#Something about how the same song that was used to mark the end for them is now a sign of things getting better

[some-pers0n]

BCS rendition of Something Stupid save me,

[ldrfanatic]

Crawl Home to Her

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader synopsis - you and theo had always been enemies and you thought he hated you until you found out that he loves you so much it hurts; lowkey just quite a bit of fluff lol; enemies to lovers; both theo and y/n come from death eater families and they both have the dark mark.

slytherin boys masterlist works

part two here

Inspired by Work Song by Hozier

"What do you want, Nott?" Your voice rang out and broke the silence of the moonlit hallway.

Theodore Nott had always been your enemy. Since the moment the two of you arrived at Hogwarts, you'd always hated each other. No exceptions. He pulled on the ends of your hair in potions, he mocked you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he sent stupid little notes to you in Transfigurations that conveniently burned up before you got the chance to read them.

So, yes, Theodore Nott was your enemy.

Which is why you were so surprised to hear his footsteps following you. Especially when he should be in the Slytherin Common Room enjoying the huge winter party they'd thrown.

"Couldn't sleep?"

His smooth baritone voice contrasted your airy one. Still, you couldn't decipher if he was asking you or fumbling for an excuse.

Theodore Nott was cool, calm, collected. You'd learned that much over the years. He didn't need excuses or reasons and he didn't bother to explain himself. It honestly took you by surprise when he answered your question at all.

The first time that you and Theo got into it was the second week of class in your second year. He'd never been particularly kind to you, but he hadn't been rude either. Well, until then. You'd taken to being friends with Pansy Parkinson, a fellow second year in Slytherin who had the largest crush on another Slytherin second year, Blaise Zabini. Blaise often hung out with Theo, who you'd known from first-year, and two other boys you didn't meet until that year, Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle.

The boys teased Pansy relentlessly and you stuck up for her as often as you could. Unfortunately, that seemed to paint a big target on your back and caused them to turn their mischievous acts towards you as well.

As you and Pansy were walking towards the Great Hall for lunch one day, Theodore came rushing by with the rest of their little entourage and drop a few dung bombs on the pair of you. It shouldn't have angered you to the point you felt it necessary to start a never ending feud with the boy, but it embarrassed your little 12 year old self to an irredeemable point.

You turned swiftly on the ball of your heel and faced him. He was wrapped up in his winter robes. A green and silver scarf with the initials TN was wrapped snugly against his neck but provided no protection for his reddening nose.

It was then that you took note of how cold it was in the corridor. The castle often got drafty at night, especially in the winter, and here you were, in nothing but a school skirt and thin sweater. You could still hear the roaring sounds of laughter emanating from the dungeons.

Theodore held your gaze with a pensive stare before taking a few testing steps closer to you.

"You're going to get cold, Y/n."

His use of your first name took you by notable surprise but you masked it the best that you could. It was now year six of having known Theodore Nott. Of having known his family and their affiliations. You caught a brief sight of the black ink on his left arm as he unwrapped his scarf and tugged it around your neck. The image of the dark mark made your stomach swirl, all too familiar with the itching of your own tattoo in precisely the same part of your arm.

The damn thing had, after all, been the object of your frustrations since your mother so kindly gave it to you this past summer. As you remembered the excruciating pain, you stared into Theo's eyes. Something about the thought of him enduring the sort of pain you remember it being makes your stomach twist in a weird way. Sure, you'd known the boy for years, but the same was also true of Draco Malfoy, and you didn't feel this uncomfortable twisting when you caught glimpses of his dark mark.

"Go away." When Theo made no intention of leaving, you turned back towards the large glass window and allowed your voice to crack with emotion. "Please."

The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed down the hall. The laughter got louder as he opened the door to the common room, and then finally, quiet again.

There was only one time that you got the inclination that Theodore Nott may not hate you entirely. Fifth year at Hogwarts was quite unpleasant for pretty much every Slytherin student. After Cedric Diggory's death, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and even Hufflepuff had taken to casually terrorizing Slytherin students in the halls. Whether that be ganging up to hex them or sneering at them from across classrooms.

Unfortunately, you'd found yourself in one of those situations. You'd asked to be excused from Potions to use the restroom. Yet, when you'd finished your business and began to exit, a group of three boys cornered you in the hallway. One of them, you recognized as Cormac McLaggen who asked you out the year before and was clearly still butt hurt about your albeit respectful rejection.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we have here," He stepped away from his sidekicks and caged you against the stone wall. You felt your discomfort growing as his face neared yours. "The little Slytherin bitch who thinks she's too good for everyone else." He laughed disgustingly and began getting closer until his body pressed yours against the brick.

"Tell me something, Y/n. When your parents pimp you out to all the other little Death Eaters, do all your nasty little friends get to touch you like this?" Cormac's words caused bile to crawl up your throat. He reached his hand out to touch you but before he could, a throat cleared only a few meters to the left. You thanked every God you could think of. For once, you were happy to see Theodore Nott's smug little face.

Only, he didn't look smug right now. Right now, he looked ready to send Cormac McLaggen into the afterlife. Painfully. "McLaggen, I swear on every life in this castle, if you touch her, it will be the last thing you ever do." Cormac was an arrogant prick, but even he knew better than to fuck with a Death Eater's son in these times. He didn't say a word to either of you as he took his sidekicks and all but ran from the scene.

You would have been touched. If it hadn't been for the fact that Theo immediately turned away from you before you had the chance to thank him and hadn't spoken to you since that day.

You snapped from your memories when a soft hand grabbed yours. Your head whipped around only to be met with the blinding smile of Pansy. Admittedly, she'd grown up quite pretty over the years. It was no wonder Blaise finally pulled his head out of his arse long enough to finally start dating her.

"Come on, Y/n. The party's pretty much over. Now it's just the rest of us. It's cold."

You let Pansy lead you back to the common room thankful when she didn't question the scarf around your neck. Your relief was short lived. As soon as you were within sight of the group, Mattheo whistled lowly. He opened his mouth like he meant to say something but a look from Theo left the boy smirking into his drink. You noted from his droopy bloodshot eyes that Theodore Nott was intoxicated. In fact, everyone was. Except for you. And of course, Hermione Granger who sat on the floor tucked into a smiling Draco Malfoy's side.

You were proud that you'd been the one to knock some sense into his head. For once, the boy did something for himself.

Mattheo's stare lingered on you before glancing to Theo and then back down to his drink again. "Perfect timing, Y/n. We were just deciding what to do." The thing to know about Mattheo Riddle is that he liked to cause chaos. He was, in that sense alone, his father's son. He especially loved when that chaos causing was directed at his favorite person to toy with. Theodore Nott. The pair had been best friends, practically attached at the hip since first year.

Mattheo Riddle was the only person in the room that knew of Theo's irrepressible love for you.

"I have the perfect idea." He stood on his place on the dark green couch and grabbed your wrist gently. He offered a smile as he lead you back to sit next to him. Conveniently, also right next to Theo.

"Now that the whole gang is here, I hear that our little Theo has a crush. Seeing as we pestered Draco endlessly until he finally found dear Granger over there, it only seems fair that Theo receive the same treatment." Draco made a loud noise of agreement before being shushed quietly by Hermione.

At this point, everyone had agreed and Theo was too intoxicated to stop them. You pushed down the panging in your heart at the idea of Theo liking someone and nodded numbly with the others, attempting to force a smile.

Mattheo's voice rang out again. "Afterall, Theo here is most honest without pesky inhibitions of being sober to get in the way."

Again, you tried to ignore the twisting in your stomach. Hermione, ever the curious cat was the first to speak up.

"When did you start liking her?"

Theo sat quietly for so long you were convinced he was going to ignore the group entirely before he finally spoke up.

"Right after I got my dark mark at the start of fifth year. My sleeves rolled up a little and she saw it. After dear old dad gave it to me, I'd kind of lost all will to even try anymore. Not to mention that my body had not reacted kindly to it. I was burning up a fever. I didn't care much how long I lived. But she was so kind. She didn't judge me. She just smiled and waved."

Your gaze burned into the side of Theo's head. Not only had you never heard him so raw and honest, you'd also never even known he was feeling this way. It made you wonder how much practice the boy had with masking his emotions. Pansy shifted uncomfortably and bounced softly on her arm chair.

"My turn! Is it a friend?"

Theo hummed and took a swig of the drink in his hand. You had half a mind to snatch the bottle and drag the poor boy to bed, but you didn't want to be on the receiving end of his discontent.

"You could say that."

Draco made a noise at his clipped answer but Blaise cut in quickly. The excitement seemed to have finally spread throughout the whole party while Mattheo watched on with a disturbingly intense look.

"You said she didn't judge you for the mark. Does that mean she's a Slytherin? A death eater even?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the open talk of the dark mark but Draco's arm tightened protectively around her shoulders. He placed a chaste kiss on the side of her temple that had her body relaxing into his. The type of affection you found yourself craving for.

"I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did. Even for a Slytherin that's uncommon. Everyone wants to know. They want all the details."

Recognition passed over Mattheo's face. A look mirrored by both you and Draco. Being the children of such prominent dark figures, all four of you were familiar with the inquiries that Theo was referencing.

Finally, Draco got his opportunity to ask his question.

"Why not just talk to her then? If she's so understanding?"

Theo didn't answer. He stared at the blonde boy for a few tense moments before laughing humorlessly to himself.

"She hates me, man. I know it. I've terrorized her for years." His eyes welled up but he pushed the tears back by draining the rest of the bottle in his hand. "She's too kind for the fucked up person that I am. It hurts knowing that even when I try to be good, she can only think of me as the stupid Nott boy that's been making fun of her since first year."

Air seemed to leave every pair of lungs in the room as the attention shifted to you. A quiet accusation whispered through the air with no one brave enough to actually voice it. It didn't need to be said.

Theo purposefully kept his circle small after his father's torture over the years. There was only one girl that he'd consistently paid half a mind to at all since fourth year. You.

Theodore Nott was in love with you.

Your thoughts were confirmed when Mattheo's eyes met yours with a wink. Even further when you finally took note of all of the signs. He hadn't looked at you this whole time. He called you Y/n in the hall. In fact, now that you thought about it, he'd been calling you Y/n all year. He blew notes to you in class. He even dropped a messily wrapped present on your desk claiming it was from a secret admirer.

That alone hadn't made sense. Inside the box was a pendant that you'd seen walking in Hogsmeade with only the group of people sitting in this room. You hadn't even mentioned you wanted it.

But your gaze lingered on the piece for long enough that Theo knew he was going to buy the pendant for you.

A pendant that rested against your collarbone right now.

Suddenly, the room felt too small. The pendant was heavy on your collarbone. You could feel everyone's eyes on you but you were staring at Theo who'd taken a sudden interest in every other damn thing in the room. The group waited with baited breath before Mattheo broke the silence.

"Tsk. Theodore." He fixed an unnerving stare on you that had you subconsciously shifting a little closer to the dark haired boy on your other side. "With the war coming. You should tell her. I mean, come on. With your father's affiliations who knows what might happen to you. Either of you."

Theo's head shot up and in his drunken state, he wasn't watching how he spoke to the Dark Lord's son. Like at all.

"I don't give a damn, Mattheo. Fuck my father and his cowardly bullshit. I would burn every square inch of this planet to keep her alive." His voice was deadly serious. It didn't waver, it didn't raise. He was cool, calm, collected. Like Theodore Nott always was. For once, his eyes lit with emotion. Blazed, in fact.

You were caught by surprise when his eyes snapped towards yours. His stare was compelling. No matter how much you willed yourself to look away, his eyes pinned you. Your hand reached towards the pendant of it's own accord. His voice startled you. "As far as what might happen to me, when my time comes around, I don't care if you dump my body into the deepest ocean or lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave could hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her."

His eyes never left yours. You stared up at him for a few moments trying to decipher the look on his face. You realized with a start that none other than Theodore Nott was looking at you like he would throw everything away to kiss you right now. Like you were the only thing that mattered.

Cheers erupted from around you as you threw your arms around Theo's neck and smashed your lips against his. And there was no part of your brain that disagreed with him. There was not a bone in your body that had any intention other than giving Theodore Nott exactly what he wanted. All of you.

WC - 2681

[munson-blurbs]

Rockstar!Eddie x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Eddie's got a new girlfriend, which means you get put on the back burner indefinitely. But there's only so much you can take.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, rockstar!Eddie, takes place around 1989, drinking/tipsiness, Eddie is an idiot, kinda insecure!Reader

--

Lena was beautiful. 

There was no denying that. You’d seen how beautiful she was the night Eddie had picked her from the crowd, dark makeup and denim miniskirt that ended mid-thigh. She walked backstage like she owned the place, with a confidence you could only envy from afar. 

You were used to it: Eddie would find a groupie, they’d hook up for the night, and then she was all but forgotten as Corroded Coffin moved to their next tour destination.

But not Lena. She’d been around for the last six months. Always touching Eddie, kissing him, drawing him in with her gorgeous eyes. She was everything he wanted, and she knew it.

You tried to get along with her and get to know her; after all, she was your best friend’s girlfriend. You asked her to grab a cup of coffee, to hang out at the mall, to get your nails done at the salon. All three times, she’d turned you down with some half-hearted excuse. 

And now she was here, at your birthday party. Her legs were draped over Eddie’s as they sat on the couch, his arm around her and her fingers in his hair. All you could focus on was his smile, that same dopey grin he used to give to Chrissy Cunningham whenever she’d give him an iota of attention back in high school. 

Eddie Munson was smitten, and he had no intention of hiding his feelings.

You downed your drink, the harsh taste of vodka burning your throat, and quickly poured yourself another one. What was the saying? It’s my party, and I’ll drink myself into a stupor if I want to? Something like that.

“Hey, Birthday Girl. You okay?” Gareth spoke up, yanking you from your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized he was beside you. “I haven’t seen you drink this much since the Grammys afterparty.”

You nodded, your head heavy with tears and liquor and lies. “Fine. Just…tired.”

Gareth scoffed. “Tired of watching Eddie and Lena tonguing each other, you mean?” Your wince betrayed your indifferent facade, and Gareth laughed softly. “Yeah, me, too.” He took a swig of his own drink and continued. “I mean, I get it. She’s hot as hell, but she’s also kinda–”

“Bitchy?” The word escaped you before you could stop it, another effect of the booze.

“You said it, not me.” Gareth raised his cup in a pseudo-toast. “But, yeah. Tour went from being about the band to being the Lena Show. And if you try to push back even a little, she just pouts and whines to Eddie that we’re being mean to her.”

You rolled your eyes. There was a freedom that came with confiding in Gareth, with no longer having to keep your feelings to yourself. “He used to call me at least once a week,” you say of Eddie, “and I figured that would change once he got a girlfriend. But the last time he called me was…two months ago.”

Could you even count that? It was just Eddie saying that the tour was good and that he’d be at your party–with Lena, of course. No silly stories from the road, no play-by-play of the shows, no begging for you to come see them again soon. It was as if you’d been a temporary placeholder until a better option came along.

And now, here she was, leaving red lipstick marks on his cheek. Staking her claim.

Eddie was never yours–not like that. Not in the way you wanted him to be yours. You’d been best friends since high school, and your crush had only blossomed from there. You were drawn to him the moment you saw him command the room during Hellfire, crafting and weaving a tale of a fantastical world with magnificent and terrifying creatures. It was as though you could see it right in front of you.

That storytelling talent extended to his songwriting. Sure, some of the songs were about the heartbreak that comes with being a teenager, but so many others were rooted in big problems: war, poverty, and the general injustices of the world. You were in awe of the way his eyes saw beyond the tiny borders of Hawkins.

Gareth slung an arm around you and pulled you close. Though you’d never told him about your crush on Eddie, he knew. All of Corroded Coffin knew—and probably all of the old Hellfire crew, too. Everyone but Eddie. 

“It’ll be okay,” Gareth murmured. “He’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot, but with her, it’s amped up. Stupidity on steroids.”

You laughed at that despite the sadness brewing within you.

“Go enjoy your party. You deserve it.”

Heeding his advice, you pried yourself from the kitchen counter and over to some of the other guests. You managed to have fun, pushing away the nagging reminder of heartbreak just feet away. It got easier as the night went on—until it didn’t. 

“Baby,” you heard Lena whine. “This party sucks. I wanna go back to the hotel.”

Say no, you silently willed Eddie. Tell her that you want to stay. Tell her that she can leave, but you’re going to stick around and—

“Yeah, babe. We can go.”

Five words that anchored a pit in your stomach. He didn’t even consider an alternative option. Lena was his only priority. 

You blinked back the tears in your eyes as he said his half-hearted goodbye. Lena stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Super fun party,” she drawled, donning a saccharine smile. “So sorry we have to leave early.” With that, she grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him out of your apartment. 

The rest of the night was a blur. Even as you ate birthday cake and talked with other guests, your focus stayed on the remnants of your friendship with Eddie. Of course dynamics changed when friends got partners. But to be completely iced out? That couldn’t be normal. It shouldn’t be normal.

You decided that night that you were done. The friendship was already beyond repair. It wasn’t Lena’s fault, though it would be much easier to blame her and keep pretending that Eddie was still the same thoughtful guy from Hawkins High. No, Eddie was the problem, and the solution was letting him go.

Weeks went by, then months, with no word from Eddie. The first few days hurt, your heart still convinced that he’d call and apologize for bailing on the rest of your party. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ that might spark a flicker of hope.

It got easier after a while. You filled your days with work and friends. When you heard a Corroded Coffin song on the radio, you simply changed the station without tears falling. And when Entertainment Tonight declared that “a young woman previously linked to Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson was spotting cozying up to a more popular band’s lead singer,” you only chuckled and snapped off the TV.

The first call came a week later when you were at work. Your answering machine button flashed red, and you pressed play to hear the new message.

Hey, um, it’s me.

You froze, your blood icing over in your veins.

I know it’s been a while, but…a lot has happened. And I’ve been thinking, and I really wanna see you. Talk to you. I miss you. Um, the tour just finished, so I’ll be back in Hawkins. Let me know when you’re around.

Absolutely not. There was no way you’d talk to him again, and you finalized that decision by erasing the message.

But two days later, there was another one.

Hey, it’s me again. I was talking to Gareth, and he told me that I royally fucked up. Which I kinda knew, but hearing it from him…yeah.

Anyway, um, I don’t wanna just hang out–I mean, I do, but I wanna apologize first. In person, i-if that’s okay. I think my first message made it sound like, ‘Hey, let’s go grab a drink and bullshit around,’ but I want to say that I’m sorry. Shit, I’m rambling. Okay, I’m gonna go now. Bye.

And then another the day after that.

Okay, so, you don’t wanna meet up in person, and I get that. But I still want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll just say it here, I guess. I never should have pushed you aside like that. I got caught up in everything with the band and the tour and…and her, and…y’know. That’s not an excuse or anything, just…explaining my series of fuck-ups. I miss you so much, and I wish we could just be friends again. I know it’s not that easy, but…fuck, I fucked this up. I’m really sorry, and you don’t have to forgive me–shit, Wayne’s home. I’ll talk to you later. Or, um, talk to your voicemail, I guess.

Wayne was home. That meant that Eddie was twenty minutes away from you, leaving voicemails from his uncle’s trailer. You grabbed your jacket, willing yourself to stay focused on the road as you drove to Forest Hills. That asshole wanted to talk to you in person, but couldn’t even stammer out a genuine apology over the phone?

You knocked on the trailer door so hard that your knuckles ached by the time Eddie opened it.

“Wha–did you get my messages?” His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you standing before him.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You mean the ones with your half-assed apologies? Yeah, I got ‘em.”

Eddie took a step back. “No, no, I meant them. I really am sorry.”

“Convenient how you found time to be sorry once your girlfriend started fucking someone else,” you seethed. “Couldn’t squeeze out a minute to call after you ditched me on my birthday, but you’ve got plenty of time to grovel now.”

“That’s not–she wasn’t good for me,” he supplied lamely.

You couldn’t help the snort you let out. “What, did she hold the phone hostage? Did she pick you up and carry you out of my party? You,” you jabbed your forefinger into his chest, “are the reason we don’t talk. Not her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” You snapped. “Because I have a feeling that you think this is on Lena. And maybe she didn’t help, but she certainly didn’t force you to be a shitty friend.”

Eddie rubbed his palm over his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, the frustration evident in his tone. “I…I was a shitty friend. I never should have left your party early, and I should’ve stayed in touch with you. I should’ve listened to the guys when they warned me that you wouldn’t keep putting up with my bullshit for much longer.”

You felt a spark of reassurance that the other band members had stood up for you, but you kept your attention on what you needed to say. What you needed him to hear.

“And now what? You’re back in Hawkins, no groupies around to keep you company, so you figure it’s a good time to reach out to me?” You stepped closer to him as you spoke. “I’m not your back-up plan when your life comes crashing down. I’m a goddamn person, Eddie! And you just threw me away like our friendship meant nothing to you.”

He was silent for a few moments, his sweat sock-covered foot grinding into the carpet. His hair fell in front of his face, but you could still see him chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered his next words.

“Gareth told me…he told me that you liked me,” Eddie said softly. “Like…more than just a friend.” With trepidation, he looked into your eyes, tears forming in his own. “And he said I’m an idiot for not seeing what was in front of my face the whole time. A really beautiful woman who has always been there for me. Who never gave up on me, whether I was playing to five drunks at the Hideout or to sold-out stadium crowds.”

“Right. All of the things I’ve done for you. But what have you done for me? How have you been my friend?” You waited for him to respond, but he said nothing. “Exactly. I was just a groupie you never fucked.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride wash over you at his utter shock. “I’m–”

“I know you’re sorry. I got it.” You pivoted on one heel and turned your back to him, starting towards your car. Before you got there, you called out over your shoulder. “And if you leave me another pathetic voicemail, I’ll throw my answering machine through your window.”

Then you drove off, leaving him standing where you left him, just as alone as you’d felt all this time.

--

[bleedingoptimism]

You Are Mine part 1

When Eddie decided to come out he thought it’d be funny to do so with a music video, so he wrote a song and presented it to the band. The boys loved it and the song was declared the first one of their next album, the third one.

And then it was time to shoot the video.

They hire their personal friend and favorite director, Argyle. Just Argyle, like Cher.

Between him and Argyle they come up with a cool script. The band is going to act in it, they just need two extras, so they hold auditions for a couple in their twenties.

On the day of the auditions, Argyle tells them the interviews are mostly for show, the band can pick whoever they feel the most comfortable with, and the boys tell Eddie he should pick since it’s his song.

The five of them sit at a long table like it’s fucking American Idol or something and just stare at the couples waiting in line through a one-side glass mirror whispering among themselves and watching amused as the couples start getting progressively nervous.

There’s a couple that immediately grabs Eddie's attention when he does a pass-over, a pretty tall dirty blonde and a brunette with big soft-looking hair. 

The guy is absolutely gorgeous, with big kind eyes, a straight cute nose, a square jaw, big shoulders, a small waist, and tan skin that seems to be covered in beauty marks.

He just strikes Eddie as someone that would make Michelangelo cry with his inability to capture his perfection.

‘Oh, that’s good. I should write that.’ He thinks.

He and the girl are talking in hush tones and Eddie watches as she fixes his hair while he jabbers nervously and then, evidently says something that makes her angry because she pokes him in the ribs. The guy giggles cutely and loudly enough to carry over to their room and then blushes furiously when heads turn toward them, hiding behind his friend. The woman in question snorts and chuckles as he chastises her.

Eddie stands up, crouches behind Argyle’s chair, and tells him, “I want that one.”

“What?” he answers, so Eddie points at the couple, “I want him.”

Argyle looks at them considering and clicks his tongue and Eddie insists, “Please Argy, please, I love him, I want him, I want that one, pleaseee”

“Eddie, we need to at least consider the rest of them. This is my job we are talking about here. Please, take it seriously” Argyle says in a calm voice and Eddie deflates,

“Dude...I’m sorry I-”

“Nah man, I’m kidding!” Argyle cuts him off, “Couple number four! Please step forward!” he yells into a mike.

The blonde and the brunette look at each other and walk in nervously as Eddie goes back to his seat at the end of the table and Argyle does a small flourishing move with his hand inviting them to introduce themselves.

“Hi! My name is Robin, and this is Steve, pleased to meet you!” The girl says smiling kindly at them. She nudges Steve on the side and he does a little finger wave at them.

Eddie has to bite his lip not to smile too much because they are really fucking cute. 

Argyle returns the wave enthusiastically, because nothing ever faces him, and looks at the list he has in his hands, “Any experience acting Robin and Steve?”

Robin says yes, something about drama club in high school and Steve just shrugs which amused Eddie to no end, and frankly makes him really curious, for all intent and purposes, Steve doesn’t seem to be interested in the job.

“How did you find out about this job?” Jeff asks them, and Gareth nods like he was just about to ask the same thing.

“A friend of ours told us about it?” Robin answers “He’s a photographer but I don't want to drop names, especially in case we embarrass ourselves,” she says jokingly and looks relieved when she gets a couple of chuckles from Argyle and the band.

“And you were interested because…?” Frank inquires.

Robin starts saying some carefully prepared speech about learning experiences but is interrupted by Steve saying, “We needed the money”

“Oh my god! Shut up!” Robin suddenly turns to him completely red in the face.

“What? You told me to be myself!” Steve tells her frowning. 

“This is exactly why I always talk in interviews”

“What does that mean?” 

“You suck at this Steve! Just as much as you suck at-”

Gareth clears his throat loudly making them stop and look at him sheepishly, “So tell us, do you know the band? Are you fans?”

Eddie takes a moment to look at his bandmates and to his relief they all look as amused as he feels, especially Argyle. The couple of newbies is clearly a mess but in an endearing kind of way.

“Well…” Robin starts but doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“Never heard of it,” Steve says looking apologetic. 

“Wait, Really?” Robin asks him, once more ignoring the director and the band, “They are like, Mike’s favorite band, man! You never heard of Corroded Coffin?”

“Oh well,” Steve shrugs, “I mostly tune out when Mike is talking so…”

Robin snorts and is about to reply but Argyle raises his hand and they both look at him, flinching a little when they realize they had started talking among themselves again.

“Ok.” Argyle tells them clapping once, “Unfortunately for me, I love your energy my dudes, but I’m going to get serious for a second here: I need you two to be professional ok? We have a budget and a schedule and only three days to shoot and I can’t hire you and find out in the middle of the shoot that you are not okay with making out with someone-”

Robin visibly takes a step back and Steve snorts, “Yeah no, I’m not making out with my sister.”

Eddie, who was wondering what kind of relationship they had, does a little happy dance in his head at that.

“No, I meant one of the members of the band” Argyle answers amused.

Robin takes another step back and actually looks a little disgusted and Eddie tries not to find it offensive, “Me?” she asks unsure.

“No,” Frank answers and points at Steve, “Him.”

Surprisingly, they both relax at that, “Oh!” They exclaim in unison and it’s kind of creepy but again, in an endearing kind of way.

And then Steve looks at them one by one, he’s unmistakably and unashamedly checking them all out and Eddie swears his eyes linger on him the most before he smirks and says, “I’m okay with that”

Eddie immediately pushes the contract laying on the table toward Frank, who pushes it to Gareth, who pushes it to Jeff, who pushes it to Argyle and gives him a pen.

Argyle laughs loudly and shakes the sheet of paper, “Well shit, I guess you are hired.”

“We are?!”

He stands up and shakes their hands, hands them the contract and another paper, “This is the script, not that it has any dialogue but just in case you have any questions.” 

They push their heads together and read the script at the same time.

The story is about the band being on tour. Robin and Steve would play as their roadies and the video is supposed to show them in concert, traveling, working, and hanging out. The whole video hints that Eddie is sneaking out with one of them and it ends with the band plus Robin opening a curtain on the tour bus to find Eddie and Steve making out.

The song is called You Are Mine.

When they are done reading, Steve smiles and says “Cute”

And Robin asks, “So which one of you is Eddie?”

Eddie lifts his hand lazily and winks at them.

And Steve, still holding the script, lifts it enough to cover his face but Eddie can still see the tip of his ears as they turn bright red.

‘Oh, he’s gonna eat him alive.’

to be continued

part 1: is this

part 2: ♫ 

part 3: ♫

part 4: ♫

☕ cafecito?

[runninriot]

(Un)Used

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 2 prompts: backseat, bruise, soft and slow | rated: E | wc: 2.770 | tags: self-worth issues, eddie is a mess, steve takes care of him, blow job, hand job, anal sex, emotional hurt/comfort, implied strangers to lovers | also on ao3

Eddie's not used to this. Or only part of it.

Because the feeling is oddly familiar and yet, everything about it is different.

It's the harshness that resonates in his body like a well-known song; rough fingers digging deep into tender flesh, nails leaving crescent-shaped dents in burning skin. It's the pressure of a grip so tight it's sure to leave bruises, Eddie recognises like an old friend.

But there’s more. Things he doesn’t know how to name, how to take.

Eddie shivers in violent ecstasy, his movements out of control, nerve endings set ablaze with every touch and every whisper. Every last bit of sanity lost to a sensation that's so new, so wrong, so good, so contrary to everything his body has become accustomed to.

What he knows is the ache, the unnatural twist of his limbs when he's being held down in the backseat of someone's car, fucked mercilessly on the side of the road or at the far end of an empty parking lot in the dark of the night.

What he's used to, is offering his body to nameless faces and hands that take more than he should let them. More than he should be willing to give.

What Eddie thought is the way it always is - the same experience each time, the same self-hatred that holds his soul captive, the same nasty aftertaste of unkind words and bitter relief - suddenly seems to break and crumble under the lightness, the care, the dignity offered to him like a gift he doesn't deserve.

   "So beautiful," the voice above him whispers, sounds like it shares a secret with him about him. Like there’s something in him that’s worth flaunting, spread out on a bed covered in soft sheets, bathed in comforting light, put on display for his admirer to look at. For him to be seen.

It's scary.

And not for the first time tonight, Eddie tries to hide, to cover his eyes with his arm, to turn around and bury his face in the pillow below.

But Steve doesn't let him.

Steve, whose fingers are everywhere, tracing blemished skin that covers the body that houses a broken soul. Unearthing buried fears and insecurities, laying them all out on the surface, marking his findings with kisses like he’s putting his name on each one of them. Not to claim ownership but to make something new, take what’s damaged and give it new purpose, new life.

   “Can’t believe how lucky I am,” the voice whispers sweetly, tickles the sensitive skin on his neck.

   “Steve, please!”

It’s all Eddie can answer, all he can offer, all he can think. Just this one name on repeat, like a prayer, over and over, because there is nothing else left on his mind.

   “I know, baby, I know.”

Steve’s words are supposed to be soothing, the low vibration of his voice should be comforting but how is Eddie supposed to stay calm when Steve’s tongue is circling and licking his cock, teasing his slit, massaging his balls, leaving a trace of trickling spit on its way? Lips moving up and down and around, taking him in and out but never enough, never to finish what he started what feels like hours ago.

Eddie is on edge, has been since the moment Steve carried him here, laid him down on his bed, undressed him in slow motion, one piece at a time until he was left naked from his neck to his toes – no belt buckle left to press into bent thighs, no shirt crumpling up around his chest, just his pure, bare skin, pale and inked. Left with nothing to hide behind, to obscure the vision.

He’s never felt so vulnerable in his life, can’t remember anyone ever looking at him like Steve does. Intense and focused, like he’s trying to memorise every part of him. Smiling, like he enjoys the view, like he likes what he sees.

Steve’s mouth is back on his – when did he stop sucking his cock? Eddie can still feel him down there, the lingering touch of his lips but he can taste himself now on the other man’s tongue when it licks deep inside.

   “Can I fuck you, baby?” Steve asks when they part and Eddie blinks slowly at him.

Why is he asking? Wasn’t this the plan all along? Isn’t it common knowledge that Eddie is easy, always free to be used.

   “Please,” Eddie sighs, or maybe he moans, or maybe he doesn’t say anything at all because Steve is still looking at him with questioning eyes.

   “Fuck me, Steve,” he tries again, more demanding this time, needs to speed this up because-

Because the sooner Steve comes, the sooner Eddie can go home to lick his wounds, allow himself to fall to pieces, maybe cry in the shower, then smoke himself numb. And tomorrow, he can pick up the pieces of a heart torn to shreds.

It’s the same every time and yet, this time, it’s worse.

Because Steve isn’t nameless, Steve isn’t anyone, Steve isn’t anything like those other guys, the ones on the hunt for nothing but a hole to sink in.

Steve kisses him, touches him greedy but gentle – and that makes him so much more dangerous.

Eddie knows selfishness, knows how to make himself small, how to bend into the perfect shape to be used.

What he doesn’t know, is kindness and light-hearted giggles and praise.

This adoration in Steve’s eyes hurts because it creates an illusion of how things could be if someone would care. If someone would want Eddie for more than just a quick, hard fuck.

It’s an illusion he can’t allow himself to let take root in his mind, or worse, in his heart. Can’t allow it to shine light on the darkness inside, make warmth where he’s cold, make soft where he’s turned to stone.

Eddie isn’t destined to be loved. Never has been, never will be.

So with a bit of relief but also a lot of regret, Eddie feels like his breathing finally slows when Steve moves to kneel between his thighs, one hand still connected to his skin while he leans over to grab a condom and lube.

This is the part Eddie knows.

Without thinking, without asking Steve how he wants him, Eddie lifts himself up on trembling arms, moves to turn around. On his hands and knees Eddie finally recognises his own body and it feels like a spell had been lifted from his foggy mind.

With his head bowed down and his back arched, arms bent at the elbows and his legs spread wide, Eddie waits.

And waits.

And-

startles but somehow instantly relaxes when he feels Steve’s warm palms on his shoulders, gliding down his back in slow strokes, resting on his hips where he grips him tight.

Eddie doesn’t know what happens, suddenly finds himself flat on his back again, Steve looming over him, looking down with a mix of confusion and worry that makes Eddie squirm nervously.

   “Nu-uh, baby. Want you to be comfortable. I want to see you. Can’t kiss you when you’re hiding your pretty face.”

Steve words slice through him like a blade, make something hot run through his veins – pain and desire, a mix of vile things and sunshine – knocking all the air out of Eddie’s lungs with a moan so desperate, so needy.

   “Steve, oh God, please just-“

    Take me. Fuck me. Use me.

The words get stuck in his throat when he sucks in a shocked breath.

   “Fuck!” Eddie cries out, lost in the feeling of Steve’s lube slicked thumb rubbing over his rim in circles.

   “Relax, baby. Gonna take it easy, wanna make you feel so good.”

Before Eddie can protest, Steve’s mouth is back on his cock, lips closed around the head while he flicks his tongue around in the same, agonising motion that drove Eddie insane before.

It’s too much to take in, too many sensations at once, with Steve sinking deeper on Eddie’s hardness, inch per throbbing inch, while the tip of his thumb prods at his entrance, slow and soft and so very careful. The contrast of Steve’s greedy mouth swallowing him down and the gentleness of his finger pushing slowly inside, causes a short circuit in Eddie’s brain.

All he can do is whine and whimper, helplessly stammering useless pleas through parted lips. Steve’s name is the only thing keeping him tied to the here and now as Eddie slowly loses himself to the feeling, lets himself go, allows himself to be given wave after wave of coiling pleasure when Steve’s two fingers deep.

Suddenly, something rips through Eddie like his insides are made of exploding fireworks, when Steve hits that bundle of nerves no one had ever bothered to find before.

   “Steve, oh god, I-“

The warning dies on his tongue when he comes with a cry, filling Steve’s mouth with his release, coming hard and hot down his throat.

Steve swallows roughly, like he’s trying to keep it all in. It’s too much, Eddie can feel it, his lips slick with cum and saliva, dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin where he hovers above Eddie’s middle.

He doesn’t stop, though. Keeps going. Keeps thrusting his fingers while sucking on Eddie’s softening cock and Eddie wants to cry, needs him to stop, wants to beg him to keep going forever.

It’s a sensation unlike any he’s ever experienced before.

This, Eddie thinks, is what it must feel like to come from actual pleasure and not just from giving into his body’s natural impulse, what it feels like to drift, to fly, to be high on adrenaline and serotonin and whatever fucking hormones make him feel like he’s on top of the world.

Finally, Steve releases his spent cock, slick fingers slowing their movement before they pull out completely, leaving Eddie’s stretched hole empty and clenching around nothing.

And he wants to complain, wants to tell him to ‘come back, come here, need you inside, need you, please!’ but it’s hard to breathe, let alone think, so instead he whines and blindly searches for Steve’s hand to hold.

   “I got you, baby. I’m right here.”

Eddie feels like jelly, like molten wax in Steve’s hands when he grabs him by his legs and bends his knees and pulls him up and-

   “Tell me if it’s too much and I stop.”

-pushes the head of his cock into the waiting heat of Eddie’s body, slowly, so fucking slowly and careful.

For a moment, Eddie isn’t sure if it’s really happening or if it is maybe just wishful thinking. But as his mind slowly drifts back to earth and his surroundings come back into focus, as he begins to feel his own body again, he realises he isn’t just making this up.

He can feel the way his muscle stretches around Steve’s cock, pushing in and pulling back out, deeper inside with every forward movement of his hips.

It’s heavenly torture, the way Steve takes his time, lets Eddie adjust to the feeling, gives just a bit at a time. And it drives Eddie wild, makes him feral with want for ‘more, more, deeper, please!’

But Steve doesn’t waver, keeps up with the tormenting pace until finally, with one more thrust, he’s buried balls deep.

   “Fuck, baby! Ah, feels so good. So tight around me.”

If Eddie wasn’t busy moaning like a bitch in heat, he’d laugh at those words. Feels like crying at the notion of him being anything other than used-up and sloppy, a worn-out object, frayed at the edges, torn apart by too many before.

   “So tight, so perfect. And all just for me.”

He says it like he means it and something inside Eddie shifts. Warmth spreads from his chest in every other part of his body, through flesh and bone, settles in every cell, something that makes him feel new, different, other. He feels like drowning, like with every thrust, Steve pushes him deeper into a sea of light.

Submerged in sunshine, surrounded by white noise, Eddie lets himself fall.

He’s so lost, he doesn’t even notice the way his own cock is straining hard against his belly, leaking at the tip, making a mess where it throbs with every snap of Steve’s hips. The rhythm is soothing, harder now than it was before but steady, pushing deep, filling him with a pleasure that feels like something else, something holy, something he doesn’t know how he ever existed without.

Eddie floats, sinks, dies.

And comes back alive when his second orgasm hits even harder than the first, hits him the moment Steve cries out his name like he’s calling for God.

Out of breath and visibly exhausted, Steve can barely keep himself up on his trembling arms, but he still leans down to capture Eddie’s mouth in a feverish kiss.

   “So perfect,” Steve whispers again and this time, he agrees.

   “Thank you”, Eddie answers before he closes his eyes.

-----

Eddie doesn’t know how much time has passed. It felt like he only blinked, maybe rested his heavy lids for a minute or two. Or maybe five.

But when he opens his eyes again, he finds himself cleaned up and covered by a soft blanket, curled up next to Steve, head resting on the other man’s chest.

When he lifts his head to look up, Steve is already looking back at him, a beautiful smile on his lips.

   “There you are. How do you feel?”

The question should be easy enough to answer, but somehow Eddie struggles to find the right words.

Because how can he explain to a man he only met tonight, that he’s never felt better. That he can’t remember a single time his body hadn’t felt like he’d been run over by a bus after being fucked.

That no one ever managed or let alone tried to make Eddie come twice.

That here, in Steve’s arms, Eddie feels safe.

None of these answers seem right, feel too heavy, too loaded with memories. Years of putting up with undeserving strangers suddenly come crashing down on him and Eddie only realises he’s crying when Steve wipes at a tear with his thumb.

   “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I-“

Eddie shakes his head immediately, doesn’t want Steve to think even for one second that he’s done something wrong. If anything, Steve showed Eddie how much better his life could’ve been if he hadn’t resigned so early in life. If he hadn’t given himself up, treating his own body like trash – why would anyone treat him better than he treats himself?

Except, Steve did. Showed him what gentle touch feels like. What it’s like to be kissed while being taken apart. How wonderful it can be not to rush, to draw out every part of this wondrous game, how beautiful this act can be, how soft, how uplifting and rewarding.

   “Happy,” is all Eddie can say, breath hitching when he tries to swallow another sob trying to break free.

   “So those are happy tears?” Steve asks, and Eddie can hear the concern in his voice.

He nods, stops, shakes his head again, stops, huffs out a frustrated laugh.

   “I’m happy. You made me happy. But I’m sad because-“

Because what? Because he can’t have this forever? Can’t stay here to rest in Steve’s arms all night? Can’t come back for more?

   “You don’t have to tell me right now. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow? Only if you want.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his heart skips a beat.

   “T-tomorrow?” he repeats unbelieving.

   “Mhm,” Steve hums, while he pulls Eddie closer, “tomorrow. Because everything is better after a good night’s sleep, and a hot shower, and a proper breakfast.”

   “You- you want me to stay for breakfast?”

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes as if Eddie just said something stupid.

   “Right now, I just want to hold you, if that’s okay?”

And before Eddie can answer, Steve turns off the light and covers the room in comfortable darkness. He kisses the top of his head, sighing contently as he sinks deeper into the mattress, taking Eddie with him, holding him tight in his warm embrace.

   “Promise you’ll stay the night?”

Eddie smiles, bites down a laugh when his mind offers ‘I’ll stay forever, if you let me’.

   “Promise,” he says instead, closes his eyes and lets the rhythm of Steve’s heart slowly lull him to sleep.

He’s not used to this part, to being held like something worth keeping.

But he hopes, believes, that one day he will be.

[correctproseka]

Ensekai really really fumbled the bag in Mizuki's storyline by using they/them pronouns and i can prove it

Ok so, ill start this by saying this does NOT mean that Mizuki's gender can't be "nonbinary" or that they cant use they/them. In the end it'll just mean that most of the characters would not know that at this point in the story and all views on mizuki, trans girl or nonbinary are objectively correct so far.

That ensekai fumbles translations is something we all know, the event names for example, a huge one is going on as i write this. Why the fuck is it not pandemonium like everywhere else??

Other fumbles we can't really blame ensekai for, song translations, as weird as they can seem, are chosen by the voca-p themselves

(even if they make it sound way more aggressive)

But on the stories? I complain a lot, they make the characters not look as gay, sometimes change their personality slightly and.

Sometimes. It kind of nearly ruins the story, which is Mizuki's case.

So, WHY did ensekai do that, and why is it different on jp?

Well, for starters, japanese does not have pronouns in the same way english does, they DO need to use pronouns instead of . "Mizuki said mizuki wanted this" every single time, so no pronouns, for a rhythm game is out of the question.

And they thought that they/them was a second best choice.

In japanese games and anime, people tend to see a gender funky character and immediately go for they/them, for one. But also not really the only reason.

The reason might have been the two usages of pronouns in japanese.

Introduction and character reference.

So, to introduce themselves, Japan uses a few pronouns such as atashi, watashi, ore, boku... Boku is a masculine leaning pronoun, and the one Mizuki uses. Its not the most masculine (from the ones i said, that would be ore) and in cases can be considered gender neutral, and sometimes, rarely, girls use it. Mizuki is one of these girls.

Another one is Rui, who's the only one to know Mizuki from middle school, calls them "Mizuki-kun". -Kun is ALSO male aligned but can be used gender neutrally, but there's also a difference here. Rui calls EVERYONE -kun, Shizuku, Saki, Emu. You name it. He uses -kun for everyone. So thats not a valid reason.

Another question you can have is: did ensekai ever use a different pronoun for Mizuki?

And the answer, surprisingly, is yes. Before niigo knew mizuki irl there's two times they use she/her.

Which really sucks, because that would mean Mizuki uses she/her online, but ws soon as they meet her, its now a they/them? Without any conversation about it? And if we assume there WAS a conversation about it...

Then WHY THE HELL is Mizuki scared of telling their secret, when they have already done it in this scenario?

Thats not the case, niigo clearly thinks Mizuki is a girl- a cis one at that- currently.

In a way, the only people who would make sense knowing Mizuki's pronouns is the Kamiyama people (not Ena), they're the ones that know how Mizuki is at school, they're the ones that know her secret.

And yet, if Mizuki uses they/them, even the bullies respect it. And if she doesn't use they/them, then that means An and Rui of all people misgender them. Its a mess.

So not only does it breaks the immersion, it can also mean that either the bullies are not transphobic (really, if they didnt want to LOOK like they're transphobic is it that hard to avoid pronouns?? They're paid for that come on), or that the PLAYABLE CHARACTERS are.

Mizuki being so scared of saying her secret when everyone uses they/them for her is honestly. Fucking bad story telling. If they wanted to have made Mizuki's gender a secret there's a lot more ways they could've done instead of they/theying Mizuki in the story. Such as marking the gender as "unknown" or just. Leaving the story as is, people would be dumbasses and make them think mizuki is cis? So??? Let them be wrong when the time comes. This way it pretty much ruins her events.

And thats not saying Mizuki cant use they/them, but at thid point the characters would NOT know, the point that Mizuki tells the secret is the point they should know.

And.. in the end. That makes the fandom worse.

Jp does not have fights on which gender Mizuki is, they do not care. Its Mizuki and they like Mizuki for who [Mizuki] is as a person.

Meanwhile the en fandom gets called transphobic if the headcanon is a transgirl and also if the headcanon is a nonbinary transfem. It makes no sense and is only worth to make fights happen.

[nabwastaken]

so i convinced my brother to watch npmd

for context, he's the one who got me into starkid in the first place, but was never a big fan of it as a whole (we watched avpm a couple years back, and he watched twisted and tgwdlm himself)

so he's like. a casual fan. he's not in the hatchetfield hyperfixation hell i'm in, having only seen tgwdlm a few years back and not watching nmt or bf

suffice to say, he liked it!

highlights of the night include:

Him simping over Steph immediately as the show started

Me explaining different running gags that got brought up

Him commenting and cringing on the show's portrayal of teens which.. yeah

Him saying that Dirty Girl was more awkward then sexy (but being freaked out nonetheless)

Him calling out that Grace would be the murderer right away, but thankfully that thought went away as soon as Max died

At the part right before the Max death scene, he commented "oh this is so sweet" and then Max. You know.

During Go Go Nighthawks, I very loudly yelled out "FUCK CLIVESDALE". Later on when Grace tries to frame the Chemists my dear brother also said "Yeah, fuck clivesdale!" confirming he is one of us now

He knows about my obsession with Dan and Donna, and witnessed my very audible reaction when they showed up the first time to report on Max's disappearance

After the scene I say they showed up later on and during the interrogation scene in the principal's office he said "When will Dan and Donna show up again?"

Of course, they did show up again for Hatchet Town, leading to me having the same reaction AGAIN, which lead him to commenting "They're not canon, right?" Which. OW.

When Dan came on and said, "I am Dan Reynolds" I pointed at him and said "There he is! My guy! He is Dan Reynolds!" all while my brother just awkwardly nodded along

Me singing all the parts in Hatchet Town

Me explaining the cameos in Hatchet Town

After Hatchet Town I continued to freak out over Dan and Donna and continuingly reiterated the point that I ship them and I love them all while my brother was like "Yeah. Yep."

During the Barbecue Monologues, he says "Is this a reference to the Vagina Monologues?"

I commented on how a lot of people said that Just For Once gives them Falsettos vibes, and my brother LOVES Falsettos so he was immediately like "okay yeah yeah i get it go onto the song"

Him saying "Oh this is depressing" towards the end of Just For Once

Him freaking out when Paul and Emma arrived (they're the only characters he recognized)

Him also freaking out over If I Loved You, with him saying it was his favorite song in the show

In the scene in the forest where Max throws Miss Mulberry's decapitated "head" my brother said "That's Chappell Roan" and now I can't unsee it.

Him being terrified during The Summoning (later on he said "those weird god things scared me")

Him pointing at Blinky and saying "That's Chappell Roan"

The look of dread on his face when he realizes Steph would have to kill Pete

Me continuingly hammering in the point that "Steph and Pete will die" and then him being like "Why couldn't Grace give something up, huh??" and then me responding, pretending not to laugh, "What's she gonna give up? Her dad?" and then he responded "Yeah, her gay dad" (for context, earlier on during the chasity's scene i mentioned most people thinking Mark was gay)

Him just being absolutely depressed during CAITA reprise

AND THEN the look on his face when Max came in and caught the bullet with him continuingly asking and reiterating "So they're not gonna die?"

The shock and horror on his face when Grace and Max did it on the football field

Me telling him that Best of You was the ending number

AND THEN his jaw dropping when Grace pulled out the book and started singing dirty dudes must die. later on he said "it gagged him"

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious III (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

In an attempt to help you understand his recent behavior, Prince Aemond you his diary to read. What will you find within?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: non-graphic smut, perhaps Aegon's best commentary yet, more Aemond being an awkward idiot

Author's Note: The diary is being split into two part, which means this will turn into a six part series. Enjoy!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious III

Aemond’s diary was magnificently bound. The cover was made from supple, well-tanned black leather, which had likely cost a fortune by itself. The pages were so precisely cut that you had to run your finger across the edge several times for your nail to catch. And the paper itself was smooth and rich, far finer than any you had ever written on.

The benefits of being a Prince, you supposed.

You considered for quite some time whether to start reading Aemond’s diary – gods, he had given his diary, that gesture of trust would take more time to fully process – at the beginning or at the first ribbon. More than a dozen of them, each made of fine green velvet, were laid throughout the pages marking what he most wanted you to read.

Reasoning that the beginning was the most logical choice, you opened to the first page:

The 1st day in the first moon of the year.

It is after midnight that I am writing this, the very first moments of a new year. The Maesters believe it will be another year of summer, but time will tell.

The Small Council has begun making preparations for autumn, so the Crown will be ready the moment word arrives from the Citadel that winter is approaching. I have asked Grandsire to include me in these preparations so that I may learn how…

You looked away from the page, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

It wasn’t that it was boring, exactly. But it was pretty typical – nothing that revealed anything new about Aemond. Though you supposed the fact that he began a new diary on the first day of the year, rather than whenever you filled the journal you were using – as you did – said something about how regimented he was. Orderly.

Still, with each word, your gaze was drawn to the green ribbons. To the passages he most wanted you to read.

You suspected they were all passages relating to you.

So, with the promise that you would eventually return to find out what, exactly, he wanted to learn about the Crown’s preparations for winter, you grabbed the end of the first ribbon and let the pages fall…

The 16th day in the third moon of the year.

The betrothal has been settled. Finally.

I doubt I could have endured another miserable day of sitting in Grandsire’s study, listening to him read each of the letters sent by lords from throughout the realm, desperate to pawn their daughters off to a Prince of the Realm. Though I suppose I should be grateful he had already whittled the list down to only the two-score ladies he found the most politically advantageous.

Aegon told me that more than a hundred letters arrived. So, it could have been much worse.

Every letter was nearly the same, listing the family’s wealth and assets along with their daughters ‘accomplishments.’ In truth, calling them such seems far too generous. What does a scrap of embroidery or a reasonably well-played song truly accomplish, other than a few fleeting moments of mediocre beauty? It always fades.

Besides, every highborn lady is trained in the same skills, so they are hardly exceptional.

You frowned, looking up from the journal and at the dozens of examples of your own embroidery scattered throughout the room – including on the blanket you laid under. True, they were not always perfect, but you were proud of each and every one of them.

Then there was your little lyre, sitting by the sun. You hadn’t had the chance to play since coming to the capital, and you realised in that moment that you truly missed it. Once, it had been second nature to pick it up immediately upon waking and pluck nonsensically at the strings as your maids readied you for the day.

Those songs – if they could be called songs at all –were always your favourites. Wholly unique creations of your mind, never transposed, never to be played the same again. Briefly, you almost stood and retrieved the lyre, just to see what your hands would create in this moment.

But that would require setting down Aemond’s diary.

You looked back down at his words and frowned again. It took no small amount of time and effort to develop your skills. In fact, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished. No one was born knowing how to embroider or play music.

Neither was anyone born knowing how to wield a sword or ride a dragon.

Your frown faded at that thought, as you imagined how Aemond would look if you said that to him. The memory of him in the library when you snapped back at him, looking like a befuddled fish, returned to you. It was so enticing that you called for one of your maids to bring your diary, a pen, and ink.

Turning to the first blank page, you noted the date of Aemond’s offending entry and wrote out exactly how you would rebuff him if he had said such a thing to you.

Perhaps, when you were done reading, you would tell him.

The lady we chose – my betrothed now, I suppose – is the only one that could possibly be called ‘exceptional,’ even if only among her unimpressive peers.

I almost dismissed her, for the letter written by her father was almost entirely unremarkable.

She is accomplished, as all highborn ladies are. Her father wrote that she crafts beautiful embroidery, plays some instrument or another moderately well, and is an able conversationalist. I believe there was also something about flowers – she likes them, or grows them, or enjoys arranging them?

But none of this is truly remarkable. Indeed, as Grandsire read, I admit I was not giving him my full attention. Why would I? I had heard the same words at least a dozen times already.

And then – ‘much of her free time is spent in the library, and she can rarely be found without a book somewhere on her person, even if it is just a miniature concealed within her sleeve. She is quite brilliant, if it is not too presumptuous of me to say so.’

That I had not heard before.

You preened slightly as you read your father’s praise. While your mother admired your dedication to your studies, she also worried that your intellectual pursuits would frighten your suitors away. ‘No man wants a wife smarter than he is,’ she once said.

Your father, however, had encouraged it. Once, you went to his study to show him a new book you’d found, only to overhear his steward expressing his concerns about how much the new library acquisitions were too costly. Your father dismissed him and his ‘concerns.’

And it seemed the investment in your education paid off if it caught the attention of a Prince.

It piqued Grandsire’s interest as well. After he finished reading the letter of introduction, instead of moving on to the next girl, he turned to Mother and asked for her opinion – of both the lady and her family.

Mother did not have overwhelming praise, but neither did she have any complaints. They are not the most powerful ally, though they will strengthen our position adequately enough. The Lord and Lady are friendly, if a bit dull, so it would not be an annoyance if they were to visit King’s Landing after the wedding. And they are pious – her parents have made many journeys to Oldtown and the Starry Sept.

You picked up your pen to again write a rebuttal but stopped. It wasn’t a particularly kind assessment… but it wasn’t inaccurate. You loved your parents, but even you could admit they were ‘a bit dull.’

The miniature portrait that arrived along with the letter shows that her appearance is agreeable, is somewhat plain. Though I suspect that she will wish I could be called the same. Indeed, she will be lovely standing next to me. And Mother says she will look very fine in either green, black, or even red.

It is a good match – politically and strategically, of course.

And if she truly does enjoy reading so, if she is ‘brilliant’ as her father says…

Perhaps marriage will not be so bad.

I am under no illusions that this is, or ever will be, anything more than a political arrangement. An obligation on both our parts. I know that I am neither suited to nor deserving of love.

I have negotiated with Mother and Grandsire that her chambers will be far from mine. Within the Holdfast for her safety, but far enough away that she will not be forced to see me more than our duties require.

By both her father’s and my mother’s accounts, she is kind. I am not.

A political arrangement. That is all it will be – all it must be.

But I hope that in choosing her, I can find some companionship in the arrangement. At the very least, perhaps we can discuss our favourite books.

Any offence you took at being called ‘plain’ was overshadowed by the aching in your heart at seeing how little Aemond thought of himself.

Yes, he was scarred. But he was still achingly handsome.

As far as you knew, he had done nothing that would make him undeserving of love. Surely everyone was deserving of love. At least, that is what you were always taught by your Septa.

He had said some unkind things to you, but now… after reading his note, you knew they must not have been meant as such. He was trying to be kind. He just didn’t know quite how.

The urge to throw the diary aside and run to him immediately threatened to overwhelm you. But he asked that you read, so you could know and understand him. And you were not finished yet. So, after taking a moment to clear your head by writing out a list of your favourite books, you turned to the next marked page.

The 9th day in the fifth moon of the year.

The man who painted that portrait should be flogged. Publicly. Or hanged, perhaps. For he has done to my betrothed the gravest injustice.

She arrived today. And I have been forever changed.

There is no creature more beautiful in the world. Not even Sunfyre is as radiant as her. And that imbecile of an artist – if he can even be called such a thing – made her look plain.

I shall burn that portrait immediately, and locate a true artist. One who is capable of capturing her loveliness.

Though it may be that such a thing is impossible. For it is not just her appearance that is so enchanting, but indeed her every aspect.

Her voice is more beautiful than any other sound or music I have ever heard. And she speaks with such elegance and intelligence! The reports were true – she possesses a brilliant mind. There was so much I wanted to ask her, to discuss with her, but I found myself unable to say any of it.

The words were so clear in my mind, and yet my mouth would not move. I do not even know if I actually greeted her, or if I only thought to do so. I must have, or else Mother would have scolded me. I wonder what I said…

You laughed slightly. He had only said two things to you that first day. When you rose from your curtsy in the courtyard, the first time you had looked into his eye, all he had said was your name.

He had been entirely silent the rest of the day.

Then, as you exited the welcome feast later that night, he looked into your eyes again. Finally, after a moment of furious blinking, he had said your name again and then turned abruptly to leave.

The first of many times he had done so.

You had thought he simply hadn’t wanted to speak with you, but it seemed you were very, very wrong.

From that very first meeting… he liked you.

It was almost humorous how quickly he gave up on his declaration that your marriage would be nothing more than a ‘political arrangement.’

No, it was more than just humorous – it was hilarious. And more than a little flattering.

Stoic Prince Aemond, who since losing his eye had been as cold and unfeeling as stone, was practically smitten with you!

Suddenly, you realised that you were smiling so wide that your cheeks were beginning to burn, and in your delight, you had apparently kicked your legs about – your blanket now lay on the floor. But you didn’t care. You were blushing so much that you were perfectly warm, even in your flimsy nightgown.

And as you read further, your blushing did not stop.

The 10th day in the 5th month of the year

I spent nearly the entire day in her presence, and it has made me ever surer of my initial assessment – my feelings.

She is wonderful.

I was worried that, this morning, she would be different. That I would wake and find that my mind had played tricks on me yesterday, and she was not as beautiful, or sweet, or kind as I first thought. But, to my unending delight, she is all of it and more.

Mother and I met her and her own Lady Mother in the Royal Sept early this morning. When plans for the wedding were first being made, I did enquire about the ceremony being held not there, but in the Grand Sept. However, the request was firmly denied.

Grandsire gave me various explanations – that the expense was too great, that her family would be able to remain in King’s Landing for only a short time due to the coming winter, that the Grand Sept would be too busy preparing for the coming harvest celebration, and any number of other foolish things. I appreciate that he tried to shelter my pride, but it was unnecessary.

I know the real reason.

I am a Prince, but I am the third born. The second son. And my betrothed… she is the fifth born, if I remember correctly, although the eldest daughter.

I – we – are not worthy of the honour of being wed in the Grand Sept.

Perhaps if her family were more powerful, maybe one of the Great Houses…

Why do I even care? Being Wed in the Royal Sept is still an honour, and the gods will watch over us no matter where we say our vows. But still, I want it.

I want it for her.

I want to see her face alight as she enters the Sept and sees not only its magnificence but its each and every alcove filled with hundreds of people all there for her – for us.

We will both have to settle for the lesser beauty of the Royal Sept and a few dozen witnesses in place of the hundreds she deserves.

You would have loved to be wed in the Grand Sept – to have been given that great an honour.

But you had never considered it until reading Aemond’s words. And though you tried to make yourself share in his regret, you were unable to truly feel it. Nor could you feel any offence at his comments about your own importance and that of your house.

All you felt was a pang of sadness that Aemond considered himself so unworthy, as did his family, it seemed. After the sadness faded, there came a blossoming warmth in your chest, that he wanted it not for himself, but for you.

You picked up your pen to write something, but couldn’t think of what to say. That you wished he wasn’t a second son? That he was just as important as his elder brother, or his sister, the heir?

In the end, you simply wrote: ‘Thank you. Perhaps we can visit the Grand Sept soon. Together.’

At least there will be a suitably grand celebration after the ceremony.

Gods, am I actually looking forward to the feast? I hate feasts.

I hate the crowds, the overloud music that somehow does not drown out the din of the drunken guests gossiping like fools. I hate being forced to sit and watch while the people that claim to be noble and dignified gorge themselves like rats on obscenely rich food and repulsively strong wine. I hate all the cowering girls that approach me only because their fathers want to secure an advantageous marriage, who Mother always tries to make me dance with – oh, that’s it.

I will not have to listen to the music or the gossiping. I will not have to watch the crowd or dance with any girls who look at me as if I am some creature of the night.

It will just be me and her.

And the some three hundred guests mother has invited. But it will be bearable, so long as I can sit next to her, talk to her, dance with her.

Yet he never said a word to you at the feast, and danced with you but once.

‘I would have danced with you all night,’ you wrote. ‘If you’d only asked.’

Oh yes, I think I will like this feast very much.

She will as well, I am sure. With every detail Mother told her as we showed her the Great Hall for the first time, she looked so happy, so excited. She is not afraid of me – she is excited to marry me!

Though she did not speak to me beyond greeting me when I arrived… Perhaps it is a fault of mine, for I do not believe I spoke to her, either. I wanted to, but again, I could not find the words.

Of course, now that I am alone, I can think of a thousand things I want to say. A thousand things I want…

After dinner, I escorted her to her new chambers. We were chaperoned, of course, by our mothers. But even with their eyes upon us, when I brought her to that door… I wanted to follow her through it.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted… gods, I wanted all of it.

But it is not lust.

At least, not in its entirety. I would be a damnable liar if I did not say the very sight of her – of her sparkling eyes and the glimpse of her breasts the dress she wore today granted me – had me thinking sinful, unbecoming thoughts. I admit I am grateful my jacket disguised any evidence of where my mind was as I said goodnight.

I think I said goodnight – didn’t I?

You began to blush again, but it was of a different sort of bashfulness than before. For this wasn’t innocent compliments about your beauty or your wit. It was…

As much as Aemond tried to deny it, it was lust. He lusted for you.

It was a sin. You should have been disgusted. Offended.

Yet, you weren’t.

For you would also be a ‘damnable liar’ if you tried to say you hadn’t lusted for him either. Perhaps not before the wedding, but you had certainly desired him since.

But you certainly couldn’t write that down. So instead, you wrote that he had not said goodnight. He had looked like he might, but he only nodded slightly and left.

Is it truly a sin to list after the woman who is to be my wife? Or does it remain a sin until we are actually wed? I shall have to ask Eustace on the morrow.

Still, it is not only lust. For she is not only beautiful. She is kind, sweet, intelligent, and so, so good.

I fear I may love her.

Or, at the very least, it would be very easy to love her. And harder still to not.

I do not want to love her.

To love her would be to condemn myself to a life of perpetual misery, for I know she could never love me in return.

Nor would I want her to. No one should be forced to love someone like me – someone so broken and hateful.

Perhaps it would be kinder for both of us if I called off the betrothal. I am sure Grandsire could find a way to dissolve the arrangement without causing damage to her reputation. If my own must take the blame, I would gladly do it.

Something else was written at the end of that line, but it had been so thoroughly crossed out that you could not decipher it.

I cannot. I have known her little more than a day, but I know I must have her. Not just physically, but… I need her in my life.

She is the first light I have felt in many years, and perhaps it makes me the most selfish person alive, but I simply cannot go back into the dark.

So, the day after tomorrow, I will marry her.

Tonight, I will pray that tomorrow ends quickly. Perhaps I will attempt sleeping all the way through it, and hope I dream of her.

You felt a cracking in your chest. A hurt deeper than you had ever known. And it was not only for you, but for Aemond. For both of you.

‘I need her in my life.’ And yet almost as soon as you were wed, he left you.

In those first two weeks, you only ever saw Aemond in an official capacity. Was seeing you for only a few hours every day, wherein the both of you were almost entirely silent, really enough for him?

Of course, it wasn’t. He would not have come to your chamber again that night if it was. He would not have kissed you when you lay together or touched beyond what was required by duty. He would not have approached you again and again, even when he consistently angered you or made a fool of himself.

It took him longer than you wanted to that first time, and how he did so was almost always unexpected, but…

Aemond had made a habit of leaving you, but he always came back.

The weight of that realisation and the warmth and lightness it brought to your chest could not be lifted by even the largest of dragons. So, you did not ponder it any further, nor did you write anything down. There was, at once, too many things to say and yet not enough words to express them properly.

So instead, you turned the page so hard it nearly tore.

The 11th day in the 5th moon of the year.

Today did not pass quickly.

In fact, today may have actually lasted an entire year. Or at least it felt that way. I shall have to ask the Maesters to look into it.

Gods, if I make such a pathetic excuse for a joke in front of her, she will call off the wedding herself. Humour has never been my domain. But she does so like to laugh…

I will improve, as I hope my attempts to speak to her improve with time and practice. Or perhaps I can find a book on the theories and practices of comedy in the library. Unfortunately, I doubt such a book exists for talking to one’s wife.

With a small smile, you made another entry in your journal, noting each time he had made you laugh since the moment you met. True, he was not the funniest man you had ever met – not even close. But he had made you laugh more than a handful of times.

You thought he’d like to know it.

While I cannot say that today was the worst of my life – I do not imagine any day could be so terrible to usurp that title – I struggle to identify anything good I can report.

I did not sleep at all during the night. My mind was too occupied by thoughts of my betrothed. By the things I should have said to her these past two days and how she looks when she smiles. Gods, I do not think there is much in the world I want so much as to make her smile.

Did she think of me at the same time? Did thoughts of me keep her from sleep?

You had, in fact, had trouble sleeping. Though you could not say that it was because you were thinking of Aemond. Instead, it was mostly your worries that kept you awake, wondering whether the King and Queen liked you, if your dress would fit, and dreading the possibility of your misspeaking during the wedding ceremony.

Your thoughts of Aemond were few, and they, too, were mostly worries. But, then, he had said fewer words to you than you could count on your hands, so you were all but convinced he had not liked you. The fear that he would call off the wedding had loomed over your like a stormcloud.

And it was not an unfounded fear, apparently. Although his reasons for considering doing so were far different than you would have thought.

It was not only my mind that kept me awake but… other parts of me as well. When the hour grew very late, my thoughts drifted not to the wedding itself or the feast that will follow, but to the bedding.

Mother has insisted on a private bedding and no drunken escorts, after seeing how miserable Helaena’s ceremony made her. My poor sister didn’t emerge from her chamber for days afterwards, and Aegon was no help. He was drunk for an entire week after the wedding – or at least he was when he was at the Keep, which was rarely.

At least I have that. Finally, I will be alone with her.

I must stop considering it, or my body will again react to these sinful thoughts. For they are sinful – I asked Septon Eustace, and he confirmed that such thoughts remain sinful until we are wed. So, I will try and avoid them until that time.

There was a blotch of ink next to that last paragraph, which bled into the following pages through the small hole that had been pierced through the paper. As though…

The image of Aemond stabbing his pen into his journal in frustration came to you, making you smile. You picked up your own and wrote, ‘Some craftsman worked very hard to make you such a fine journal. It is quite rude of you to treat it with such brutality.’

I did not get to see her for more than a few moments today. She was late to dinner, as were both our mothers. They had been all but consumed by the preparations for tomorrow. They mentioned flowers and streamers, music and foods, and many comments about hair, jewels, and dresses that I simply did not understand.

And her damn father seemed more than happy to indulge them, asking so many questions about each detail that I was never once able to speak with her. Why he is so interested in ladies’ things, I do not know.

Everything else that happened today is hardly worth writing about. I rose early, trained until midday, briefly met with the tailor that made my wedding clothes and sat in on court.

Now, I take comfort that this damnable day is nearly ended, and I must wait only a few hours longer until we are wed. With luck, the sleep which eluded me last night will find me tonight, and I can pass the hours remaining in sweet dreams.

You remembered how you felt at dinner the day before – when Aemond was not there. The way you had felt his absence as though it were a missing limb. He had felt that way about you after less than two full days of knowing you.

If only you had as well. It would have saved much awkwardness and pain on both sides.

There was going back now. So, you read on.

The 12th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I am wed. We are wed. I am married – to her. To my wife.

She is my wife. She will be with me now, always. But… she is not here now.

Oh gods, why did I leave her room? I should have stayed there with her, or taken her back here. Fuck!

Several sharp, scrambling lines covered the rest of the page. Not even an attempt at language – just an expression of anger.

It was almost funny to think of. While you were lying in your bed with your skirt still hiked up around your waist, wondering if that would be the rest of your life, Aemond had been at his desk striking through the journal with his pen like it was a sword.

At least he knew he had been in the wrong?

I will start at the beginning, for I will go mad if I think too long about what I have just done – and what I should have done.

Today did not go exactly as I had planned.

Sleep again did not find me this past night. I simply laid abed, my mind racing and my cock hard. I just thought of her and longed for her and prayed that the sun would finally fucking rise.

Eventually, it did.

And not a moment later, servants came to dress me. I fear I may have been quite rude to them, but I was tired, and the wedding clothes felt much tighter than they did yesterday. I was left alone then to eat my fill before the official breakfast celebration, where I would be too busy receiving the guests to actually eat. But I could not– my stomach was roiling with nerves. I barely drank any of my tea, either.

I wondered what she was doing at that moment. If she was feeling what I was.

You had vomited from your nerves. Twice.

Your mother said it was only by some miracle that your dress was spared.

But there was no chance you would tell Aemond that.

I am almost grateful that Mother insisted on following the traditions of the Reach. For if I had to wait for the ceremony at midday with no distractions… I do know if I could have endured it.

Though, I do not know how I endured the breakfast either.

Every single person in the realm with even a drop of Hightower blood was there, all of them using the wedding as an excuse to curry favour with either the King, Mother, or Lord Hobert. The same as the other guests from the Reach and the few that came from the other kingdoms.

And then there was her family. Or at least the men of her family. Her father is one thing, but she has seven brothers! Seven! Though they were all perfectly polite, I am certain that they would be happy to kill me if I ever hurt her.

If I ever did – which I swear by all the gods I would never do – I would gladly let them. I’d even ask them to take their time and make it hurt.

There was also a great number of her cousins – who would also kill me if I hurt her. I lost count of how many there were, exactly, but it is enough to make a small army. Each of them brought gifts that were clearly meant for her, even though they were presented to me.

Aegon says I should simply be happy I received so many fine gifts – including two dozen swords and even more daggers – but I cannot stand being used like that.

At least my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife – only had to endure the company of the women in her family and not so many people who are practically strangers. I hope she liked her gifts and that she enjoyed her morning. The breakfasts are not a tradition where she is from. I do hope they did not displace any of her family traditions.

You did enjoy your breakfast ceremony. It was unusual at first, and you had to rely on the Queen and distant cousin who had married into the Reach to inform you precisely what you were meant to do.

And now, you were insatiably curious about the gifts from your brothers and cousins. Aemond had not told you about them…

‘Where have you hidden my presents, you rogue?’ you wrote in your journal.

Then, at last, the ceremony.

I remember very little of it, to be completely honest. But I shall never forget how she looked, or how the midday sun lit her in gold as she finally walked through the doors of the Royal Sept.

Writing this may damn me, but I do not care. She was is more beautiful than the Maiden.

Even when she is nervous, which she undoubtedly was. She never smiled entirely, but I could see one playing at her lovely lips.

Oh, and her voice when she swore her vows! I wish I possessed some kind of magic to capture that sound in a bottle, that I may listen to it whenever I wished.

Then I kissed her.

There was another blot of ink, as though he had hovered his pen over the page so long the ink dripped.

I do not possess the words to describe what I felt then.

Rumour has claimed that my heart shrivelled and died after that night on Driftmark. If that is true, then her kiss was a miracle from the gods, for it brought that dead thing back to life – back to such life that I felt I could do anything if she only wished me to.

Even as tears of something like joy began to fall from your eyes, you laughed, remembering what your eldest brother had said about that kiss, ‘It was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen –I had to watch all our brother’s bedding ceremonies.’

If I had my way, I would have done away with the rest of the ceremony and the feast then and there. I just wanted her, and I didn’t want to wait. But the moment I pulled away from her, Eustace started praying again, and I just had to stand there in front of dozens of people, looking at her and allow myself thoughts that, as of that moment, were no longer sinful.

Thankfully, my wedding clothes were not as tight as I thought. For if they had been, Aegon would have surely teased me for being so obviously eager for my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife.

I was so very eager – damn it all, I shouldn’t have done this either – that I only danced with her once at the feast. If I held her in my arms a moment longer, I would not have been able to resist kissing her again or dragging her away to my chambers long before it was proper.

You almost wished he had dragged you away. Although, considering how the bedding went, perhaps not.

So, I left her to the dancefloor and the many men – and Helaena – that also wanted a turn with her. I remained at the head table, not eating or talking to anyone. Not that there was anyone to talk to. Mother and Grandsire were making rounds, Aegon was chasing women, Helaena was dancing with my wife… the only one at the table with me was the King. I have nothing to say to him.

I do not know if I sat there for five minutes or five hours, but finally, Mother called for the bedding. I did not hesitate.

I actually meant to take her to my chambers, but we ended up in hers. I do not know why. Perhaps… I think I just wanted to see them. Two nights, I left her at that door, aching to go in with her.

Tonight, I did.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Something heavenly? But it was just a room, like any other. Though, I did spy two books on her table. One was a fine but worn copy of the Seven-Pointed Star. Perhaps I will commission a new one for her, bound in her favourite colour.

What is her favourite colour? She is my wife, but I do not know. I should know. I should ask.

But I don’t know if I can ever face her again.

I don’t know what I did wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. It – I’m getting ahead of myself.

When we entered her bedchamber, I froze. I was looking at her bed – where I would take her maidenhead. Where we would hopefully produce our heir. And I just froze. Froze and prayed.

I prayed for knowledge, for the Seven know I have no idea what to do with a woman. I can’t even talk to her. How am I supposed to –

A small spot of angry, squiggling lines.

When I was done praying, which I think took an embarrassingly long time, she was standing before me, her head bowed. She might have been praying, too.

I asked if she wanted my help to remove the various pins and pearls in her hair. Mother and Helaena have both complained that they become uncomfortable after a while. And I know that losing their maidenhead is already uncomfortable enough for women, so it seemed the right thing to do.

Besides, she has such pretty hair. I wanted to help her. To touch her and to run my hands through that hair.

But she said no. She did not want my help.

She was so nervous that I could see her trembling as she shook her head. I did not want to make any more so, so I did not insist further.

Nor did I want to move about her room without her express permission, for I know I would not wish a stranger to snoop around mine.

Can I be called a stranger if we are married?

I did feel the temptation to go to that table and look at the other book there. I suspect it is her diary, for there was no title on the spine, and I believe there was a thin strap holding it closed, as the pages have grown worn. It even looked as though other pages or notes had been tucked inside.

She keeps a diary, just as I do. Just as I am doing now.

Is she writing in hers as well? At the very moment?

If she is, I fear whatever she writes will not be very kind to me.

While she was removing her hairpins, she made a noise. She was trying to hide it, but it was so godsdamned quiet in that room that I could still hear her. It was soft, almost like a whimper.

That one little noise almost pushed me over the edge. Perhaps it wouldn’t have it if I hadn’t been hard for hours, but… I couldn’t wait any longer.

I had planned to remove her clothes myself. It was to be tender and romantic. But I heard that noise, and then she came back to stand beside me, and I saw her loose hair and the barest hint of her breasts, and all my plans vanished.

So, like an idiot, I told her to get on the bed. Fully clothed. And she obeyed! My sweet, innocent wife, who does not know any better, got on the bed with her fucking shoes still on!

I love her. I really do. So, so much.

That’s probably the most ridiculous thing to make me realise it, but that was it.

It wasn’t her fault anyway. I’m the one that told her to lie down. So if either of us is an idiot, it is me.

But I didn’t want her to think I was an idiot, so I didn’t undress either. Instead, I just unlaced my trousers enough to set my cock free. I stroked myself a few times to ensure I was ready – Orwyle said it would be easier if I was as hard as possible.

Then she lifted her skirts. She was undoubtedly a maiden, but her mother must have told her something, as I didn’t have to ask her to do everything. Though I did have to let her know that I needed her legs open – she had them shut tight.

When I got on the bed, I kissed her again. But it didn’t feel the same as it did in the Sept. Then, her lips were soft against mine. She pressed her lips back against mine, if only slightly.

This time, she was utterly still. Her lips were cold.

I don’t think – she didn’t want me to kiss her. Or she was afraid to, or…

Another drop of ink.

She was afraid of me.

I couldn’t look at her anymore. She isn’t supposed to fear me. She is my wife. I thought she wouldn’t look at me… like everyone else.

So I stopped trying to make it romantic. I just did my duty.

But the female anatomy is more complex than I had assumed. I looked at her – I do not know a polite word for it – and I admit I was unsure how to proceed. When I was with that wh other woman –

What fucking ‘other woman?’

You felt your face heating with rage as you read the beginning of that sentence over and over. The idea that Aemond – your husband – had been with another woman and was thinking about her after your wedding night was infuriating beyond belief.

Even after he insinuated you were unintelligent, or insulted your beloved robe, or walked away from you again and again, you had never been this angry.

You had more than half a mind to toss the godsdamned diary in the fire, storm into his rooms, yell at him a good deal, and demand answers from him directly. But when you stood and approached the hearth, you could not do it.

Aemond had trusted you with his diary, including this. He had marked this entry specifically as one he wanted you to read. Perhaps he simply hadn’t remembered what he wrote – no. He was too meticulous, this man who had started his diary precisely on the first day of the year.

He knew exactly what he wrote and wanted you to read it anyway.

So, after sitting back on the couch, you did.

When I was with that wh other woman, I did not look at her. Not there. I did not want to. But I regret that now.

I reached out to feel her, to try and find – I don’t know if it’s the whole thing, inside and out, that is the ‘cunt,’ or if it is just the hole – to try and find her entrance. That’s a better word.

She didn’t like it. She pulled away from me.

I thought it might be because my hands were cold, but I have never felt cold, so I warmed them before continuing. Which she did let me do! We actually apologised to each other at the same time. It was almost sweet. Or it would have been if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.

I tried to go slow when entering her. I really thought I had gone slow. It certainly felt slow.

When I was all the way inside her, it felt like – she felt like…

Several drops of ink.

Warm. She was warm, like sitting only a few feet away from a fire.

And soft, softer than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I don’t know how to describe how – her tightness. Not so much that it was difficult to enter her. I didn’t have to force my way in. I never would. Yes, there was some resistance at first, but after a moment, it was just right. Perfect, even.

How could she be so different from the whore? When Aegon brought me the Street of Silk and presented me with a line of women he had selected himself, he said it didn’t matter which one I picked. ‘A cunt is a cunt,’ he said. ‘You must simply choose which drapes you prefer.’

They are not the same.

Is it just because I love her? Because I actually wanted her, as I didn’t want the whore?

You didn’t think any sentence containing the word ‘whore’ could you make you smile. This one did. According to Aemond, you were better than a whore – you were perfect.

And he loved you.

He hadn’t been cold and distant that night because he didn’t want to lie with you, but because he wanted to so badly that he forgot his senses.

As your smile grew, you buried your face in the diary, grounding yourself in the smell of parchment and dried ink.

A few moments ago, you were ready to storm into Aemond’s chamber and unleash your anger upon him. Now, he once again had you giggling like a silly little girl. What power did he hold over you that allowed merely his words to have such an effect on you?

One word floated through your mind like a leaf on a breeze. A dangerous word, one which frightened you far too much to give voice to. Even if only in your mind.

Instead, you swallowed it and laid the diary back on your lap.

I thought that feeling… that she might feel it too. The euphoria that came with release meant that – that it meant something. That maybe I was mistaken when I thought she was afraid of me.

But when I went to kiss her again, she did not look as happy as I felt. She still looked afraid. Afraid and confused, like she was expecting more. Like I was not enough.

I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t face that look and what it meant. I can’t live in a world where she fears me. Where she does not want me as I want her.

I said that this marriage would only be a political arrangement, but I don’t want that anymore. I want more. I need more.

So, I left. I just… left.

If I were a man, I would go back there now. I would apologise and tell her that I loved her. That she is the most beautiful creature in the world and that I will do anything to make her happy.

But I am here, writing in this stupid fucking diary because I am too much a coward to face her.

I can’t just avoid her forever. She is my wife. I must see her again.

Thank the gods that we are not being sent on a royal progress. Not until we know for sure that the summer will last the year. But I will still see her. Tomorrow. She will be at court, at my side as my wife. And at dinner with the rest of the family.

Gods, what am I going to do?

Another stab in the page, this one not as fierce as the last.

I need help.

I’m sure Aegon is still at the feast if he hasn’t…

Not tonight. I am two days without rest, and I do not think I can restrain myself if Aegon makes untoward comments about her.

Tomorrow, I will ask for help. I have no other option.

I must see her smile again.

You ran your hand over the page, over the words that broke your heart again and again. As if in response, the pain in your stomach started once more. You reached for your teacup, only to find it empty.

Aemond’s diary fell from your lap as you sat up and leaned across the table to reach the teapot. It, too, was empty. “Damn,” you whispered.

Another pain came, accompanied by a sharp pang of hunger. Looking over to the window, you found the sun more than halfway across the sky. Had you really been reading for so long?

You wanted nothing more than to keep reading, but you knew hunger would only worsen the pain of your moon’s blood and possibly make you more likely to do something foolish, like go to Aemond before you had finished the diary.

So, you picked the journal up from the floor, marking your place with one of the green ribbons you had set aside, and stood.

Aemond’s words – his truths – would still be there after you ate and drank and perhaps called the Maester for something to ease your pain. For now, you would take some much-needed time to think through all you had read. All you had learned.

And you would write. While reading, you too often became caught in his words and neglected your own.

Aemond gave you his truth, so you would give him yours.

But after more raspberry tea. And a meat pie. And some tea cakes.

After all, he made you wait. Now it was his turn.

[amongemeraldclouds]

so high school

you know how to ball, I know Aristotle

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader (Modern AU)

Warning: fluff, no use of y/n

Author's note: I can't think of a good summary for this, but it's all about going on a motorcycle ride with Mattheo because he aced the test you tutored him for.

✿ Masterlist | TTPD Masterlist | 643 words

“Come on, pretty girl,” Mattheo said, handing you his spare helmet. You eyed it suspiciously, but held your hand out anyway, accepting it.

Your plan worked a little too well. Tutoring Mattheo was anything but easy, so to motivate him, you agreed he could get a reward each time he scored well on a test.

He said he would show you how to have fun. You smacked his arm and he promised he would be an honorable gentleman and keep things wholesome, unless you wanted more. To which you insisted, you did not.

Never mind the way your stomach fluttered when you were near him, or how your thoughts would get derailed when his arm brushed accidentally against yours. You knew better than to get involved with the resident troublemaker at your school.

You countered instead that fun looked like different things to different people. So if he showed you something he found fun, you’d also get to show him something you enjoyed. He shrugged his shoulders and agreed. Besides, if he got top marks in class, you’d receive a hefty bonus, which was more than enough of your savings goal for university.

That was how you found yourself rock climbing, racing cars, and now, your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, hair flying in the wind, as he whisked you both away in his motorcycle.

After a while, you found yourself relaxing as you got used to the speed and found you enjoyed the rush as you cut through the air, cars and buildings blurring past you. There was something freeing about it and it certainly did not hurt to feel his toned body snug against yours.

You almost complained when he slowed down as you approached the beach. “So?” He asked, grinning as he took off his helmet. You were tempted to fix his helmet hair and run your fingers through his luscious locks, but held yourself back.

You couldn’t, however, stop yourself from mirroring his grin, adrenaline pumping through your veins. “Not bad, Riddle.”

He laid out a blanket he packed and you both settled in, listening to the waves, as the sun painted the sky a blend of red, orange, and yellow. You took a moment to breathe it all in, the salt air and the warmth of Mattheo beside you.

It was your turn to tell him all about the book you were reading about. You showed him how fun could also exist in far away realms with magic and dragons. How books were portals to these worlds where mysteries get solved and people find happy endings. Despite his initial eye roll weeks earlier, you found he was a great listener who seemed genuinely enthralled by your stories.

Little did you know it was because of you. Mattheo loved watching you come to life, the spark twinkling in your eye when you showed him something you thought was fun. You were a captivating storyteller. He could listen to you for hours and it would only feel like minutes. You always left him wanting more.

Your eyes could rival the sun and he wanted to kiss you then and there, but stopped himself. He watched your feelings bloom slowly with the way you had to pause when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushed yours. How you always seemed to have his favorite pack of candy around and you always leaned into him when you laughed.

He loved your laugh, and everything else about you. He was going to wait until your feelings grew to the point where you could no longer deny them. Then he would be honest. It had been a few weeks since he fell for you with the exact same approach he took with everything else in his life - fully and unapologetically.

When it was your turn to fall, he was ready to be a safe place to land.

✿ Masterlist | TTPD Masterlist

A/N: This is one of the least literal interpretation out of all my TTPD fics so far, but the song ‘So High School’ is just PERFECT for this vibe.

[reikaryu]

20:41 ♡ mingyu

fluff, idol!au, established relationship

I absolutely LOVE mingyu’s fangs. they’re so perfect oh my gosh.

it’s been a week since you saw your boyfriend face to face. he’s been practising diligently with his group mates for the upcoming comeback, while you were stuck in your studio producing songs for a number of artists.

considering the amount of songs you had to create a baseline for, you haven’t had the time to even think about what mingyu was up to. much less miss his comforting presence and clinginess. but it was not the same for him.

mingyu, despite being entirely focused on improving his dance moves, managed to slip you into the depths of his mind every once in a while. no one has yet to call him out for constantly checking his phone in case you ever texted or called him.

he contemplated surprising you at your apartment but decided against it, since he wasn’t too sure that you were home.

he was fortunate that he didn’t, because you haven’t left your studio since you entered it a week ago. you took two-hour long naps whenever you couldn’t think up anything for the songs and ordered take-out every time you were hungry. basically, no one except for the delivery men have seen you in this past week.

alas completing half of the work you were given, you decided to take a little break and play around with your instruments. but bumzu had noticed that the door to your studio had been closed a little too long and knocked on it before entering. the two of you got into a little argument about your work and personal life and you ended up going home because he threatened to confiscate the keys to your studio for an entire month.

you’re home now. you have just kicked off your shoes and placed them neatly into the cabinet near the entrance. you don’t fail to notice the extra pair that you certainly don’t own. smiling to yourself, you throw your bag on the couch and head into the kitchen.

unsurprisingly, you find mingyu near the stove, undoubtedly cooking up some pasta for the two of you to share.

“gyu,” you exclaim in a soft whisper, happy to see him. “how did you know I was coming home?”

he turns the fire off and pivots on his foot to be met with your body crashing against his. he lets out a laugh, stroking your hair gently.

“I figured you hadn’t left your studio in some time,” he uses a stern tone towards the last few words. you bite back a grin. “I called bumzu hyung to get you out of that suffocating place no matter what.”

“mmh,” you hum, cheek pressed against his chest. “he threatened to confiscate my studio keys. it’s not like he doesn’t lock himself in his own studio sometimes.”

mingyu pushes you away to break the hug as he says, “that’s true.” then, he leads you to the table and sits you down. “I’ll get the food ready. just wait.”

after dinner, you wash up and crash into bed with him. while he snuggles into your side, missing your scent and comforting touch, you continue a book from where you left off a week ago. it really seems like only a day has passed.

it may have been hours or minutes that passed, you don’t know. what you do know, however, is that mingyu is trying his very best not to fall asleep right now. you know what he’s up to and can’t help but feel guilty.

“you can go to sleep, gyu,” you whisper in a sweet tone, marking your book and putting it aside. he hums, but his droopy eyes are still trying to stay open. you chuckle, stroking his hair.

mingyu whines, “I haven’t seen you at all in a week!” he smushes his face into your abdomen as you ruffle his hair as a form of affection. “I miss you.” and he ends with a pout that looks like :c

you want to kiss him right now. smother him in pecks and smooches, but you like this position. it’s comfortable. so you settle with stroking his slightly long hair. “I won’t be going to work tomorrow; bumzu might just lock me out of my studio. I never should have joined universe factory.”

he knows you’re up to something — knows what that something is — and waits in anticipation for you to continue your words. and you know he knows. you try your hardest to hold back a smug grin.

“so that means you’ll get me for a whole day. twenty-four hours seems like a lot, doesn’t it?” you ask mingyu, looking down at him adoringly.

he flashes his famous smile, his fangs (the ones you absolutely fawn over) showing themselves proudly. “I’m gonna sleep now, since I have a whole day to you tomorrow,” he announces cheerfully, hugging you tightly and closing his eyes.

you go back to work the day after tomorrow with mingyu clinging to your side. when bumzu sees you, he smiles and chuckles knowingly.

taglist : @i520sn @piakae @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @f3v3rs @wonwoospartyhat @lesdevoeux @wonuulvr @svtcaratlove @amazingly-amazing-loser @ckline35 @enhacolor @woozarts @famouspoetrydinosaur @kokoiinuts @ahnneyong @kawennote09 @jcngh0-hq @marrgohh @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @reverbtunes @starnight-charmer @bimbo4jotaro @zonked_times @bangbangtandotcom

mingyu will kiss you if you reblog (.◜◡◝)

[euphorianyx]

Bet Beat Keep [Ep 1]

Pairing : Jungkook & Reader (mc) Genre : Smut / Romance / Thrilling / Dark Summary : Jeon Jungkook is a legendary boxer, currently the best around the city. Even the illegal cage fights he takes place become famous… And your rich boyfriend decides to bet on his next game. JungKook must win no matter what because you are on the line. Will Jungkook win for himself, or will another game begin? ⟪A/N: Do not copy or publish my work on other platforms without my permission. All Rights Reserved. Every and each like & reblog are highly appreciated.⟫

The vale in simple yet clean suit opened my door. I stepped out and glanced around. A slum with faded colors of old buildings. We were so out of place with our fancy clothes. I thought so until walking into the building. People like us were following a hallway. A buff guy checked Jae Hwan's invisible mark with a purple light and opened the door. A small laundromat was behind it. Wondering where this will lead I followed quietly. I reached another small door. Peeking inside I could see the cage with locks in the middle. Blood running cold, I stopped on my track. However before I could form any word, another man cut in. His suit and fedora carried no sign of reliance. "I thought big bets like these were not your thing Song. What happened?" His husky voice filled the thin hallway. Jae Hwan chuckled. I did not like it, because I knew it was not a good sign. "Well you got what you expected now. Stop using your words, use your zeros." The man returned the same sort of chuckle, sinisterly. "Still thinking small Song? How about the beauty you brought?" Jae Hwan arched his eyebrows arrogantly. "You are not laying a finger on her." I felt sick to my stomach. They were talking about me as if I was one of their belongings… As if I was an object. Not being able to stand their immature testosterone war, I walked in. Before I took my seat, I looked for the ladies room, hoping there has to be one. Somehow on my way back, I heard the familiar voice of a male. It was the same man who talked to Jae Hwan. His hands were on each side of the young guy before him. "Listen…. You either win this or I will shove this down your throat… Understand?"

I had no idea about cage fights, but one did not need to be a genius to see the problem. He was going to wear a knuckleduster to destroy his opponent. In this case, it was Jae Hwan's bet. I had to do something if I did not want to end up in the hands of another freak.

Jungkook sat by the bench, listening to the deafening cheers of the crowd. Elites were present, so he had to give them what they wanted. They were thirsty for blood… Torture… Violence… Lives of miserable poor like him were meant for the entertainment. He took a deep breath, starting with his mantra. "Right, Left, Right, Left… Focus" Those whispers faded away when a woman suddenly pulled him back to the small room. The door was closed and Jungkook was stuck between the unfamiliar delicate body and the door frame. Eyes wide, he looked down to the unexpected guest.

I took a step back to create some space between me and the tall man. I finally looked up slowly and instantly regretted my decision. The only thing he had on was a cape along with shorts hanging on his hips. He had long and shaped legs and a muscular body. His chiseled chest and abs along with wide shoulders were literally perfect.

He had the face of an angel with captivating big eyes. Jungkook was also caught off guard. The first thing he noticed was the intoxicating perfume. The classy dress wrapped the beautiful woman’s curves and flowed perfectly. When your eyes met the only thing Jung Kook could think was that you were beautiful… From head to toe.

After a long minute of silence, the confusion kicked in. Closing my eyes I tried to put my thoughts together to explain. "Your… uhm… Your opponent is wearing a knuckleduster to the fight." After hearing those words, Jungkook even had more questions than before. He took a step to the delicate figure before him.

“And how do you know that?”

Since I did not have much time, I rushed the words. "It does not matter. I saw it. Its because of the bet." Jungkook raised one eyebrow questioningly. "How much is it?" I shook my head. "Money? I do not know. The real bet.." I stopped in the mid-sentence when my brain caught up with my mouth. However, Jung Kook's expectant gaze urged me to go on. "...is me." After I explained, I heard the footsteps outside the door. Jae Hwan's voice followed. "Find her!"

>>>

[strniohoeee]

because matt is so tough lately can you write something about reader trying to show him her love with cutesy thing but hes just tough and even snaps at her for lil things and one time reader starts crying and tell him how she feels and matt feels bad and apologize and then some fluff

Can’t You See?

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N can’t understand why Matt is being such an ass to her. She’s going through her own stuff, and tries her best to be the best for Matt, but it just not good enough🩶 I also combined it with this request reader starts getting depressed but matt is an idiot and doesn’t notice and even makes it worse by being angry always than nick and chris talk to him and then he makes it up with fluffy ending

Warnings⚠️: Matt is an asshole in this which is not at all how Id think he’d actually be, but I had to do it🤭 Hope yall enjoy🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: Mark My Words- Justin Bieber

So you heard it all before

Falling in and out of trust

Trying to rekindle us

Only to lose yourself

But I won’t let me lose you

And I won’t let us just fade away

These past few weeks I have been at an all time low mentally. It’s been getting harder and harder to pull myself out of bed and get stuff done. I hated this feeling because it destroyed my life outside of my head.

At first Matt was understanding and even tried to help me, but this wasn’t something he could help me with. This was my own battle. I had to try and fix myself. I hated to put this on him and his brothers because I didn’t want them to stop what they were doing for me.

I often removed myself from them, focusing on myself when I got like this. They always checked up on me, but I made it clear I was okay on my own.

Most days I would wake up and shower and just sit in bed for hours staring at a wall or scrolling on my phone. Often forgetting to eat or drink water. At first they tried to help me, but then they went on with their lives doing what they needed to do, and I didn’t mind. That was until Matt started getting upset

I was once again sitting in Matt’s bed today in complete darkness curled up in a ball looking at the wall just thinking. It’s crazy how fast time goes when you’re not paying attention. Suddenly the door opened the lights flickered on causing me to squint

“Have you gotten up at all today?” Matt asked bluntly

“I have” I said in a whisper

“Are you just going to sit in bed everyday and mope around?” He asked opening his closet to change his outfit

“I’m not moping matt” I said not even looking over at him

“Yes you are, I’m trying to get you to get up and go out, see some light, and all you can do is lay around and stare at the wall” he said scoffing at me

“You’re being a dick” I said to him

“I’m not I’m being honest, and you clearly don’t like honesty” he said looking through his closet

“I’m going through something right now, and I’m really struggling to feel better, so you coming in here and barking at me isn’t helping” I said to him

“So get up, like force yourself up and let’s go do something. We can go for a ride or to the boardwalk or even to eat….just something” he said

“I don’t want to get up okay, you don’t get it” I said back

“I do get it. Do you know how many days I wake up and I want to roll over and stay in my room, but I can’t because I actually have a job to do and content to create” he replied back

I turned over completely appalled at his words

“Actually have a job? We both have the same fucking job you fucking asshole” I said looking at him

“Well look who’s putting in the work and who isn’t” he said looking over at me

“You’re such a fucking piece of shit when you want to be” I said rolling my eyes

“I tried to be there for you, but this has been going on for so long, and it’s exhausting trying to help you” he replied slipping his shirt on

“No one fucking asked you to help me I said I got it on my own. I’m so fucking sorry my depression is taking such a toll on you” I said getting up from the bed

“It’s upsetting to just see you lay here and waste your days away” he said looking over at me

“Can’t you see?…..YOU JUST DONT GET IT” I yelled the last part at him

Opening his door and walking out slamming the door behind me. I was fuming and I needed to get out of the house immediately.

I grabbed my purse and my car keys from the table

“Hey you okay?” Nick asked me as I walked into the living room

“Yeah I’m fine your brothers being a dick” I said

“Classic Matt” Chris responded

“Where are you going?” Matt suddenly asked from the kitchen

“I’m leaving” I said with my back to him

“This is what it took for you to get up? Was an argument? It’s shocking how upset you get over small things” he responded

“Matt shut the fuck up” Chris said to him

“I’m not mad I’m disappointed that you of all people are acting this way towards me” I said finally looking over at him

“I was just trying to help you” he said

“Whatever I’m going” I said turning to walk down the stairs

“Where?” Matt asked

“Away from you. I need space from you” I said

With that I walked down the stairs and hopped into my car deciding to drive back to my apartment. Once I got home I decided to shower and listen to music while I cooked something for myself

I loved Matt but his communication skills were horrible. It��s crazy that this small argument put some drive into me to start doing stuff. I was filled with so much anger and hurt from Matt. This was not who he was, and I wasn’t sure if he was going through something himself, or if I was genuinely making him upset.

I allowed myself to hurt and cry in the comfort of my own home. Scared that this would cause our relationship to end, but also scared that it could be something I wanted too.

I slept it off that day, and hadn’t spoken to Matt in three days. I would text Nick and Chris letting them know I was okay, and that I wasn’t too sure what I wanted to do as far as our relationship.

Another three days went by, and it was a good week now since I last saw Matt. Around the fifth day he started to call me, but I ignored his calls, truly needing this time to think.

On the eighth day I felt better, and I really missed Matt. I wanted to make things up to him and make things right. I decided to go on a small shopping spree for him and write him a cute letter attached to a new stuffed animal I got him.

After shopping I decided to head over to the triplets house letting Nick know I’d be over shortly. He left the door unlocked for me. I made my way to their front door letting myself in.

“Hi guys” I said walking up the stairs

“Heyyy you’re back” Chris said

“I am” I said giggling

“Are you feeling any better?” Nick asked me

“I feel much better. I think I just really needed those last days to think about everything and figure out what I wanted to do” I responded

“Are you breaking up with his bitch ass?” Chris asked laughing

“No I came to apologize to him” I said

“Apologize to him? You didn’t do anything wrong” Nick said

“I feel like I shut him out and I lacked communication with him, and that’s why I want to say sorry” I told him

“Aww okay” Nick said

“He’s in his room” Chris said

I nodded and walked over to Matt’s room, opening the door to see him lying on his bed scrolling through his phone.

“Matt” I said shutting the door behind me

“Baby” he said getting off the bed and coming over to kiss and hug me

“I missed you” I said kissing him again

“I missed you too” he said looking down at me

“I brought you gifts to say I’m sorry” I said smiling at him

“Oh yeah?” He said nodding at me

I gave him the stuffed animal and the bags of stuff. He walked over to his bed placing the stuffed animal on his bed and sitting down to look in the bags

He pulled out shirts and beanies and a new necklace

“Why’d you get me this?” He said his mood suddenly changing

“Well to say I’m sorry for not talking to you” I said

“You sit around moping and then suddenly you feel better to go shopping? This is all so expensive, why'd you waste your money?” He said looking at me

“What? I’m confused right now” I said shaking my head

“You don’t talk to me, but you think buying me expensive stuff is going to fix us?” He said

“Matt, are you joking? I came here to apologize to you for not opening up to you and taking your advice. I wanted to spoil you with my hard earned money, and this is how you treat me?” I said scoffing

“I just wanted you to talk to me not do this shit” he said putting the stuff back in his bag

“I don’t know what happened to you Matt, and I’m sorry if you’re going through your own issues right now, but this is not you” I said shaking my head

“I’m fine” he said sternly

“You’re clearly not you’re snapping at me for no reason” I said

“I’m not snapping” he said

“You know what Matt. If you don’t want to be with me just say that, okay? I’m over this! I’m leaving” I said walking out of his room

I walked to the living room and Nick stopped me

“What’s going on?” He said reading my demeanor

“I don’t know what’s going on with your brother but that’s not the guy I fell in love with” I said clenching my jaw

“What’s wrong with this kid?” Chris suddenly said

“I don’t know, but I’m over it. I’m leaving” I said huffing out a breath

I left their house and headed back to my place. Even more angry than our first initial fight. Why was he being such a fucking dick?

Nicks POV

“Matt what the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked him

“Nothings wrong” Matt said scoffing

“You’re being a complete fucking dick to Y/N, and she didn’t do anything to you” I responded back

“She just makes me upset sometimes with how she does thing” he said back

“So then like an adult you use your words. You don’t just lash out like a child” I told him

“I didn’t lash out like a child” he said getting upset

“Yes you did, and you get upset easily. You need to figure your shit out, or she’s going to leave you, and I wouldn’t be shocked if she did” I told him

“You know what fuck you” he said and stomped to his room

Matt had sat on his bed running his hands through his hair looking down at the bags of clothes Y/N had got him. He let out a sigh and leaned back, suddenly landing on a stuffed animal and hearing a crunch of paper

He furrowed his brows and reached behind him, he pulled the stuffed animal out, and saw a note attached to the front. It read Matt with a heart next to his name.

Matt opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. He began to read and his facial features softened

To my beautiful boy,

I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to upset you, that's not what I intended. I’ve been struggling with my own depression, and it’s not something I want to put on you or your brothers because I know you go through so much daily. I appreciate you being there for me, and being my shoulder to cry on. I love you. I’m sorry if you’re going through anything yourself, and I haven’t given you the comfortability or time to express yourself. You haven’t been the same these past few weeks, and I hope it’s not something I’ve done. I care for you and I worry for you, and even though your words hurt me the other day I can not hold it against you. Deep down I know you’re fighting your own demons, but I just want you to talk to me. Our communication has been awful lately, and I’m not sure why. Please know that I’m always here for you no matter what. Rain or shine I’ll be there for you my love. I just want us to be how we used to be happy and in love. I love you with my whole heart Matthew!

Sincerely,

Your biggest fan

Matt immediately shot up, his heart falling to his stomach. Immediately he felt the guilt and disgust wash over him. How could he be so mean and awful to you? You have been there for him through thick and thin. You were his rock and he was treating you horribly

Matt jumped up immediately grabbing his keys, and running out to head over to you. In a hurry he walked down the stairs shouting to his brothers he’d be back home soon.

He got in the car and immediately started his way over to you. How could he hurt his baby? His number one in life. He was so hurt he couldn’t even focus on anything else. About 20 minutes later he arrived to your apartment complex, walking up to your floor and knocking on your door

You opened the door with saddened eyes, and a confused look on your face.

“You’re my everything. I have never wanted anything more in life than you. I have been the worst boyfriend to you during a time where you needed my support the most. You didn’t deserve to be spoken to the way you were. And for that I can not forgive myself for. I was a piece of shit and you tried to be understanding. If you no longer see a future with me because of how I acted I completely understand that” Matt said looking me in the eyes

“Matt? I….” I couldn’t even form a sentence I was shocked

“I love you, and if you don’t want to see me right now I get that. I will give you space and I will leave” he said turning on his heels to walk away

“Matt wait” I called out to him which caused him to turn back around

“You were a piece of shit and the things you said were awful, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. I know deep down you're struggling with your own issues, and if you don’t want to talk about them that’s fine, but just know communication is key, and it goes both ways” I said looking at him

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry” he said letting his head hang

“It’s okay Matt, come in” I said pulling him in to my apartment

“It’s not okay. I was horrible to you and I don’t deserve you” he said sitting down

“Don’t speak like that. We deserve each other, you just have a hard time communicating, and I understand that” I said walking over to him

“It’s just seeing you so hurt and depressed made me so angry because I couldnt bare to see my baby struggling and not feeling like you were able to come and talk to me. It hurt me, and instead of talking to you about it I let that hurt turn into anger” he said

“I’m sorry for completely shutting you out of my life for those past few weeks. It wasn’t right, and that was a time I needed you the most and I just pushed you so far away” I told him

“I promise to communicate with you about how I feel so we can work everything out, I don’t want to fight with you” he said pulling me into him

“And I don’t want to fight with you either Matthew. I love you” I said smiling at him

“I love you too” he said letting a tear fall from his eye

“Don’t cry my love it’s okay” I said pulling him into me

Matt completely broke down in my arms

“It’s not okay I hurt you and I can’t live with the fact that I said such awful things to you” he said in sobs

“This will make us stronger as a couple okay, we now know how to go about our issues without it boiling over” I said petting the back of his head

“I’m sorry….im so fucking sorry” he said pulling away and looking at me

“It’s okay, I love you okay” I said wiping his eyes and looking at him

“I love you too” he responded

I pulled Matt in and kissed him. It was a deep passionate kiss. A kiss that we so badly needed.

Matt laid in my arms the whole night as we spoke to each other. Talking about our feelings and how we wanted to change. He listened to every word I said carefully and I did the same

Matt was my ride or die, and I could not live without him.

The End

Alright guys I hope both people who requested this imagine enjoyed it! I loved writing this one! And I hope yall enjoyed it 🤭🤭🖤🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 5

Part 4

to tboyeddie and kas-eddie-munson: yall are on the right track ;)

to a-blog-of-negotiable-affections: i hope this part makes your brain just as goopy as the last.

Steve closed the door to the hotel bedroom. He thought about how he'd already been fucked in this bed. Then he wondered how much longer Eddie would be in town and what sort of bed he'd be taken in next. He went to the bathroom first, checking himself over. Eddie hadn't marked him up yet. But from the way he used his teeth, Steve could tell he wanted to.

He decided to give Eddie a few more minutes to get wherever he was going. In the meantime, he undressed, got comfortable on the bed and checked his socials before getting started.

------------------------

Leaving Steve behind was probably the most difficult thing he had to do. But there was no getting out of it when his manager called a meeting like this. But he literally had a hot and ready omega waiting for him. So he was going to be diligent and knock this out so he could get back.

"Alright, I'm here", he announced, using both hands to thrust open the doors of the conference room. "You can all calm down now."

"About time." His manager had her arms crossed. Chrissy looked small and cute but Eddie only let that fool him once. She'd taken their band out of dive bars and brought them into relevance. The rest of his band was there as well, sitting around a table.

From how urgent it sounded, Eddie had a hunch this was about a future venture. Now whether it was a tour or a new album or something like that, Eddie was all for, and glad that they wanted him present for the strategy meeting. But Steve...

His phone buzzed with a text notification and he opened it, eyes bulging and closing it, looking around to see if anyone saw. Gareth was too his left, but with enough distance that he'd have to crane his neck to see his phone. Cautiously, Eddie opened it up again and swallowed.

Steve: Daddy left me all alone guess I have to play with myself Steve: image.jpeg

The picture was of Steve's mouth, his lips shiny with two fingers dipped down to the first knuckle. Eddie could tell from the framing that Steve was in bed, and at the very least shirtless. He put his phone face down but the image was burned in his head. Steve was naked in the hotel room, pleasuring himself, hopefully to the thought of Eddie.

"Got something on your mind, Eds?", Jeff asked when he noticed his strange look.

"Uh, just thinking about covers, you know, covers could be cool it's been a minute since we performed covers."

Gareth perked up. "What if we did a metal cover of a non-metal song? Those are always a hit."

Eddie smiled. They'd only done that live a couple of times but they did it a lot more before they got discovered. Between the four of them, they had varied music tastes and it was always a great creative exercise to change them to fit the new genre.

Then his phone buzzed again.

Eddie bit his lip and peeked at the new picture. This time it was of Steve playing with his chest, nipple pinched between two fingers. The last time they were together, he'd only gotten a taste of him. Eddie wanted more time to explore everything Steve had to offer. He needed more time.

The next picture came more quickly. This time it was of Steve's lower half. It started from his belly button to the very top of his crotch, those dark curls tempting before disappearing under the covers.

Eddie: Tease Eddie: I thought you said you were gonna be good Steve: I never said that

The next picture was of Steve's hand dipping under the blanket. Eddie turned his phone face down on the table again as he let his imaginations run wild. He tamped it down when Chrissy gave him a worried look. He really didn't need his pheromones stinking up the joint. If the boys knew he was mooning over the same omega as before, he'd never hear the end of it. They'd probably meet Steve soon enough anyway.

Steve: You're the one who said to keep it warm

The next image popped up but Eddie put his phone down before it could fully load, sure that it would be the end of him. Grant and Jeff were having a friendly debate on their outfits for the next show and Eddie couldn't hold back anymore. He opened up the image and was blessed with Steve's glorious, sopping cunt, spread out on white sheets.

Eddie bit so deep into his knuckle he would've tasted blood had Gareth not slammed his hands down onto the table. Eddie was glad that his friends were always so passionate about whatever adventure they were on. At times like these, it freed him from having to be an active participant.

Eddie: Behave

He tried paying attention after that. It was bad form to pop a boner and he'd get to sink into that sweet heat soon enough. He was going to knot Steve this time. He deserved it, his pussy was desperate for him and Eddie wasn't so unkind to deny him.

Now Chrissy was asking them about venues and Eddie was attentive and alert and had his head in the game and-

buzz

It was a video. Sent from Steve. Eddie sucked in a breath and quickly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Taking no chances, he plugged his headphones into the jack and locked the door to the stall. He saw thick, hairy legs that he was already familiar with but wanted to get to know even better. Steve sighed straight into his ears as he straddled one of the hotel's pillows.

"Wish it was you, alpha." He let out a small whine as he started to grind, no doubt getting the pillow wet.

Eddie palmed himself as he watched, wishing the same with all his might. Steve moaned, unbidden as he got himself off on the softness between his legs. Eddie pulled out his cock and it wasn't hard to imagine Steve sliding his pussy on it like he'd been trying to do to his leg earlier. He could tell by the panting that Steve was getting close and his hips moved quicker.

He moaned Eddie's name and collapsed, face still out of frame while his hips stuttered. Fuck, that pillow must be soaked. Eddie pumped his cock, just the thought of getting it wet with Steve's juices enough to push him over the edge.

After cleaning himself up, he locked the video. It was for his eyes only. He returned to the meeting, secret safe except it wasn't.

"Dude, you reek", Jeff said the moment he walked in.

"Yeah, does planning really get you that hard?", Grant teased.

"You know it does, Grant-master Flash", Eddie beamed. He shot off a quick message to Steve.

Eddie: Baby likes to put on a show hope you're ready for an encore later

Steve: 🩷

About an hour later, the meeting ended and Eddie was able to get back to Steve. He called out his name when he got to the hotel room and when he didn't get an answer, he went to the bedroom. There was his latest obsession, sleeping like an angel. Eddie walked over quietly, his nose catching the scent of the pillow Steve had used, lying next to him. Eddie buried his face in it, his tongue coming out to lick whatever was left.

Then he turned his attention to Steve. He was lying on his side, blanket only covering him from the hips down. It must have been very purposeful, because Eddie was able to see something peeking out. He pulled the cover down a bit to see a little sticky note attached to his pelvis. There was a little message, with an arrow pointing downwards.

Play with me until I wake up

Eddie could have thrown his hands up in praise. But instead, he would partake in the communion Steve was giving him.

Steve woke up from his nap to someone kissing his neck and kneading his chest. He let out a soft sigh when one of his nipples was pinched. The spicy musk of aroused alpha filled his senses.

"Eddie~", he breathed out as a hand trailed down his torso.

"I see you kept it warm for me", Eddie murmured, letting his fingers slip between his folds.

Steve was still half asleep and it made everything move like syrup in his mind. It was like an amazing dream that he didn't want to wake from. He spread himself as best as he could on his side and that gave Eddie room to start slipping his fingers inside.

"Daddy....Daddy..."

"I've gotchu, baby." Eddie started nibbling at his shoulder. "Think you can take my knot like this?"

"Yes", Steve answered right away, the remnants of sleep knocked from him at the thought of being filled like that. "Yes", he repeated, hoping it would spur Eddie on.

It got the desired result because he felt the tip of his cock rubbing up against him. Steve pushed back and Eddie pulled his fingers out, quickly replacing it with something better. Eddie meant to go slow, let them take their time because they had time. But Steve rocked back and Eddie pressed his forehead to his shoulder as he slid inside.

"Mmmmfuck, feel so good baby. So perfect for me."

"Only the best-ah-for my alpha."

Eddie couldn't let him get away. Not when he drove him wild like this. Even when he was done with this town and onto the next, he had to take Steve with him.

"Need you with me, need your sweetness. You'll want for nothing, baby, I'll give you anything."

For a split second, Steve wondered if his pussy was really that good to make Eddie babble things like that but the next moment he was certain that Eddie's dick was really that good. As it thrust into him, making wet noises in the room, Steve wanted to follow it around the world. If Eddie wanted to take him to the Arctic, Steve would be there, ready to sit on his face.

It was just as good as before, then Steve felt that knot pop in and he saw stars. Eddie bit into his shoulder as he felt Steve milking his cock. All that was missing was the feeling of actually cumming inside of him. Eddie always wrapped it up, obsessed with Steve or not. Until such a time that Steve confessed that he wanted Eddie's seed coating his insides then-

"Hey, you remember how you said we're exclusive?", Steve asked through pants.

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking..." He craned his neck to meet Eddie's gaze from behind him. "I'm thinking maybe that means you can go without the condom."

Eddie's dick twitched from inside Steve. This man would be the death of him.

Too spent to go out, Eddie ordered them room service and Steve spent the night there again. Back at home, Steve contemplated looking up Eddie's band and learning more about them. He debated simply because he didn't know how much of it would come up. Eddie was taking him to a party. Would he be expected to know their hits? Or how respected they were in the business? Or their rivals were if they had any?

Steve couldn't help but compare this to the life he'd left behind. Being told to smile prettily while the alphas talked business. Eddie probably wasn't expecting him to know much about anything. He'd bought him a nice suit and would have something pretty to show off for the evening. That was Steve's job.

He let out a sigh and opened up his laptop. He searched up 'corroded coffin' and strapped in for the evening.

Part 6

I realized that while i've been tagging the a/b/o stuff, I never really put up a warning for the daddy kink stuff but like...yall read the title LOL

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian

[blueberrypancakesworld]

- anon

Ewan as Martin in the Fontaines D.C. music video "in the modern world" with the song "emo boy" by Ayesha Erotica specifically with the lyric "he may not look like he gets bitches, but honey that dick was 11 inches", would it be okay if you could write something based off of this? i know it's super vague but i'd like you to have some freedom with this request and let loose and write whatever comes to mind with this as the basis of the smutty, slutted–out oneshot/blurb/drabble (whatever writing form you'll use x)

Modern world and modern love

Martin x girlfriend! reader

warning : +18, smut, mentions of wounds/blood, pain play, body whorship, fluff/comfort

Summary : In a modern world it's hard to be sure of anything, he knew and she knew but while she helped with pain Martin needed the pain a difference between them that brought them both together again and again in the early hours of the morning in a heated encounter of love, lust and pain.

info : thank you very much for the request dear anon i thank you for all the freedom and hope you like how it comes across, enjoy reading and have a nice day :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was always the same in the city, you woke up, went to work, the day passed you by and at the end of the day when the sun went down you were already back in bed trying to sleep.

A never-ending cycle of doing nothing and living and yet feeling nothing, something almost everyone knew about but only a few could do anything to feel something again.

They existed together, a nurse and he a dark spot in the night, a sentient young man who ‘helped’ others to feel again in a way that may have seemed unusual but in a city where there was infinity it was necessary.

A nurse in white to contrast with his black who cared for the victims and made them realise with hope that there was always something to feel…until she always came back to her heart in the morning hours.

The sun slowly faded and then the foggy city with the heavy clouds loomed, a car pulled up in front of his house, the lights of the headlights always pointed at his room, showing him for a moment that she was back, that she would be with him again as soon as the lights went out and he heard the front door key.

,,I'm back!" her voice echoed through the house but only reached his ears which still seemed to be ringing from the punches, kicks and choking he thought he could barely hear his own voice as he returned a mumbled ,,I missed you” and heard her take off her shoes and hang up her coat before heading towards the bedroom.

The squeaking of the door like the ticking of a clock seemed to be the same every time and yet he didn't straighten up he lay sideways looking at the slowly brightening window ,,Oh I missed you too my bat" she mumbled her mood more cheerful than his it was always like a sun coming back to him and his gratitude for her was almost greater than the love between them.

The bed squeaked as she lay next to him her gentle hand over his body he had just laid down as well the smell of disinfectant, blood and rain seemed to cling to them ,,I'm sorry" he said as he winced the cracked knuckles ached as her fingers touched them but she just grinned gripped his hand tighter hearing the sharp intake of his air not afraid but excited for what was to come.

It was always the same every time she came back he lay there on the bed messy hair, cracked knuckles, bleeding lips and scratches on his face that were as dark as the strangulation marks around his neck and in return she did what always brought him back to loving him now.

She let her hands wander slowly over him, cuddling her upper body against him, pulling lightly at the strands of his hair, she would comb them later and braid them a little, ,,You seem happy," Martin realised and his slightly trembling hand stroked her cheek, leaving a slight hint of blood behind as she cuddled her head in his hand, his coldness still seeming to cling to him, the night not wanting to leave him.

She nodded, running her hand over the choke marks on his neck and told him how she had treated a few sex workers in the last few hours and they had associated her with him, ,,They seemed almost embarrassed to ask but they wanted to know if I was sleeping with you," she said and couldn't help but laugh when she saw that Martin was laughing too and his hands held her tighter, it had happened somehow since she had seen Martin on her night shift at the hospital.

He had been hanging around outside too unsure to go in until she had intercepted him another night and just fixed him up since then it was like an unofficial rumour that they were like sun and moon together but someone like Martin with blood on him was hard to imagine that he could do something so intimate for some.

The cool tip of his nose touched hers as he asked her, ,,What did you tell them?‘ curiosity resonated in his voice as she felt his hands wandering under her shirt, pain and lust close together that they both knew, ,,Honey that dick was 11 inches" she said in a proud tone and an almost proud grin came to her lips before his lips captured hers in a long awaited kiss.

Martin opened her bra and the two of them kissed again and again, pulling the clothes off her body, she wanted his coldness and he needed her warmth he needed her softness she was different from the pain and his pain he had for her was something hard in a soft environment.

The more fabric the two lost the more different they became blood and colourful wounds on his body seemed to become more and more and her kisses barely kept up as she kissed his wounds, her hands pressing on them his moans filled the room as his hands explored her perfect body.

Not a single mark, scar or blood to be found on her was an angel who never seemed to be in pain, a thing that excited him, that he wanted to claim and that he loved when his dirty bloody fingers were on her, massaging her soft breasts, he could see exactly how she closed her eyes in pleasure, presenting her body for him, her lips moaning his name when he caused her anything more than pain.

,,Need-Need…you’ she breathlessly released his rough hands buried themselves in her hair and pulled her into another kiss his centre rubbed lightly against her thigh a shudder seemed to go through both their bodies a taste of what they would both get.

A throaty moan left her as his fingers lightly pinched her nipples she held herself against him trembling her fingernails pressed against a blueflecne making him moan too the pain he had was her arousal.

The knowledge that she was the other half of both of them was like a mirror that was reflected when they were together, ,,I'm here, dear," he hugged her from him so that she could be beneath him as much as he liked it when she put her hands around his neck when she rode him, he seemed to crave her completely today.

Her hands clung to the dark duvet as he kissed his way up her leg, caressing and cherishing every centimetre of her, ,,Perfect" she heard his voice every now and then he heard the lobe miest in front of him babbling barely audibly and yet full of love as he kissed his way up to her centre, her hands gently cupping his face, ,,I want you" she said to him as he overcame the moment to kiss her again as his hands went to her hips, taking the position they both wanted and entering her.

The kiss was punctuated by muffled moans and grunts as the feeling of familiarity seemed to be ever new her hands clutching at him he helped her through the moment with kisses and praise massaging her flesh scratching over his injuries before he saw her head nod slightly ,,I'm-only yours" he replied before he began to move still slightly cautious her hands still holding onto him at the beginning seeking the support that was hardly needed.

Her sounds were his spur her lust veiled gaze met his bright eyes the dark ones seemed dark with lust and blood he lost himself in her is one hand placed on her hip her body adjusting to his rhythm but never too firm he would never harm his heart, an angel, ,,Ahh-fuck my pretty shadow" her lips trembled as her body was once again reminded of his size and width she held onto him lightly.

Enjoying his touch as he used his other hand to cup her breasts and she massaged the mottled spots with her squeeze, the red of the blood resembling the warmth between them, the wet shudder running through the man's and woman's bodies as she wrapped her legs around his hips as she began to feel the pull in her abdomen, the tingling in her nipples and his thrusts that slowly became uncontrollable, the lust that seemed to merge the two more and more.

,,I'm here," she heard a mumbled, unspoken phrase somewhere between the moans, whimpering and grunting as she moved quickly, this time entangling him in a kiss, her hands scratching his back, his throaty moan resembling hers as he let go of her sleeve and ran his hands over the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing her to squeeze her back slightly, the intense feeling of arousal overwhelming both of them.

She could almost feel the twitching of his shoulders and his eyes, which seemed to darken further from the lust despite the increasing brightness outside, they were both close to climaxing, ,,I-I gonna fuuck cum," he heard her murmur and felt him pull her closer to him, the thrusts becoming faster but more intense, the closeness almost unbearably hot, threatening to engulf them both before their loud moans echoed through the house.

His pain mingled with her softness and vice versa the moans of two lovers as he held her close and she heard his own twitching as their bodies leaned together, shaky hands holding each other, murmured praise and sloppy kisses reaching cheek and lip.

The rays of the morning sun slowly fell on them both and they saw the beauty of each other an angel in white with wings of healing and a shadow with a bloody body merged for another night with the words they exchanged I love you before they lay together safely under the covers and would stay in this room together until the angel flew away and the shadow struck again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[xo-cori]

because second’s not the same

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: morals become blurred in a motel room with your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend.

warnings: smut (MDNI), comphet on reader’s end, internalized homophobia, lots of angst, cheating, sorry owen you seem cool, submissive top!abby ftw, hair pulling, fingersucking, facesitting, abby makes reader answer a call while getting down n dirty, they both hate men (real)

a/n: my first fic on this godforsaken app, hopefully it’s okay! this is based off of an old halsey song called “is there somewhere,” i highly recommend listening while you read

When your phone chimes twice at exactly ten o’clock on a Friday night, your heartbeat quickens and the air is stolen from your lungs. Your body seems to know who it is before you do. Maybe that should concern you or serve as a reminder of how much of a problem this is becoming, but instead, you unlock your phone and read the much anticipated message.

abby: Hey

abby: What are you up to tonight??

you: hey, i was just reading a bit before bed

abby: Sounds like a real party

you: shut up lol

you: why do you ask?

abby: Don’t make me say it

you: i’m making you say it

There’s a hesitance on Abby’s side, made obvious by how the text bubble appears and disappears as she types and deletes a response. It takes her a good minute to send another message.

abby: Just wanted to know if you’d meet me

abby: Please

you: there we go. be there in 20

Before you know it, you’re driving fifteen miles over the speed limit, chest tight and craving a release that only Abby can bring. You eventually step out of your car and into the near-empty parking lot of the old motel that you’ve become awfully familiar with these past few weeks.

Your feet guide you along the farthest side of the building, straight towards a room marked ‘93,’ and you invite yourself in.

In less than five minutes, your shirts are on the floor and her hands are on your hips and god, her thigh feels so good between yours. She always seems to know exactly what you need. More importantly, she wastes no time with giving it to you.

“Fuck,” Abby says, “been waiting for this all week.”

You nod in agreement, lost in the way she grinds you onto her with seemingly no effort. She sighs contentedly when your back arches, chest pressing into hers, enveloping her in your warmth and melting away all the stress of a long day. There’s a piece of heaven in this room with her. How could she worry about anything outside of it?

“Me too,” you reply. One of your hands grasps at her shoulder in attempt to steady yourself, caressing the tense muscle, while the other gently tugs her hair. The dirty blonde strands feel like silk between your fingers and you can smell the pine shampoo that she uses. It invades all of your senses. It makes you desperate for more. So, you tug harder. Her head falls back against the headboard with a groan and you use it as an opening, diving in to press your lips to her neck.

It’s messy, just how Abby likes it. Her grip on you tightens and she lets out a broken gasp.

She needs this just as much as you do, if not more– but you’re much more generous with the teasing.

“Feel good?” You mumble into her throat, before picking another patch of skin to suckle on. Every touch sends a bolt of electricity up her spine and decorates her freckled skin with goosebumps.

Still, Abby does what she does best, and clings to any power she still has. You don’t resist when she grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you back onto the bed. In fact, you only spread your legs wider so she can situate herself between them. Then, without wasting another moment, her lips come crashing down onto yours.

It’s always your favorite part of the night; when she kisses you so passionately that you can almost fool yourself into thinking it means something.

This isn’t supposed to mean anything, though.

You assure yourself that the sparks you feel are all make-believe, silently wrestling with the fact that you’ve never once felt this with Owen. Not even close.

Her tongue quickly finds yours in a heated battle for dominance that she’s already lost. There’s no telling just how long this goes on for– you’re so focused on the feeling of her large hands running up and down your body, soothing all the shame you feel about this arrangement as you caress her cheek with your thumb.

It’s a loving gesture. Too loving, Abby thinks. She shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but she does.

When she pulls away, your half-lidded eyes land on the redness on her face, her swollen lips, her hair that’s all messy from your wandering fingers. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts a glow to one side of her face, and a shadow on the other. The thumb that was once on her cheek starts moving toward her mouth, until it pushes past her waiting lips and she accepts it with a pleased hum.

You watch her intently as you press down on the center of her tongue. Her brows furrow up and she lets out a whine.

After a few more moments, you pull your thumb from Abby’s mouth and smear her own saliva across her lips. She opens her eyes to look down at you, finally, and you offer a warm smile. “You just take it.” You observe aloud. “Whatever I want, you just let it happen.”

It’s a stark difference from your relationship with Owen. There’s never any concern for what you want; though, to be honest, you wouldn’t be in a relationship with him if you could get actually get what you want. It’d be Abby’s apartment you go to every weekend. There’d be no motel and no deleted messages and no acting like mere acquaintances when Owen gets all of his friends together, including her and you.

If you could get what you wanted, you don’t think you’d ever want anything else ever again.

“Yeah.” She agrees, slightly muffled until you fully pull your hand away. “Whatever you want.”

Part of you feels bad. You have this woman wrapped around your finger, and you have to act like it’s nothing more than a convenience.

In reality, it’s everything to you.

So, the other part of you plans to take whatever you can from her.

“You really mean that?” You ask.

“Would I lie to you?” She asks in return.

You pat her cheek. “Lay down, then.”

Without another word, Abby does as she’s told. The two of you switch positions and she watches you peel off the rest of your clothes, while she lays in a grey sports bra and a pair of boxers.

She starts to feel excited when she thinks you’ll move down further like usual, your face nestled between her legs until you’re pulling orgasm from orgasm out of her.

Her heart nearly stops, though, when she sees you pull off your own panties and begin crawling up her body.

‘Excited’ doesn’t do it justice. You’ve hardly done anything and she already feels like she might die of happiness.

You feel her hands grab your ass, encouraging you to move much faster than you are, and you hesitantly oblige. “You can push me off if you need to, yeah?” You clarify. “Don’t wanna suffocate you or anything.”

Abby nods with a quiet mm-hmm only to appease you, but in her mind, suffocating to death while you sit on her face would be an honor. She’d probably die beneath you before the thought of pushing you off ever crosses her mind. For now, though, you do your best to be gentle as she ushers you to fully hover over her mouth.

Then, she pulls you down onto it.

A strangled moan escapes you when her tongue immediately finds its target, her patience clearly worn thin as she latches to your clit. Your hands fly down to grab her hair in attempt to ground yourself, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’re having an out-of-body experience.

The worst part? Only Abby can make you feel this way.

Guilty, and so, so good.

Maybe she doesn’t know the extent of your feelings, but she knows your body like the back of her hand, and she uses that to her advantage. Her fingers dig into the pillowy flesh above your hip bones, surely hard enough to leave a few bruises, but you never complain about marks until you see them in the morning.

“Abs,” you manage breathlessly, “ease up, baby–”

You’re cut off by another moan as she somehow manages to pull you down further, unrelenting and making it impossible for you to escape. Not that you’d want to, anyways. So, you just grab her hair with one hand and grab the headboard with the other as your eyes flutter shut.

That is, until you hear your phone vibrate on the bedside table. Once, twice, three times; you soon realize that it isn’t stopping.

“Fuck.” You groan.

Abby looks up at you and slightly moves you down so she can speak, seemingly much more entertained by this than you. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Owen,” you say truthfully, “I was supposed to go over to his place tonight, but here we are.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you blew him off for me?”

“No shit. I’ll just silence it and pretend I fell asleep.” You grumble. Then, you reach over to grab the phone before she takes a hold of your wrist.

“Answer it.” She says.

You can’t help but laugh despite the forming pit of anxiety in your stomach, because you know that she’s dead serious. “What?”

“You heard me. Answer it or I’ll stop.” She repeats, making your eyes widen.

“…Fine, but can you please—” You’re interrupted by Abby pressing the green button for you, and you quickly bring the phone towards your ear.

The sound of Owen’s voice makes your chest feel tight. “Hey,” he says with an obvious concern in his voice. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you can only let out a gasp when you feel Abby’s lips wrap around your clit. Thankfully, her tongue moves more slowly than before, deciding to show you some mercy. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, I fell asleep– I’m sorry, I really don’t feel good today. Think I might’ve caught something.”

It’s a pathetic excuse, but you can only hope he buys it. “Oh, that’s… uh, not good.” He mumbles, which makes you roll your eyes. “Do you want me to bring anything to your place? I have this cold medicine that could literally heal the bubonic plague, and I’m pretty sure I have some soup in one of these cabinets somewhere,”

You can hear him rummaging around on the other line. “No!” You blurt out. The last thing you need is Owen stopping by just to find out that you aren’t home. “No, I’m okay. Appreciate it, though.”

“You sure? If you’re worried about me getting sick, I can just leave it outside the door.” He continues.

“Really, Owen, it’s fine. Pretty sure I’ll feel better in the morning,” you assure him.

He sighs. “Whatever you say. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I’ll bring whatever you need.”

He’s kind. Too kind, considering your current situation. Abby’s mouth is latched to the most sensitive parts of you, her blue eyes staring up at you as you try your hardest to keep your voice steady. She kneads at the back of your thighs, getting you into a rhythm while you rut against her tongue.

All the while, you’re on the phone with a man who deserves much better. You’re aware of this. You tilt your head back with a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” you reply, “thanks, Owen. ‘Night.”

You don’t even wait for him to say it back before you hang up the phone, quickly throwing it off of the bed onto the carpeted floor. Abby smiles, and you can feel it. You reach down to grab a handful of her hair and pull it as hard as you can– which isn’t very hard, but it still makes her whine. “Fuck you,” you huff, thighs tensing on either side of her head, “I’m so close, Abs.”

Any annoyance you feel is overshadowed by the orgasm creeping up on you much quicker than usual. You already know that you’ll never forgive yourself for being so turned on by something so horrible.

Abby sticks her tongue out so that you can ride it, letting out moans of encouragement as you finally tip over the edge. Your mouth falls open and a gush of wetness fills Abby’s, which she happily laps up with her warm tongue. Her hands wander over your shivering body, listening to your muffled moans with her eyes trained on your face; more specifically, the tears that begin to run down your cheeks.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to crawl off of her face and crash into the bed beneath you, much to Abby’s dismay, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she crawls to your side, placing a strong arm over your stomach so she can pull you closer.

Though all of your instincts scream to push her away, you just curl into her and bury your face in the crook of her neck. She thinks maybe, just maybe, everything is fine; of course, until she hears you let out a quiet sob. One of her hands comes up to rub your back, a soothing gesture that only makes you cry harder.

“Hey,” Abby whispers, “are you… did I do something wrong? Was it the phone thing? ‘Cause if it is, I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“It isn’t that.” You mutter.

It’s only a half-lie. Honestly, you aren’t crying because you spoke to your boyfriend as if you weren’t hooking up with his ex, no. You’re crying because you thought it was the hottest thing ever.

“Isn’t it, though?” She questions. “Seriously, I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Abs– I swear, it’s not you, it’s just… this. All of this. I don’t like it.” You do your best to reassure her, but it only causes more confusion.

“What, and you think I do? Because I don’t. I like you, though, so I deal with it. That’s what we agreed to.” Abby says. You can tell she’s upset no matter how gentle her voice is. There’s a certain bite to it, a venom that you’re quick to pick up on. “He’s my friend too, you know. This isn’t easy for me either.”

This comment makes you rear back a bit, looking up at her with furrowed brows. “I know that, Abby. None of this is easy for either of us. He’s my boyfriend, and he was yours at one point, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” she scoffs.

You give her a stern look. “I’m serious. This is gonna end one way or another. Someone’s gonna find out.”

Her grip on your waist tightens. “No one’s gonna find out if we don’t let them find out.”

“You don’t know that.” You shake your head. “All it takes is one fuck up.”

“So, what do you wanna do? You wanna break this off now and go back to being acquaintances?” Abby asks, voice raised defensively.

“Obviously not!” You yell, sitting up and dragging the comforter along so you can cover yourself. “I love you, Abby. I love being with you and talking to you and—”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that.” She interrupts you, which is probably for the better.

It’s different for Abby, being one of Owen’s closest friends, because he’s unaware of how well she knows you and so he feels comfortable confiding in her about your relationship. A big problem he seems to have is that you’ve never once said the word love. Not to him, at least. Not about him.

Yet, here you are, throwing that word around just for her.

She wants to feel honored, but she finds herself only feeling guilt. The kind that makes her throat tighten and her heart drop.

You groan in frustration. “But it’s true!”

“So make it untrue!” She shouts back. “You can’t just… say shit like that, and expect me to be okay with it. You’re supposed to love Owen.”

A confession bubbles up in your chest, one that you know you should shake away, but your mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “But I don’t.” You mumble. “I want to. I just can’t.”

Abby stares at you like she’s seen a ghost. All conversations she’s had with Owen about you– ones about how he’d propose to you someday, wondering if you’d want to have kids, asking if it was too early on in the relationship to think about saving for a house– they all become null. The worst part? Abby thinks she might know exactly how you feel. “You can’t? What does that mean?” She asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” You reply. “I try, but I can’t. We go on dates, and the whole time, I’m just waiting for it to be over. We watch a movie together, and I pretend to fall asleep so he doesn’t try anything. It’s exhausting, Abby. None of it feels right. Every single fucking guy I’ve been with– it never feels right. The only relief has been you.”

Abby listens to your rant with a blank expression, reaching up to wipe some stray tears from your cheeks with her thumb. “So, you’re gay.” She says.

You quickly grab her wrist and shove her hand away. “I’m not gay.” You hiss.

She sighs. “You just sat on my face. You’re a little gay.”

“Okay, fine, maybe a little!” You throw your hands up defensively. “But I don’t like other women. I like you.”

Truthfully, it’s all too much for Abby to take in at once; she does her best to appear, knowing her best bet is to calm you down, but she can’t imagine how much it would break Owen to know this. To know that he’s now been left by two women due to a sexuality crisis. Would he think it’s his fault? Would he guess that Abby had something to do with it? She likes you too, maybe more than she knows, but it’s an impossible situation.

When you’re met with silence on Abby’s end, you continue. “You’re gonna think I’m horrible for this, but it’s true; I’ve been waiting for him to fuck up so I have a reason to leave him. Some nights, he tells me he’s going to a party and I’ll go to sleep hoping I wake up to a text from Manny about how Owen got a little too drunk and some girl looked enough like me,” you shrug, “I’ve had that scenario in my head for weeks. It’s so convenient.”

“You’re fucked up,” Abby shakes her head, “fantasizing about him cheating while you’re sleeping with his friend? Jesus.”

“But it’s true, right? Then I could just leave him. No goodbye, no nothing. I’d give him all his sweatshirts back and let him see me wearing yours instead.” You say, and she immediately recognizes that tone in your voice. Something dark, something you put on when you know what you want and you’re set on getting it.

It hurts to hear you talk about her friend like he’s nothing more than an obstacle. It hurts even more to know that, deep down, she’d felt the exact same way once.

Wishing he’d leave her, knowing that he never would.

“Yeah.” She huffs, now visibly doing her best to avoid eye contact. Her eyes skitter around the room and it doesn’t take long for you to regret speaking your mind. “That sounds like an easy way out, but you should know by now that there’s nothing easy about being with Owen. Nothing’s easy about cheating, either.”

You nod in agreement. There’s a heavy silence after that, one that leaves you both staring down and biting your cheeks and feeling like all your sins had been laid out in front of you. The weight of it all is overbearing, but still so worth it.

“It’s easier with you,” you mutter after a minute, “and I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t feel the same.”

“I wouldn’t.” Abby agrees, deciding to leave it at that. “Do you… uh, do you wanna stay the night? Here, with me?”

Finally, your eyes meet hers, and she hates the way this simple action reignites the spark inside of her. You tilt your head. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t really return the favor, huh?”

Her jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as she fights back a smile. She shouldn’t be so infatuated with you– your every movement, every word– but she is.

The smile escapes her efforts and she shakes her head. “No. No, you didn’t.”

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| vi. six | over the hill, between the palm trees

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: mentions of death. mentions of running away. hobie crying. mentions of Hobie and reader not talking.

↳ ❝ dis life we got, it's too short fo’ you to ‘old on to dis rage ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The chatter of the market made Hobie remember how much he missed being surrounded by people. Oh, how much he loved humanity. The merchant men trying to make a decent living for their families, selling clothing made by their wives, and fruits and vegetables cultivated from their farms by their children. It was harvest season and everyone presented their very best.

He and his crew had made their way to land for more supplies. It would be a brief visit. A single night and they’d be off at sea again. Spending weeks upon weeks out at sea meant that just the idea of being on solid land excited everyone. The entire ship buzzed with the news for days. Life at sea was often boring and draining. Sea sickness of the mind set in and soon one was ready to toss themselves off the ship to escape the monotony. It was easy to get excited over something as small as standing on something other than wood.

Two young children rushed past him, their bare feet stirring up dirt as they ran and let joyous laughter escape their fruit-filled mouths, markings of a happy childhood. They ran to an older woman who he presumed was their mother who held their hands and walked them through the market. For a moment, he mistook her for his mother. The same silhouette, the same scolding face, she even wrapped her head the same way. But he knew better.

Hobie lowered his head and kicked a rock in front of him before turning around to go find the oranges he was looking for. You had eaten all of them, sneaking them in the night and eating them alone in the storage room where you slept. You did not come back to Hobie's door. He never tripped over your curled up body again.

You and Hobie did not speak for the last 4 days you were out at sea. It was a rather difficult task–avoiding each other. There were only so many places the two of you could be at once that didn’t happen to be where the other was. For once, you turned your pearly gaze from him every time he entered the same space as you and he ignored you as if you weren’t even there.

Did he feel bad? In an odd sort of way. But that song was sacred and triggered something within him, something primal. You had no business even knowing it, much less letting it rattle in your throat. But maybe he shouldn’t have snapped at you so harshly. There was no use in apologizing though, he figured. Your wound was healing. Your bandage (now managed by Gwen) was no longer spotted with blood in the mornings. You’d be gone soon and at this rate, you’d be more than happy to leave.

Hobie walked through the market he knew well in his youth. No one seemed the recognize him. He had changed so much over the years from a hardened life at sea. He was grateful for it. Didn’t need anyone asking him where he went, where he’s been, bringing up the unfortunate fate of his mother. A tragedy that still seemed to linger around the island. Hobie heard mothers scolding their children about going near the water. “Ya don’ wanna end up like tha’ poor woman.”

He rounded the corner only to bump into a small woman, knocking her basket to the ground.

“Oh, ‘m sorry.” Hobie rushed to pick up her things and place them back into her basket. The lady stood there, staring at him. She was old, petite, with a wooden cane and graying hair peeking out of her headwrap. “‘Obie?”

Hobie hadn’t heard that voice in many years, since he ran away from this small island and became a pirate. It was a bit fraile now, but just as recognizable.“‘untie?”

His Aunt Maya had taken him in when he was just a boy after his mother walked into that ocean and never came out. She was not blood related but she was family all the same. It was a shame that he had left her but he could not bear to remain on this island anymore longer.

He stood up with her basket, towering over her small fragile frame. “‘untie, I didn't tink–”

“Dat I still be ‘live, huh?” She smiled with the coy playfulness she always seemed to display. She lightly slapped him on the arm. “Look a’cha. All big ‘n strong now. Wha’ happen to da wee lil’ boy I cared fo’?” She looked him up and down, examining him. She felt his arms and stomach and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You no’ eatin’ ‘enough, ‘Obie. Why don'cha gimme a hand and take dis stuff back ‘ome? I’ll make us some tea.” She turned and began to walk and with an obedience he hadn’t had in a long time, he followed.

Maya still lived in the very same place he remembered, on a hill tucked between palm trees ripened with coconuts. She grabbed him for stability as they hiked the hill together in silence and made their way to her home. 

The door was still partially broken. It got stuck easily. Hobie immediately went ahead of her and barged the door open for her as he did when he was young. He held it open, watched as she waddled passed him with her cane, setting it down beside the door. “Now, put dat down ‘n gimme some love, boy.”

He put the basket down beside the door and gave her a long, warm hug. So small, he could have picked her up off the ground if he wanted to, she hugged him back as if he were her very own. She raised him the same way. It contained all the love and acceptance of being hugged by a mother. Hobie would not insult her by calling her a surrogate, she was far more.

When he released her, she waddled away to start a fire. “No ‘untie. Lemme do i’. You sit down.” Maya shooed him dismissively with her hand and grabbed some wood from the corner. “Don' treat me like ‘m old. I been doin’ jus fine wit’cha gone. Si’ down.”

The words sent a pang through his chest. He had left her with her so much as a proper goodbye and fled in the night to board a random ship to take him to sea. He was young and stupid. He never thought of how that would have affected her. He lowered his head almost in shame. “‘m sorry, ‘untie.” It was a shameful thing what he did, leaving her so unceremoniously.

She shuffled about with her small fire. “Don't ‘pologize. Ya did wha'cha had t’. I though’ you was dead fo’ a while bu’, I had faith that you was okay. You always been a survivor.” She placed a pot of water over the fire and fanned her hand over the smoke to keep it out of her face.

Maya wasn't mad at him though she had every right to be. She mourned him for many years and with time she learned to understand his decision. He was young and he was scared in a world without his mother, what was he supposed to do? Stay? Let the memories haunt him? Pass his mother's home on the way to the market and mourn for the rest of his life? He needed to leave to free himself.

“Yer no’ mad?” He asked softly, looking at her with a disgraceful frown, brows furrowing.

Maya shook her head. Her lips  “‘m no’ mad. But I hafta wonder wha’cha come back fo’. I expected to neva see ya ‘gain.” She came and sat with him while the water took its time to boil. It was just as it was before, as if he never left, as if his departure had been all but a blip in time.

Hobie thought of what to say for a long while. “I jus’ missed ya.” This island was not the closest to them when he decided they needed more supplies. He went out of his way to come to this one. Against all odds, he missed home. “‘m a cap’tn of a ship and I came here for supplies…”

“‘N t’ see if I was still here,” she finished. Hobie nodded slowly. He felt like a child again, fingers fiddling and tugging at each other. “An’ t’see if you was still here,” he echoed.

There was silence. Hobie took his time looking around the home he had spent such a brief part of his childhood. Nothing had changed, everything was just the same. His eyes lingered on the unfinished basket in the corner, his mother's. The basket that would never be finished.

“Ya still got this ting?” Hobie got up and went over to it. He picked it up with a grunt and felt the brittle fragility of it in his hands, like it would wither to dust if he held it too hard. He pressed it close to him as if he’d be able to feel the lingering presence of his mother on it. Her fingers fiddling with the straw and weaving it with such meticulous care.

Maya sighed softly to herself and shook her head. “How could I eva get rid of i’? It means so much t’ya. ’M surprised ya didn' take it wit’cha when ya left.”

“Had t’travel ligh’.” Hobie murmured distantly. He was back in front of that fire with his mother, working diligently on this very basket. The very last thing her nimble hands touched.

He remembered it so clearly. Falling asleep in her arms and waking up to a distant melody. He mother was gone, nothing left of her but the basket and her headwrap. He tugged at it, hanging from the belt around his waist. He carried it around with him, always.

The water was boiling over now, Hobie nodded to it and Maya got up to tend to it. “Take i’ wit’cha. Was made fo’ ya afterall.” She took the water off the fire and got some hibiscus to let it steep.

Hobie looked at this basket and thought of you. Your destroyed basket, the fear in your eyes, the anger in his voice, the broken lantern. He wanted to yell again. He wanted to destroy the godforsaken basket like he destroyed yours, he wanted to toss it into the fire. He wanted to cry. He wanted to burn. There was rage in his eyes, it exuded from him like a wave. His hand tightened against the basket. Maya could feel it.

“Da anger you got ‘Obie, you need to le’ i’ go.” She hummed with a voice meant to soothe. “‘T do ya no good. ‘T will ’old ya back. Dis life we got, it's too short fo’ you to ‘old on to dis rage.” Maya poured the tea into a small cup and shuffled over to Hobie, frozen where he was with tears streaking his dark cheeks. She took the basket from his hands and replaced it with the tea cup.

With gentle hands, Maya reached up and wiped his cheeks. “Fo'give. Yourself and whatever took ‘er from ya. Le’ ya self live. Do ya some good.” She lightly patted his cheek and took him by the arm. “Now come sit ‘n drink ya tea. ‘M sure ya can' stay long.”

So Hobie sat with Maya and spoke to her of his many adventures at sea, carefully working around the very real siren he was housing on his very own ship in fear that she may simply pass away due to the excitement of it all. He enjoyed the small taste of home and almost wept again with the emotion of it all.

He stayed for hours, until the sun began to set over the horizon. “I can't stay, ‘untie.” It broke his heart to leave her but Maya seemed quite fine with him going. She made her peace with the way things are. Hobie had to learn to do the same. He lived in too much regret, lingered in the past. He couldn't let go. But he could learn to.

“I know ya can' but come ‘n visit more of’en, boy.” She reached out and pinched his cheek endearingly. “Take tha’ basket wit’cha. She would've wan’ed ya t’ ‘ave i’.”

He took the basket with him as he left, holding it in his arms with the tenderness something so old and sacred deserved. Walking down the path back towards the harbor, he looked over the horizon painted in broad strokes of peach and tangerine.

And in the distance, over the hill, between the palm trees, he could see his mother's old home sitting over the horizon.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek @shutingstar @pixieofthesun @hobiesbf