from Queen Alicent. “I witnessed it. They are wed.”

“This is an outrage!” Axel bellows, then looks to the crowd for their verdict.

“Bigamy!” someone cries out. A chorus joins them, a sea of jilted noble families who can only benefit from Axel carting you back to Oldtown.

“Whore! Whore!”

“Poor Axel Hightower escapes from the jaws of death to find this?!”

“A mortal sin!”

“Go back to your true husband!”

“Take her to the dungeons!”

Aemond steps in front of you, twirling his sword once, twice, again. “And who would like to be the first to try?”

No one moves to detain you, but the crowd’s sentiment is unmistakable, rabid. The jeers continue to rain down on you: bigamist, sinner, whore. And you can’t even decry them as slander, because they’re true. Otto Hightower is clutching the back of a chair like he might fall over without it. Alicent’s eyes are pooling with stunned, furious tears. Helaena sinks to the floor, covering her ears with both hands. After taking a moment to consider it, Sir Criston moves to stand beside Aemond and draws his own sword.

Ideas flit through Aemond’s mind like arrows. He catches one of them. As Sir Criston watches the crowd, Aemond turns back to you and touches your face with his free hand. “Say you want a trial by combat.”

“Are you sure—?”

“I can beat any man here besides Sir Criston and he wouldn’t fight me, just say it.”

“I demand a trial by combat!” you announce for all the court to witness.

“No she doesn’t!” Otto shouts, trying to drown you out.

“She does,” Aemond insists, grinning madly. “And I will be her champion.”

“Then I shall name my own!” Axel says. Already the court is chattering that there is no great cowardice in this; he is still recovering from his ordeal, far from his physical peak, and Prince Aemond is one of the best swordsmen in King’s Landing. Axel scans the Great Hall for someone, anyone, who could challenge him. Sir Criston could probably best Aemond, but he would never agree to try. His allegiances to both Alicent and Aemond are too great. Who else could there be? Who else could there possibly be?

And then Axel’s gaze lands on him. When Aemond said he could beat any man here, he wasn’t wrong. The giant the court calls Killington hardly counts as a man at all. He’s not a man; he’s a monster. And he’s been thirsty for Aemond’s blood for years. He towers over anyone else in the room; he outweighs them by double. He steps forward, answering a question that has not yet been asked.

Axel’s face splits into a grin. His eyes glint like mirrors, like blades. “I choose Ivar Kellington.”

[seongwin]

my ateez fic recs!

some of my personal fav ateez fics all in one place! for you and future me because I reread these constantly. a few of them are smuty ™ so be warned! also sorry for the terrible summaries I really suck at them! Lmao!

1. in this place, full of lies @wordstro

san x reader

I literally just finished binging this and I will never recover from it. a post-apocalyptic ex!san masterpiece!!! seriously go read it I won’t say anymore as to not spoil the fun but damn this made me feel so many things. I am in desperate need for more of this universe

2. body talk @jungkxook 18+

dirty talk pt2

pillow talk pt3

wooyoung x reader

fwb wooyoung for the win! its not even funny how i feel about these fics. like I am. I don’t think I can articulate words for this one. please. just read it. I think about it constantly.

3. summer nights and subsequently summers end @honeyhotteoks 18+

yunho x reader

okay so maybe a lot of them are smuty... IM SORRY THE WRITING IS JUST SO EXCELLENT. anyways these fics are insanity. like I LOST MY MIND while reading them. friends to lovers moment because I have a problem.

4. j.yunho + lovemaking/against a wall (18+) @hongism

yunho x reader

its like insanely domestic and i live for it. but again. I don’t think I can make coherent sentences to describe how this fic makes me feel. it’s like they took this one right of my yunho brain corner. I think about this honestly everyday and I’m not mad about it. smut language can be really cringe to read sometimes but this is NOT the case. ITS CRAZY. like. how can it know exactly what I want?? I love you sweet author. thank you for writing this TREAT!

5. ateez x bollywood @theyungihven

oh. my. god. every single one is SO GOOD. this may be my love for both ateez and bollywood movies talking but I reread these (yes all of them) at least once every 2 months. They are pretty short so its easy to read when I need something I know will get me out of a reading slump. THE PARINGS ARE PERFECT. and I’m not just saying that because Seonghwa was picked for my fav movie (DDLJ I’LL MARRY YOU MY SWEET) anyways if this tickles your fancy please read.

6. the kiss theif @shiberpostshere

seonghwa x reader smau!

super cute and got me in my feels for real. it honestly hit a little to close to home sometimes and I am now emotionally attached to this fic.

7. as the world caves in @mlngl

hongjoong x reader mingi x reader

another post apocalyptic masterpiece. Its currently on hiatus but I will patiently wait for update! Its super immersive and that might just be my love for post-apocalypse stuff but you get the point. PLEASE READ!! I was literally  searching for this because I couldn’t remember the name.. me with every fic ever.. sigh.. ANYWAYS love this fic love sweet author !

special mention to all the fics that have been lost to the tumblr taking down gods.. you will be missed... SPECIFICALLY INTERRUPTED THOUGHTS  😭😭😭😭 sweet author moved blogs... I was really invested in that fic.. can u tell...