#There is a Two Wolves joke in there somewhere

[jet-teeth]

Need more dreadnougts around here, it's been a hot minute Some sketches from a bit ago, further attempts at trying to keep it loose but still be somewhat structural/technical

[fairestwriting]

Hello there! Love your writing! How about my sweet Savanaclaw boys finding out that their crush (or S/O) sleeps cuddling a plushie of their respective animals (like a wolf for Jack). Thanks! I love Jack so much :)

me while jumping at the opportunity of writing the man: i hate leona

Leona Kingscholar

He is canonically a very smart and perceptive guy. But somewhere in my heart I just know he wouldn't fully make the connection for a while. Just trust me on that one.

Kind of pokes fun at your "cat" plushie. What's with that thing, Herbivore? Aren't you a little too old for stuffed animals? Though he steps back if it makes you genuinely upset, which isn't what he's going for, he's just being an ass as a joke again. A part of him thinks it's really endearing, even before it really clicks for him.

He kind of feels vaguely jealous of the plushie. If you bring it while you two are sleeping together he'll pull the what do you need this thing for, I'm right here kind of shtick.

Confused on why you sleep with a plushie in the first place, more confused about why this stuffed cat looks so weird... oh, wait.

He's stupidly proud when it actually clicks. Of course he won't tell you it went over his head for the longest time, but all of a sudden, he's all smug whenever he sees you with the plushie, saying you could've just called if you missed him so much.!

Ruggie Bucchi

Takes a hot second to make the connection, but a lot less than Leona. The delay is mostly because he's never expected to see a hyena plushie of all things.

Actually loves it because it reminds him of the kids back home a little. He asks where you bought it, how much it was, tells you a little story about a kid he knew who wanted one just like that.

He won't explicitly ask to hold it but you should offer it, he loves your little buddy, he's already said you should come to him if you ever need to get a tear patched up. Doesn't even have it in him to make a joke about it being childish, at most tells you he'll keep it a secret if you look embarrassed.

When he does notice though, while poking at the plushie's little ears absentmindedly, he's the one who gets flustered. Oh no, that's really cute kind of realization.

He wants to sound cool when he says that, you know, if you want to sleep with him, you can just invite him over, but he does fail pretty hard. He can't help it, though, it's just way too endearing to him.

...Besides, he's already offered to co-parent the toy. If it doesn't have a name, it's just a matter of time before Ruggie asks and "jokingly" comes up with suggestions.

Jack Howl

Only one who thinks it might have to do something with him... but he's kind of too flustered to say anything about it for a good while.

He bashfully reassures you there's nothing wrong with keeping plushies around even if you're not a kid, maybe letting it slip that he thinks the little wolf is pretty cute... then pretending he didn't say anything.

Jack overthinks it a bit. Wolf plushies aren't that uncommon, right? You probably had it before you met him. He's too shy to ask if you had it before you met him.

He'll settle on... asking about the plushie itself. It might not have anything to do with him, but he knows pretty quickly that he wants it to. If you're not dating yet, he'll use the almighty excuse of asking about it because he needs to get his little siblings a gift.

Either way, though, the next excuse he gets, whether it's Christmas or your birthday or whatever, you find yourself with a very neatly wrapped box in your hands, and Jack nearly hiding behind it. Just saw it in a shop near home and thought you might like it, he says.

Whether your previous plushie was based on the exact same type of white wolf he is doesn't matter. If it is, it's getting a twin. You bet he scoured the shops to find it, blessing his luck on wolves being animals plenty of people love. He has a small, shy smile on his face when you take it.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 6)

Summary: Sam and Max's plan to get their siblings invited to a party may have worked but Sebastian Monroe is a dangerous man and they may have just put not only their lives but their families at risk too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Uh oh...

_________

Two Weeks Later

Reader POV

“Damn,” said Dean, shaking out his arm after you’d tossed him a football in the backyard. “I’m going to need your arm workout and no, I am not joking.”

“Oh my god, did I tell you the dance choreographer wanted me to learn to do a handstand so I could sing, upside down? I shut that shit down so fast,” you said, Dean gently tossing the ball back to you. 

“I’m sure you could do it. But I don’t blame you for not wanting to,” he said, catching the ball one handed. “Do you get a lot of say in that stuff? Dance moves?”

“That would require me to be able to dance,” you laughed, clasping both arms around the ball when he threw it back.

“She’s right. God awful dancer when it’s not choreographed. Miracle she can fake it as well as she does,” said Eric from the patio table, glancing up from his phone. “It’s four by the way.”

“Ugh. Why’d we say yes to this stupid party?” you asked. Dean shrugged.

“This guy donates a bunch of money to the Wolves charity every year. Plus Emma said it’s not a bad idea to go to a charity event together. Apparently it helps the public not think of me as such a scoundrel.” You tossed him the ball one last time, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I mean you are the big bad playboy corrupting the virtue of the sweet princess of pop,” you said, batting your eyes, twirling your hips. You grinned when he frowned, his eyes like a predator sizing up his prey. “I think the media is right about you. Such a bad influence.”

“Oh keep it up, princess, and I’ll tell them you ain’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Someone put me out of my misery,” groaned Eric, rising to his feet. “I’m getting dressed and going over protocols with the team. We’ll head out at seven.”

“Ain’t it kind of early to get ready?” asked Dean as you tossed him the ball one last time. Eric only laughed and headed inside, Dean cocking his head at you. “I know girls take a long time to get ready but three hours?”

“Shower. Shave. Makeup. Hair. Plus I told Sloane I’d help do her hair and pick out a dress,” you said, Dean humming. “I’m sure there’s a college game on you could watch for awhile.”

“I got some game film I can review,” he said, a heavy sigh in his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, Dean ditching the ball to return it. “It just never ends.”

“You love football, though,” you said, Dean nodding. 

“I do. But every year it’s getting to be more and more. I know you understand the pressure of it all. I just…I’m tired. I want to have more of a life outside my job,” he said, sliding his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, Dean sharing the same sad smile you wore. “Me, I can have less tour dates and not put out an album every single year. I can make more wiggle room for myself. But I know you can’t. And sometimes I worry when I watch you play, pushing your body so hard.”

“I’m incredibly lucky I’m the least sacked QB in the league. I’ve had only one surgery and that was cause I broke my toe like an idiot on a coffee table. I don’t want to be like these guys that stay in too long and wind up with so much pain at forty. Or worse.” 

“I guess the thing to ask yourself is, do you want to keep going? Or could you walk away and be satisfied?” you asked. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. 

“All I know is I used to put my head down, bury myself in the game. All I looked forward to was getting to the season, the start of a game, feeling that rush. This year…I’m looking forward to being done with work and games way too much. It’s like I’d rather be somewhere else…with someone else,” he murmured.

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Nothing to decide today.”

“I know. Go get ready. I can occupy myself for a few hours.”

“Damn,” you said when it was nearly seven. Sloane looked down at herself alarmed, glancing back worried. “Sloane, you’re fucking hot.”

“I’m forty two,” she scoffed, smoothing out the floor length gown. “I’m not hot.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you said, Sloane tucking a strand of freshly curled hair behind her ear. “Eric’s going to fucking drool.”

“He better not,” she mumbled, taking a breath as she put her leg up on a chair and hiked the skirt portion up. She opened up her clutch sat on the end of the bed and slapped a very small thigh holster on her right leg, a smaller than usual gun inside. 

“Right. Cause really hot women packing heat are total turn offs for him,” you said, adjusting the strap that ran across your shoulder. She pouted and you handed her the clutch. “You said you could work with him tonight. We’re only bringing two of you inside and we wanted our best.”

“I can. He’s good about not speaking about anything but strictly work lately,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Does he seem…different to you?”

You knew why she was asking. Eric had told you he needed a few hours a week off for therapy a few weeks back. You practically jumped for joy that he was going to get some help to work through some things. Then it all shattered when he said it was related to his dad and needing to address some stuff he did to him as a kid. He didn’t share more but you had a feeling that had as much impact on him as his days in the military, probably more.

“It’s hard to tell with him,” you said, trying to respect his privacy. Plus, it actually was difficult to see a difference. Eric held everything close to the chest. Sometimes too much.

“Yeah. There’ll be no issues working together this evening,” she said, forcing a smile. You wanted to offer some reassurance that he was trying and maybe someday things between them could change. But honestly, you had no clue if they would work things out.

“Good. Well, let’s go see the boys.” A moment later you were coming down the stairs, Dean and Eric wandering out from the front hall in their tuxedos. Eric had always looked handsome when he dressed up but Dean?

He was walking sin in the tailored outfit, showing off his large shoulders and trim waist. You could feel the heat in your cheeks when he stared like he wanted to devour you then and there.

“Wow,” said Dean, a growing smile on his face, eyeing you up and down. It was a fairly simple dress. Black. One shoulder and a thin strap on the other. Form fitting up top before it became loose at the hips. It probably didn’t match black tie standard one hundred percent but it’d been sitting in your closet for two years and you finally had an excuse to wear it.

“Wow yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “Put you in one of these and you’d never imagine you spend literally every single day in flannels, henleys, and black tees.”

“Strange considering I’ve seen you wearing those clothing items a lot more yourself lately,” he teased, grinning down like a cat staring at the mouse it’d cornered.

“Oh, just a coincidence,” you said, Eric clearing his throat. You rolled your eyes, getting a roll in return. “You look nice too, Eric. I know you need the compliment on your appearance or your ego will bust.”

“Why did I take this job,” he mumbled to himself, staring at Sloane as she walked ahead for the front door. “You look beautiful.”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him, his gaze shooting to you. 

“I know you’ve wanted to wear that dress for awhile,” he said to you, Sloane rolling her eyes and walking outside. Eric closed his eyes when she was gone, Dean slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m sure my hyper observant protection agent didn’t catch the way you said that straight to her face and then pretended to say it to your boss.” Eric shrugged him off and grumbled on his way outside, harshly pulling the door behind him. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have some kind of fairytale moment or shit. He looked like he wanted to fuck her over the kitchen table.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just…wait and see what happens,” you said, holding out your hand. “Ready to go?”

“One sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He slipped something elastic over your wrist, beaming when you stared down at it to find it was a friendship bracelet, like the kind from when you were kids. This one was black, gray and white, the LA Wolves colors. You turned it over when you felt a few square beads, expecting to see DEAN.

Your heart skipped when you saw MAX with a few beads separating it from SAM. You glanced up Dean, his green eyes flittering down to where he’d removed his jacket, right sleeve pushed up. 

Dean had always had Sam’s initials tattooed on his forearm. You remember that happened at some point in college, not too long after Sam went missing. The initials right below it were new though, his skin tinged a light pink from where the tattoo was still fresh.

“Is that-”

“Max’s initials? Yeah, looks like it,” he said, a coy smile crossing his face. You held out a finger, Dean humming it was alright to touch. A thick swallow was audible as you traced over the delicate skin, black ink soaked into the creamy canvas of his body.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, Dean’s face falling.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he said as he wiped at your eyes, mascara coming away on the back of your hand. You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“Look what you did you sweet man,” you laughed, a few tears falling free. “Dean, you didn’t have to put his name on your body.”

“Brothers go on the arm. It’s kind of my thing,” he said, your bottom lip wobbling as a swell of emotion hit you. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you croaked out, squeezing your bracelet. “I wish they were with us.”

“Me too,” he said softly, wiping his thumb under your eye, stopping a tear from falling. “Y/N.”

You met his green eyes, thumb stroking your cheek with a barely there touch.

“You understand you’re my girl, right?” You nodded, Dean’s head tilting slightly, eyes scanning down to your lips slowly and back up just as lazily. “So. Am I yours?”

You held a finger to his lips and turned towards the front door, pulling it open, Eric and Sloane both leaned against an SUV.

“We’ll leave in thirty,” you said, pulling the door shut again, finding Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I need ten to fix my makeup. The other twenty is to show you exactly how much you’re mine.”

Dean POV

I stepped outside while Y/N used the bathroom, the brisk air doing wonders for cooling me down after what I could only describe as the most intimate handjob I’d ever received. It was the one thing that stuck out to me about sex with Y/N. Every other partner I’d had, it was about release, pleasure. With Y/N though, it felt different. A good different. Yeah, it was about the pleasure there too but it was…comforting in a way, joined together. 

Once Y/N had let go of her fear of it, intimacy turned out to be one of her favorite things in the world. And it was becoming one of mine too. She just made me feel safe. Whole again.

“Told you she’d cry about the tattoo,” mumbled Eric in my ear, hands clasped behind his back. “Surprised you didn’t get down on one knee yet.”

“We understand what we are to each other,” I said, adjusting the sleeve of my jacket. “The time for that’ll come eventually but I don’t think either one of us is in a rush to get there.”

“Ready!” exclaimed Y/N, rushing outside barefoot, the skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, heels in the other. “How late are we?”

“Oh, only forty five minutes,” said Eric, Y/N jumping in the backseat when he opened the door. “Clutch?”

“I’m the purse tonight,” I chuckled, patting my pocket where her phone, a lipstick and extra hair tie resided. 

“Good. I usually get stuck with it,” said Eric, patting my bottom. “Let’s move it kiddos.”

“Hopefully this party doesn’t suck,” said Y/N beside me as we drove up a long driveway thirty minutes later, lips pursed.

“You hate parties,” Eric chuckled from the passenger seat.

“I hate parties where people ask me to sing at their kid’s sweet sixteen which is like, almost all the time,” she said, my hand reaching over and interlacing our hands together. “Sorry. That sounded bitchy.”

“It sounded like that’s really annoying to have happen all the time,” I said, the car slowing down behind another luxury SUV. “We won’t stay long, just a few hours. I know we have to do this for me.”

“Hey,” she said, voice firm. My eyes flickered to hers in the dark space. “We both have more money than we know what to do with. I’m perfectly happy to waste an evening if it means sending some of that money to a good cause. You getting some good press out of it is a bonus.”

“I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” I asked, heart swelling up as she blushed. “Want to go show off your reformed bad boy, sweetheart?”

“You were never bad,” she said, pecking a kiss on my lips. She grinned goofily and wiped them off with her thumb. “Lipstick.”

“You can take it off if you promise to put it back later,” I said, Y/N’s eyes flirting down to my groin, a wicked smirk on her face. “Down girl.”

“I’ll play with you later,” I said as we stopped. Eric slid out of the passenger seat as I opened the back door. I exited and held out a hand, helping Y/N down in her obnoxious skinny little heels. They looked like a death trap to me but she danced around on stage for three hours in them so if anyone knew how to work them, it was her.

Damn she was sexy in that dress. Almost as sexy as those red flannel pajama pants she wore last night. And that cozy blue sweater on Thursday. Or that-

“Stop staring at her,” said Sloane, pushing on my back so I’d move and she could slip out of the backseat. “You’re like a puppy obsessed with her.”

“Be nice,” Y/N chided, taking a step forward, letting me follow her lead. Eric and Sloane fell in place behind us, the driver staying with the car and driving off towards where the cars were being parked. 

A man in a nice suit opened the front door for us, revealing a grand hall that made Y/N’s house look like a starter home. 

“This guy is loaded,” I whispered in Y/N’s ear as we found ourselves quickly surrounded by people when they caught sight of her. There must have been three hundred people at this thing.

“Here we go,” she mumbled before putting on a big smile, immediately getting asked to be in a selfie with a woman in her twenties.

For the next thirty minutes it felt like we were bombarded, stuck not ten feet past the door in a never ending line of people wanting to talk to Y/N. Yes, some people were football fans but a vast majority were there for Y/N, some nervous, some practically jumping out of their skins.

“Damn dude, you’re beyond lucky,” said some guy to me as his wife took a picture with Y/N. 

“I know I am,” I responded, Y/N giving me a flash of a smile.

“She needs a break,” whispered Eric in my ear. I stepped forward and cut off the next gaggle of women that wanted to approach. 

“Excuse me, I need to steal Y/N for a minute,” I said, taking her arm and leading her down the large open hall.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a servers tray. She knocked it back and I started to scan the room in search of water for her.

“Hi,” said a teenage girl in a light blue dress, approaching slowly. She seemed out of place at the event filled with adults in designer clothes. “I’m Cecilia Monroe, Sebastian Monroe’s daughter.”

Ah she was this guys kid. That made sense. “Nice to meet you. We haven’t met your father yet. We’d like to thank him for his numerous donations to the Wolves charity over the years.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Y/N, the girl blushing, clasping her hand over her wrist in a failed attempt to hide her friendship bracelet. Y/N caught it and smiled. “Did you go to the tour this year?”

“Uh yeah. My dad got VIP tickets,” she said shyly, suddenly straightening her back. “I’ll be on the veranda. Please come find me when you’re through with my dad. It’s very important.”

She scuttled away, Y/N raising an eyebrow.

“I think you have a superfan,” I chuckled, Y/N biting her lip. “You think she’s a problem?”

“No. She’s a fan clearly but I don’t know,” she said, waving for Eric and Sloane to join us from where they stood together by a table of appetizers. 

“You two good?” asked Sloane, their eyes finding the young girl and watching her leave.

“Keep an eye on that girl,” Y/N said, nodding as Cecilia went through open back doors outside. They both readied themselves but Y/N shook her head. “Just watch her. This might be a Denver situation.”

“Denver?” I asked, Eric frowning. 

“Fan in Denver was being abused by her parents. Subtly asked Y/N for help at an event. Smart kid actually,” said Eric. “Sloane and I can try a soft approach with the girl, get a feel for if something is up, relay we can keep her safe .”

“This guy does have a lot of private security,” said Sloane. “If something’s happening, she may feel safer knowing we can protect her in the interim.”

“Let’s go talk to the girl,” said Y/N just as a man in a very nice suit came striding down the hall towards us. “I think that’s our host.”

“Eric, Sloane, go see what’s up. We can fend for ourselves for awhile,” I said. They scuttled away as the man greeted us, holding out a hand and shaking mine firmly.

“Sebastian Monroe,” he said with a pleasant enough smile. “And you two are the power couple my teenage daughter will not stop talking about.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We said hello to her earlier,” said Y//N with a fake smile, staying close to my side when the men looked like he was going to reach for her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking my hand back, the other wrapped around Y/N’s waist. The man only smiled though, like we didn’t need to introduce ourselves. “I’ve heard you’re a Wolves fan.”

“Oh not anymore than anyone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Although a signed jersey by you would certainly go for big bucks at our next charity auction.”

“We’ll have to make that happen for sure,” I said, not enjoying the way his gaze traveled down Y/N’s body. I’d seen it plenty of times tonight but his seemed the most sleazy of all. 

“Speaking of the auction, where are the tables? I’d love to donate,” said Y/N.

“Right side of the veranda, sweetie.” Y/N hummed, giving me a look to join her as soon as I could. “Boy, if I was ten years younger.”

I couldn’t hide my annoyance, Sebastian flashing me a smile. “Oh no. Please go ahead and tell me what you’d do if you were ten years younger.”

“Easy kid. Half the population would bone her if they could,” he said, sipping from the glass in his hand. He took his turn to eye me, a curious look on his face. “You know, I could be inclined to offer another sizeable donation to the Wolves charity for those kids if I could get one of those signed jerseys myself.”

I bit my tongue, both of us aware of the clear message. Refuse and good ol’ Sebastian stops donating a million dollars each year to kids in poverty.

“I’m sure you got one around here somewhere we could fix up,” I said. Sebastian threw an arm over my shoulder and I hide my cringe. 

“Good man. Come on. I got one right in my game room.”

Reader POV

There wasn’t really anything you wanted from the silent auction but you had found a general donation slip at the end of the table and jotted down your agent’s information. You’d looked around for Eric and Sloane or the girl when you finished but hadn’t found any of them which probably wasn’t a good sign. You frowned and walked over the railings edge, looking around the dim yard for any sign of them.

“Bruschetta?” asked one of the servers. 

“No thank you,” you said without looking.

“I must insist,” he said. You rolled your eyes, ready to give it to this guy but something seemed familiar about him. He handed you one on a small napkin as you kept staring. “Take a bite and smile, pretend it’s really good.”

You’d had more than a handful of dangerous fan interactions over the years but this felt…different.

You did as he asked, faking wide eyes at the average at best food. “Who are you?”

“Do not make a scene,” he said as you finished off the food. “I need to get to your bodyguards.”

“Are you trying to protect that girl? Cecilia?” you asked as you played along and took another piece off the tray.

“What? No. I don’t have time for this,” he said, stepping in front of you, your gaze narrowing. “Do not ask questions. Just get me and Max the fuck out of here.”

“Max?” Your heart skipped a beat, the food falling from your hand as you understand where you’d seen him before. “Y-You’re Sam.”

“We’re watched. Get your guards to get us out. Don’t get caught or we’re dead,” he said, turning away and offering a couple nearby food from his tray. You swallowed, instantly putting on your performer’s smile. The one you wore that time you had food poisoning during a concert and were throwing up between songs back in the summer. The crowd had no fucking clue you felt like shit while you gave them the show of their lives.

Time to act your fucking ass off. 

You walked past Sam without a second glance, wishing you could ask him all the questions swirling around in your head. Tell him he was going to be okay. Give him a damn hug and tell him he was safe now.

But you wore that damn smile, all while your blood was boiling. You’d had a lot of dark fantasies about what you’d do to the person that took Max. In recent weeks that’d turned to include Sam too. 

It turned out the monster was a hundred feet away from you inside some fucking mansion.

“Y/N,” said Sloane, appearing through a set of open doors in the house, catching your arm a little roughly. “Stay in public.”

“I need to talk-” She shot daggers at you, shutting you up. 

“Stay in public for the love of god or Eric will kill me,” she said, loosening her grip. “In forty five seconds I need you to be the biggest distraction in the world. Do not go in any rooms with anyone. Your fame will keep you safe but only if there are people around to witness it. Eric has eyes on him. Do not ask questions. Understand?”

“Sam’s on the veranda,” you whispered, Sloane nodding. Cecilia must have told her and Eric about your brothers.

“Go give us a shot to get them out of here.” You nodded and slipped inside, heart thumping away in your throat. Max was with with Eric. Wherever he was, he was with Eric. He was safe. And Sam should have been with Sloane by then. They were both safe.

As long as they got them out of this house and into the damn car before anyone could notice. Before all those private security guards seemingly on the edge of every room could stop them. Your driver was fast though. They just had to get the boys in the car and they’d be alright.

So you needed to be a distraction. A big fucking distraction and buy them time. You froze in the middle of the hallway, watching Sebastian leave a room with Dean by his side, horribly annoyed from the looks of it. An idea sparked in your mind, one you hoped Dean forgave you for someday. 

Yeah, you knew how to cause a big fucking distraction alright.

Dean POV

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Y/N. Normal people could scream loud. A goddamn professional singer that could belt out ballads while running? The whole house went silent at her ear piercing shriek. Even the string orchestra stopped playing. I stared at her as she climbed on top of a table in the center hall, my eyes going wide. “You fucking cheater! You’re a fucking cheater Dean Winchester!”

“Excuse me?” I said, a hundred already with their phones out with even more people piling into the house from the veranda. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” she screamed again. What the fuck was happening? “You’re a cheating bastard! You swore you were different!”

“Y/N, get off the table,” I said gently, very aware of the many phones that were facing us, even some from the freaking staff and private event security. Y/N only backed away when I reached for her, fury in her eyes so visceral it felt like it burned. “Y/N what-”

“I know what you did with her! By the fucking cherry blossoms? Our cherry blossoms? You think you can sleep around on me? I’m the motherfucking Princess of Pop! The world fucking loves me!” 

Something was wrong. Besides the fact I hadn’t cheated, Y/N wasn’t one to scream at people from tabletops. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t on drugs. And we had no fucking cherry blossoms. Except for the fact it was the code to get in her house. 

Trust. She was asking me to fucking trust her right now in front of three hundred people while she tore down my reputation.

If my girl was losing her shit, well damn I was going to play right along.

“Oh get off your high fucking horse!” I shouted, Y/N flinching for a brief moment like it’d stung. “I never made you promises. We aren’t even fucking exclusive!”

“What?!” she shouted back as Sebastian came over, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps if you two could-”

“This bitch is a moron for thinking I’d ever want someone like her. Of course I’m dicking around with you! You really think I want some goodie two shoes like you?”

“Man whore!” she shouted.

“Fucking prude!” I screamed back, praying to god Y/N knew that every word out of my mouth was a lie. “No wonder no one wants to date you. Getting in your pants wasn’t even worth it!”

“Funny since getting in yours just takes a smile. I’m surprised you haven’t contracted every disease known to man you pig!”

“At least I get some! You’re wound up so tight surprised anything can fucking fit up there!” Fuck, I was really going to hate myself in the morning.

Y/N was halfway through screaming back at me when I felt both my phone and Y/N’s go off in my pocket.

YOUR BROTHERS ARE SAFE. HOST SECURITY KNOWS WE GOT THEM OUT. OUR SECURITY & FEDS ON THE WAY. ETA TEN MINUTES. DON’T TRUST LOCAL COPS. CORRUPTED. HOST IS BAD GUY. STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND GUARDS. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO TO STAY IN PUBLIC. 

“What the fuck does brothers safe mean?” I asked, tossing my phone to her. Y/N caught it one handed, her whole body relaxing momentarily before tensing again, her rage suddenly on it’s true target.

Sebastian Monroe.

“Our brothers were here,” she grit out. She ripped off her heels and hopped down onto the floor, stalking over to Sebastian slowly like he was her prey. Her face darkened and I swore she looked ready to tear someone’s throat out. “Our baby brothers were in this fucking house! As your servers! Not of their free will! No. No, they were being watched. Forced. Last I checked, our baby brothers were kidnapped and they didn’t get un-fucking kidnapped.”

She gripped her heel tight in her left hand, right clenched so hard I saw the bone against the skin of her knuckles.

“I don’t care if you weren’t the one that took them. But you kept them and I’m going to fucking destroy you for it,” she growled, approaching him as my brain tried to catch up. 

“Y/N what are-”

“I saw Sam! And he was scared and said they’d kill him if he got caught talking to me. They’re safe now but Sam and Max were forced to live here. By him.” Her head turned towards Sebastian, his own head glancing at his security team. “What the fuck did you do to our brothers?”

It clicked for me what she’d been saying, what the text meant, why Y/N had acted so out of character. So full of hatred. But I barely had a chance to feel that same hatred. 

Because in the blink of an eye, one of Sebastian’s guards grabbed at Y/N and her fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw. He seemed alarmed at her strength and fell back, another guard trying to get their hands on her.

“Get off!” she shouted, kneeing another guy before flipping him on his back. But there were too many of them and I rushed forward, yanking her behind me just as Sebastian got in my face.

He eyed me up and down, smirking at me. “Oh you two just made a big mistake.”

He clasped his hands together loudly as his guards surrounded us, turning his attention to the rest of the party.

“Let’s give the love birds some privacy to sort out their issues,” he chuckled. “And maybe keep an eye on the open bar, hm?”

He spun back around and leaned in close, the stench of cigars and alcohol on his breath. 

“Get your brothers back here or I’ll fuck her up so badly there won’t be anything left to bury.” He gripped my shoulder, too forcefully. “And then I’ll bury you alive in the woods all the while the world will think you got in a drunken accident on the way home. After all you had a very loud and public argument tonight. With the friends I have in certain positions of authority…I can make even you two disappear like nothing.”

Y/N gripped the back of my suit jacket tight, a slight tremble in her hand as she listened to him speak.

“Get those boys back and get those guards back in the next ten minutes or I start cutting off pieces of the damn princess of pop.”

________

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[watatsumiis]

Bitey reader series - part 3

Content: gender neutral reader (heavily implied to be neurodivergent in some way), biting (gentle affectionate biting, not in a kinky way, just as a nontraditional expression of platonic affection)

Part 1

Part 2

Characters: Razor, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Yae Miko, Zhongli

Razor takes it as hostility at first when you give him an affectionate bite on the forearm - it takes him a few moments to process it and figure out what it was supposed to mean based on the vibe you're giving off. He catches on quickly though and is actually rather thrilled that you seem to be speaking in a language he understands - spending so much time around wolves means he's probably familiar with their playful nips and bites, especially from the pups. It makes him happy to know that people do that sometimes too, and with some coaxing he might even feel comfortable enough to return the favour.

Thoma is entirely baffled. He'll question it, ask if you need something to eat or drink, he's just so sweetly confused. He doesn't really like being bitten and kind of sees it as something that has inherently negative connotations, a way that you're nonverbally telling him something is wrong and he needs to fix it. Even if that's not the case, he's still a bit confused and flighty about it and will just silently pull away, offering you a snack or something instead. He might even start carrying around some of your favourite snack foods to discourage you from chewing on him.

Venti certainly knows a thing or two about non-traditional displays of affection. He's probably super okay with it and may even return the favour if the mood strikes (watch out for those little fangies of his though!). He thinks it's super sweet and cute and is just happy you feel comfortable enough around him to show affection in a way that may be seen as a little 'strange'. He probably gets a little giggly over it and jokes that he must taste really good for you to want to nibble on him all the time.

Xiao is ... mildly irritated, at first. He'll draw away sharply and give you this long, searching look as he struggles to wrap his head around what he did wrong to make you want to bite him. Though, growing up around non-humans means he's not exactly unfamiliar with the concept of strange ways of showing affection, he's grown so used to people being afraid to lay a hand on him that he's just entirely lost and not sure how to act. It's a little hypocritical, considering the fact that he's been known to butt his horns against those that he likes, preen at their hair with his fingers, or even chew on their clothing on occasion. If you do it consistently enough, he'll eventually just... settle. He likes you, and doesn't want to hurt you by lashing out, and he supposes it isn't that bad.

Yae Miko, despite her elegant and put-together facade, still has some foxlike instincts buried deep down. If you bite her, she'll bite you back, twice as hard, just as a routine disciplinary act. She'll act all cutesy and smile about it, asking you what's wrong when you get upset and telling you that you shouldn't do these things if you aren't going to be prepared for the consequences. If she's busy or you're in public, however, she'll wordlessly redirect you onto something else without even looking, like you're a naughty kit or something like that. If she could pick you up by the scruff of the neck and put you at arm's length when you get all bitey, she probably would (mostly just to see your distraught reaction).

Zhongli also has some experience with the instinctual urge to bite others (it's a disciplinary thing for his species), he's had others display affection to him in this way, so it doesn't really phase him. He'll just let you take his hand and chew on it lightly so long as it's not too distracting or inconvenient (he's ambidextrous, so continuing paperwork is no issue). Though there's always a non-zero chance that you doing this will remind him of some old fable he heard somewhere about werewolves or vampires and send him into this big long ramble (that can be a good or bad thing depending on your attention span and ability to cope with his nattering). Sometimes it's like he's barely even noticed you've done it at all.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 54

Masterlist

Chapter 53

"I'm so happy to have you here again, Aemma," you say, more tears spilling out as you continue to embrace your daughter. Geralt and Jaskier had run off to check to see how things were back in Loc Muinne, now that things had become utter chaos with the arrival of Nilfgaard's armies.

"I'm so happy to see you as well, mother," Aemma says, moving closer to you. You nuzzle her head, feeling her soft hair, but taking notice of its length, "your hair is a lot shorter than last I saw this," you joke, placing a loose strand behind her ears. "It has been 16 years," Aemma jokes, making you chuckle in response. "Yes it has," you nod, placing a kiss on her brow, "We have so much to talk about. So much to catch up on. I don't even know where to start."

Aemma thought about it. There was so much to talk about. Now that her mother was here, Aemma could now finally ask about the truth of her parents' relationship. Though, Aemma already had a good idea at this point that it was not as good or romanticized as her father had made it out to be. What if her mother wasn't ready to talk about those things yet, especially now the two of you were reunited, it might sour such a tremendous moment.

Aemma decided in her mind to save those questions for a little later. She's waited this long, she can wait a little longer. There were other things she wanted to ask and get to know her mother a little better.

"Maybe...we could talk about your adventures on the Continent," Aemma suggests. "We could," you nod in agreement, "Or we could talk about what your life has been like back in Westeros while I was gone."

Aemma felt her mouth fall agape at the suggestion for a brief moment, "Well uh..."

Sounds of commotion in Loc Muinne got your attention, interrupting the conversation. You pull Aemma instinctively as if to protect her. "Maybe this may not be the best place to talk about these things," you say. "We should get out of here," Aemma suggests, "We can regroup back to Vergen." "Vergen?" "I'll explain on the way there," Aemma assures, "but we should go find Geralt and Jaskier first." 

"What have you been up to this whole time, little love?" you inquire in a joking matter as you start the trek. You didn't too far as the moment you and Aemma started walking, a burly looking man stepped in the way of your path. Eyes wide, Aemma got in front of you, acted like she was fixing to draw a sword, but realized she didn't have one. "Run mother!" she insists.

"Hold!" the witcher Letho reaches out, "be at ease, princess. I have no wish to harm you. Not this time anyway." "This time?" you give Letho a hard look, which soften a bit, when you got a good look at him, "wait a minute, have...have we met each other somewhere before?" "Mother?" "It's a long story," Letho says, "go ask Geralt, he'll know more. I have more pressing things to say to the princess. And to show I mean no ill-will, I come bearing gifts."

Letho pulled out a sheathed sword along with a silver dagger and a silver medallion of a three-headed dragon. "Those are my things," Aemma realized, "Radovid confiscated them." "I managed to swipe them before he and his soldiers fled Loc Muinne," Letho explains, "it's a dangerous thing, after all, for a woman to travel this world alone." Aemma gave Letho an incredulous look but accepted his peace offering all the same. She took the dagger and gave it to you, "It's my dagger," you recognize, "I...I left this back in the Red Keep that night I..." you stop yourself, looking at your daughter. "We can explain this later," Aemma assures, giving one look at the witcher, "I'll hear what you have to say." "Aemma, are you sure?" "I am," Aemma nods, "I'll be alright, mother, I can handle myself. Go find Geralt and Jaskier."

You nod, trusting your daughter and go to find the two men.

Now it was just Aemma and Letho, "Alright," Aemma crosses her arms, giving the witcher a stern look, "talk. Don't take too long. After everything you've put me through, you have given me no other reason to even let you speak to me." "It was never my intention to harm you, or even to put you in harm's way," Letho begins his explanation, "but before I go any further, a drink is first warranted," he pulls out a flask, "Care for some vodka?" Aemma looked at the flask and gave Letho an incredulous look, "it's not poisoned," the witcher assures taking a swig as proof. "I know witchers are immune to poisons," Aemma deadpans, "you taking the first drink means shit to me." "Do you really believe I would resort to such cowardly measures if I wanted to kill you?" "I don't really know. I don't know you all that well, not as well as Geralt knows you apparently." "Fair enough. More for me then," Letho shrugs, taking another swig.

"Our first encounter, at La Valette castle," Aemma says, "before I passed out and you abducted me, I remember you saying it had become personal." "You were never my primary target," Letho nods, "before your arrival, the original plan I made with the Scoia'tel was to assassinate Foltest and for me to escape unscathed. Scouts spotted you in the mote, climbing into the castle. When word reached Iorveth, there was a slight change in plans. To kill the king...and to capture you afterwards so as to turn you hostage."

"I remember the Scoia'tel wanted justice for my father's wrongdoings against them," Aemma nods, "but you told me back in Flotsam that they weren't the only ones seeking justice. What had my father done to you that made you want to seek justice against him?" "It wasn't anything he'd done directly," Letho says in a neutral tone. The witcher then proceeded to pull something out of his pocket. Aemma flinched a bit, expecting it to be a trap. 

It was a piece of parchment. Letho hands to Aemma, who unrolls it.

It was a wanted sign for Geralt. Below the picture, the description reads as follows: Wanted. The White Wolf. Also known as Geralt of Rivia. For the crime of kidnapping an important member of the royal family of Westeros, and attempted regicide.  10,000 dragons for the witcher's head as well as his silver wolf medallion.   

                                                -by order of Prince Daemon Targaryen

Aemma looked to Letho, "so is this what this is about? Justice for Geralt? Strange way of protecting your fellow witcher after you went out of your way to frame him for YOUR kingslaying?"

"Hardly," Letho answers, "this was before I ever came across Geralt during my time on the Path. No...the justice I was seeking for someone close to me who became a victim of your father's crusade against the White Wolf." "...who was this person?" Aemma asks.

"A witcher, who went by the name of Bern, from the School of the Cat. We ran into each other multiple times on the Path. Annoying prick at times, but I came to see him as something of a brother. When the Rogue Prince put out a hit on Geralt, sent out these flyers to the Continent, bounty hunters, mercenaries and any two-bit assassin for hire came out from every corner to search for the White Wolf." "And Bern was caught in the crossfires," Aemma realized. "It was 14 years ago," Letho nods, "I came across Bern one final time. We were planning to travel together for a little while as we had done each time we crossed paths. Bern went behind some bushes, wanting to relieve himself before starting our journey. It took longer then I was expecting. I went to check up on him...only to find his body laying on the ground in the bushes. His head was missing...as was his medallion."

Aemma's eyes widen a bit, realizing what had happened. "I tracked the men that did this to him," Letho continues, "there were three of them. Mercenaries- brothers they were- I managed to kill one of them in my grief filled raged, but the other two escaped, Bern's head in their sack. I noticed one of them had white dye stained on their hands. The one I killed had that wanted flyer in his pocket, and that was how I knew why they went after Bern. My guess is they sought to kill Bern, thinking he was the witcher your father wanted, but didn't realize their mistake until afterwards, to which they must've brought Bern's head to your father, as evidence that they killed the witcher he was looking for, dying his hair white so as trick the Rogue Prince out of the reward. I went back to burn Bern's body. I never mourned anyone as much as I mourned him."

There was an eerie silence the moment Letho finished his story. Aemma never knew her father had posted wanted flyers for Geralt, never knew he sought to it that the witcher would never take another breath again. All because he and her mother were the ones who got away.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Aemma says with sincerity, "I'm sorry your friend became a victim of my father's wrath. But did you really think this plan would've worked? What if my father came with his dragon? That was a certainty, would you've been able to deal with that if it came to it?" "....to be honest, I knew this plan was doomed from the start," Letho admits, "it was Iorveth's idea, he was certain the Scoia'tel and myself could take certain precautions, factoring in the possibility of fighting a dragon. But there were still flaws in this plans from the moment of its inception. Besides...even if it did work somehow, killing Daemon Targaryen would not have brought back Bern, nor would it have brought back the Scoia'tel his dragon murdered. It would not have brought me anything other than the satisfaction of revenge, but who knows how long that would have lasted."

"So what now?" Aemma slightly sneers, "do you expect me to forgive you and forget everything you've done to me?" "Not at all," Letho assures, "I have no illusions of forgiveness. I'm a hard-shelled bastard who refused to pass up on an opportunity, regardless of how ill-fated it was. I won't apologize for it; however, princess, if you wish to take me on in a fair fight, have your own course of vengeance for the wrongs I've done you, I won't begrudge you this. Should you get to the point where you deliver the final blow, I won't stop you."

Aemma stared at Letho, actually contemplating his offer to let her take vengeance on him. Despite the shit he put her through, she didn't really consider Letho her enemy. Additionally, even if she did want to fight him, there was a small chance he could defeat her...okay maybe more than a small chance given he was a witcher and had a lot more fighting experience. Not to mention Aemma had only just reunited with her mother; if she were to die right here, it would have been all for naught.

So, Aemma gives Letho her answer, "I won't fight you," she says, "not today anyway...maybe not anytime in the future either. It won't do any good, it won't erase the past. I don't begrudge you the feelings you hold for my father. I'll let you go, but this doesn't change anything between us." "I wouldn't hope so," Letho shrugs, looking ahead as if he sensed something, "you should go. Be with your mother. And if you ever return to the rest of your family, do be sure to give your father my regards."

Right on cue, you, Geralt, and Jaskier show up. Letho turns his gaze to Geralt, who gives an understanding nod in response. "Farewell, princess" Letho says to Aemma, before turning to walk away, "may our paths never cross again."

"Aemma!" you call out, rushing over to your daughter's side, you joined by Jaskier and Geralt. "What did he want?" Geralt asks her. "He...we had come to an understanding," Was all Aemma could say.

"Gwynbleidd!" the group hear Iorveth's voice. Accompanying the elf was Triss, whom had blood dripping from one corner of her mouth and a few bruises here and there. "Triss! You're alright!" Aemma exclaims, running over to Tris, "did they hurt you?" "Not too much," Triss assures, "Letho saved me from the Nilfgaardians. I'll be alright aside from a few scratches..." Tris turned to see you standing there, "Wha...(y/n)!"  "Triss!" you say back, ready for impact as the sorceress ran up and pulled you in for a tight embrace. "How is this even possible?" Triss asks with joy and disbelief. "I had help from a mutual acquaintance of ours," you explain.

You look over to see Iorveth was still present, "I know you," you say, frown on your face as you remembered that last encounter all too well, "one eye less then last I saw you, but I recognize that scowl on your face." "I have no regrets of that particular encounter, Lady Lark," Iorveth says, crossing his arms, "only thing I do regret was not being able to sever the head of your daughter's father." "Hmmm...don't blame you for that," you mutter in a tone no one else could hear.

"What will you do now?" Geralt questions the elf. "...I must regroup with the rest of the Scoia'tel," was Iorveth's answer, "this is where we part ways. Va fail, Gwynbleidd, Marigold, Silverlark...Lady Lark."

Iorveth walked away. And it was right at this moment two men showed up. One you didn't know, but the other you recognized right away. "Princess Aemma!" Criston calls out, only to stop in his tracks, along with Ivan, when he saw what he was possibly up against. His own eyes widen the moment he saw you, recognizing you instantly. "Hello Ser Criston," you greet, "it's been a good while." "You...Lady Lark," Criston says, "How is this possible?" "I've been getting that a lot recently," you joke, "how fares the rest of the Kingsguard? How fares Princess Rhaenyra?" 

Before Criston could even form an acceptable answer to that question, a dragon's roar was heard. You flinch instinctively, trying not to let that particular trigger get to you, but Aemma could see how much it upset you. Aemma and the others look up to see Vhagar flying overhead. "Don't worry, mother," your daughter tries to assure you, "it's just Vhagar." "I find it a tad bit disturbing you can actually say that, given the size of that particular beast," Jaskier deadpans.

Cirillia then flew overhead, calling out to her rider and making a landing. Geralt was about to draw his sword, but Aemma stopped him, "no, don't. She won't harm us," she assures. Aemma approaches the dragon, who lowered her head as Aemma ran over to hug the dragon's snout. "Oh, Cirillia, how I have missed you so," Aemma says, "I bet you missed me too." Cirillia made a low rumble in response. "That's Cirillia?" you ask with wide eyes, "my goodness she has grown quite a lot." "You don't...remember riding her before? When you escaped the Wild Hunt with Ciri?" Aemma asks with a frown. "I don't really remember much of my time with the Hunt," you admit, "just what I remembered before. I certainly remember Cirillia being the size of a small dog when last I saw her. She wasn't even big enough to be saddled yet at that time." 

Cirillia extended her neck towards you, making almost purring sounds as you place a hand on her snout. "I'm glad you remember me, old girl," you say with a smile, "even the circumstances are less than ideal." "She seems to like you," Jaskier states. "I would hope so, her rider is my daughter after all," you joke. Cirillia then nudged her nose against your brother. "Whoa now," Jaskier says in response, "let's not get too carried away with the affection. At least not before I buy you a dinner first."

Aemma looked over and noticed a rucksack hanging over the side of Cirillia's saddle, something she didn't see last time she saw the she-dragon in her vision. Aemma wondered over to the saddle and checked the sack. "What is it?" you inquire of your daughter. Aemma reached into the sack, and pulled out a large pink egg. "Is...is that what I think it is?" Jaskier asks, "It's...it's a-" "A dragon's egg," Aemma says with a wide smile, peeking into the sack once more, "there's two more eggs in here. It's Cirillia's first clutch." 

Cirillia made a low rumble in response. "So Cirillia is a mummy now. Good to know," Jaskier says, just going with it. Geralt said nothing, making a small smile. Ivan and Criston stood at the side, feeling like intrusive spectators at this interaction.

For Ivan, the awkwardness was somewhat mitigated from the half-elf reeling over the conversation he had with Iorveth prior to the elf's departure from Loc Muinne. When Geralt went to confront Letho.

-----------flashback---------------

Ivan stood where he was, keeping an eye left and right for any signs of knights from the Order of the Flaming Rose. He kept his headband on at all times, knowing their ilk was not fond of non-humans, especially those who were mixed with human blood.

Iorveth, who had made certain that Triss was able to stand on her own then turned and walked over to Ivan, feeling like he needed to say some things to the boy that he sired. There was no telling, after all, if they would ever cross paths again after this, especially if Ivan was dead set on remaining loyal to his post as a knight of the Kingsguard.

"You came back," the older elf states matter-of-factually. "I didn't come back for you, if that's what you're getting at," Ivan sneers, refusing to even look at the elf.

"I know you are angry at me," Iorveth says, "I understand. You blame me for the troubles that befell you...and your mother. Perhaps I should've made more of an effort to find the both of you when you escaped Flotsam. I...I was more focused on my own crusade for vengeance. I can't make up for the struggles you faced as a child. But...there is something you should know." "Whatever it is, I DON'T want to hear it," Ivan insists.

"Your mother...was not as human as you may have thought her to be," Iorveth blurts out, causing Ivan to turn to face his father. "I...I don't follow." "Your mother was in'heide, as you are,' Iorveth explains, "half-elf." "But...she didn't have the pointed ears as I do." "Her own mother had her ears rounded when she was a babe in the cradle," Iorveth tells him, "the points clipped off so as she could pass as a dh'oine. I saw the faint scars on her ears when I first met her. I knew the moment I saw them. She admitted that life was a little easier because of that, but she long hated her own mother for making such decisions for her when she had no say in the matter." Ivan found himself reaching for his ears, feeling his headband for the points. He recalled times in his childhood when his mother told him to be proud of his ears, of his elven heritage,  no matter what anyone else says. Although, that tune had changed somewhat when they first moved to King's Landing.

"Do you honestly believe this will change anything between us?" Ivan asks in a scoffing manner to his father. "I don't expect anything," Iorveth says matter-of-factually, "I only wanted you to know the truth. I also want you to know of your true heritage, that you are more elf than human, that you are more likely to live longer than most half-elves. It is only a matter of time before the rest of your supposed comrades in the Kingsguard begin to notice as the decades pass." "Ser Criston knows," Ivan tries to persuade, "nothing has changed. He accepts me as I am." "As he?" Iorveth points back, "or has he merely decided to keep that information to himself until it will benefit him in some way? You cannot trust these people, boy. Sooner or later they will turn against you. It will only be a matter of time."

----------end of flashback----------

In the present, Cirillia turned her gaze to the opposite, almost like she sensed someone was approaching.

"Aemma?" she hears her name called out by a familiar voice.

You saw the way Geralt tensed at the voice. You hoped to the gods it wasn't going to be a repeat of that night in the Red Keep.

Walking around Cirillia, you spot a young man with long blonde hair with sharp cheekbones and an eye patch. You could see he was a Targaryen as Aemma is. You started to wonder...was this... "Prince Aegon? Is that you?" you approach the young prince with intrigue, him giving you a confused look. "You've really grown since I last I saw you. You're...a lot taller than I would've expected. A little slimmer too."

Aemond took a look at you and towards Aemma before turning his gaze back to you. "Are you the Lady of Larks? Aemma's mother?" "Aemond!" Aemma calls out, coming to your side. You were now confused, which Aemond took notice of. "You must have me confused for my older brother," he provides for an explanation. "Mother, this...this is Aemond. He's the king's second born son. You never met him, he was born after you left. Aemond...this is my mother, the Lady of Larks. The one I was searching the Continent for. I told you she was alive." 

Aemond looked between the two of you, "it appears so." The prince wasn't sure what to do in this situation, but you were a lady, and he figured you should be addressed as such, "it is...a pleasure to meet you, my Lady. My cousin has spoken much of you since we were children," he takes your hand and places a chaste kiss to it as a gentleman would. "Oh, well aren't you the sensible gentleman," you respond flattered, "it is nice to meet you as well, Prince Aemond."

"Aemond look," Aemma shows her cousin the egg, "it's Cirillia's. It's her first clutch. She laid three eggs." Cirillia made a low rumble in response, almost as if she were proud of this accomplishment. "Where...where's the ashen haired woman? Ciri?"

"Ciri?" Geralt's ears perked up at that name, "you saw Ciri? Where is she?" "She...she was here," Aemma turns around looking for the woman in question. "I saw her walk through a portal right before we were reunited," you admit, "Ciri must've left before the Wild Hunt could catch up with her."

"Ciri...she was here," Geralt says as the realization sank in that he had come so close to being with Ciri again. So close and yet so far.

"OH! I almost forgot," Triss says as she pulls out a small silk wrapped package and handed it to Aemma, "looks like I was able to give this to you just in time." "What is it?" Aemma asks, unwrapping the package to reveal a necklace. "I was making that for you when we arrived in Flotsam," the sorceress explains, "happy birthday, Aemma."

"It's...it's my nameday!" Aemma realized, "mother, today it's my nameday. I mean...Aemond, it's our nameday. Today is our nameday." "I'm sorry, 'our'?" Jaskier raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I need to explain," Aemma realizes, "Aemond was born on my fourth nameday. So, we share a nameday."

"Oh," Triss says, "I uh, I'm sorry, Aemond, but I didn't make anything for you. I can though if you want, it's not trouble, really-" "There is...no need for that," Aemond assures. "But Aemond, we should still do something," Aemma insists, "it's your day too. We need...we need to do something. We need...we need a cake! A honey cake, like the one Aunt Alicent had the cooks make for us on our nameday. We need, like a party, along with the cake. We should celebrate!" 

"Then by all means, let's celebrate!" Jaskier says back, as excited for this as his niece is.  "With all due respect, princess, this may not exactly be the best time," Criston points out, gesturing towards the soldiers in black armor making their into Loc Muinne. "That's Nilfgaard's army," you realize, "I thought His Imperial Majesty would've grown tired of warring with the Northern realms after all this time."

"I may have an idea of what we can do," Geralt suggests.

--------------Vergen: Main Hall--------------

"One, two, three, four!" Jaskier directs the band as he tunes his lute and begins the jig to celebrate Aemma and Aemond's birthday.

The moment the party made it back to Vergen, the dwarf Zoltan had made it back in time to greet them. Zoltan was quite ecstatic to see you again, insisting he give you a hug after all this time, to which you happily oblige.

The moment you mentioned it was Aemma's birthday, Zoltan didn't hesitate to have the alderman as well as his brethren start organizing the hall to celebrate this momentous occasion (he was a little less than ecstatic hearing it was also Aemond's birthday, but obliged nonetheless from seeing how excited Aemma was to celebrate with her cousin).

There was food and dancing and music, with you and Jaskier singing a duet, and you singing a solo that everyone fell in love with at the sound of your angelic voice.

Imagine the Lady of Larks singing this:

Geralt had a small smile on his face as he watched you sing, remembering the vow you once made on the road to Nilfgaard, how you would not sing a single note until you were reunited with your daughter once again, no matter how long it would take. By the reaction of your brother and everyone around you, it appears you had made good on that promise.

Aemma danced with the part guests as her uncle sang another jig. Aemond stood at the table, not really wanting to participate. He would've kept it that way but a dwarf woman came up to him and asked for a dance. Aemond was a little taken aback by the she-dwarf's facial hair, but he was a prince, and every woman is an image of the Mother to be spoken of with reverence. He reluctantly accepted and allowed the dwarf woman to guide him to the dance floor so as to fulfill her request.

Aemma looked over, smiling from seeing her cousin was finally properly participating in the festivities. Aemond looked towards Aemma, finding himself wishing he was dancing with her instead.

The young prince got his wish during the next song. "I'm glad you're here, Aemond," Aemma admits, "I...I know we left things at a shaky place, but I'm glad you came back. I am also grateful that you haven't tried to drag me back to King's Landing this time." Aemond said nothing, as all he could think about when he ran into Ciri, how she was adamant about finding Aemma, rescuing her from people who only wished to exploit his cousin for personal gain. "I'm glad we could do this again," he admits, "we used to have wonderful times such as this on our nameday." "Remember when the lords used to think we were the ones betrothed to each other?" Aemma asks, "from the way we sat next to each other on our nameday? The parties had to be smaller after that to lessen the confusion. At least we still had cake." Aemond made an amused smile, knowing how much Aemma loved her nameday cake on those special days.

"Have you a chance to speak to your mother?" Aemond asks, "About the things you wanted?"

Aemma made wide eyes, realizing she hadn't had the chance yet. "Oh, Aemond, you're right!" She looks around frantically, "where is my mother?"

"Uncle!" Aemma calls out to Jaskier, who was chatting with several of the dwarves. "Aemma?" "Where is my mother?" "Well, she must've stepped out for a bit," Jaskier provides for an answer, though the way he said it suggested he was hiding something, "I'm sure, she'll be back, Aemma, you may want to wait a bit." "Where is she?" Aemma asks again. "I saw her go up those stairs," Jaskier answers, "Aemma, wait, you really should reconsider, I wouldn't go up there-"

Aemma foolishly ignores her uncle and runs up the stairs, presumably to where her mother was.

She runs into a closed door, "Mother?" "Aemma, you really shouldn't-" Before Jaskier could stop her, Aemma opens the door wide, "mother, I need- Ahh! oh my gods!"

Aemma had walked in on you...and Geralt. The two of you barely having any of your clothes on, Geralt laying on the bed, and you riding the witcher like a stallion.

Cue the Witcher medieval porn music:

"Aemma!"

"Sorry!" Aemma slams the door shut, face hot as an oven.

"...I tried to warn you," Jaskier deadpans. "What happened? I heard screaming!" Aemond runs up the stairs, seeing the look on his cousin's face. "Aemma, what happened?" "Nothing happened!" Aemma insists, running back down the stairs as humanly possible.

Aemond gives Jaskier a confused frown, "the Lady of Larks...had some catching up to do," was all Jaskier had for an explanation.

Chapter 54.5

[slightlystupidhun]

Clip Your Wings

WELL!! You all decided you wanted some Angel angst!! The runner up in the poll was going to be who I killed off so please enjoy! (Also I didn’t proofread because it made me sad)

Warning: Angst, Violence, Character Death, Major Character injury, owie my heart

Summary: The boys go out on a mission and Tank plays body guard. However the night doesn’t quite go to plan.

Angel had been pacing back and forth for about 30 minutes on a rant about who was better at games between Ash and Milo. Tank had watched them practically burn a hole in the rug with how much they had been pacing.

It was always funny, to Tank at least, whenever Angel would get into these fits. It would always be so hard to pull them out of it until they got a clear answer.

“Eh I think you should conclude that Milo is a bit worse than Ash. He’s okay but if you put him in a halo game, Ash has got him beat easily.” Tank yawned into their hand. “Not to mention if you put them in a horror game together.”

Angels eyes lit up with excitement. They had never thought of doing that but knew that it would be entertaining nevertheless. They walked over to the large leather couch and plopped down next to Tank.

“You really think we could make that happen?” Angels eyes beamed with anticipation. No doubt they were already scheming what to do next.

“I’m sure if he lost a bet we could.” Tank nodded and shrugged it away.

The night hadn’t been too bad this far. David, Ash, Cristian and Milo had gone out on a gig to help the department with some underground cult or something. DUMP needed brawn and the pay they provided was too good to pass up.

Since Tank was currently out of commission due to working the past two nights and refusing to tell Sam about a “small” ankle injury, David refused to let them go and instead had them stay with Angel.

Speaking of the Devil, or rather, Angel, they were now inserting a movie, it was Bambi. They loved the classic colors of the film and the adorable little cartoon animals.

~~~~~~~~

The small group of shifters blended in well with the department staff as they breached the cultist base. They walked through the cold cement building, it was only lit up by candlelight.

They soon arrived to a large wenge door, it was covered in scratches and red paint, making out faint markings of what looked to be a skull on a dagger. They slowly opened the large door to reveal the cult leader, who spun around in his chair in all evil villain fashion.

“Ah welcome, welcome friends.” He smiled at them menacingly.

“Blake. It’s over.” Sweetheart walked into the room, past the wolves.

“Maybe it’s over for now. But, not for me.” He let out a dark chuckle, glancing over to David. “You see I have been working day in and day out to…” he sighed. “Well if doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sure you wouldn’t care about me anyway.” He looked down, obviously trying to manipulate them. Then he smiled and made direct eye contact with David again. “But you do care for your precious Angel right?”

“Leave them be Blake, stop your short sighted tricks. It’s over.” Sweetheart said firmly grabbing their cuffs.

“Lets see if I remember your address… and if I don’t… maybe my shade will. He can clip your Angels wings”

~~~~~~~~

As the movie came up to the part (angels favorite part) where the animals find their “love” interests, Angel making plenty jokes about shifters doing the same thing, they heard a knock on the door.

It wasn’t a knock. It was banging. Loud banging.

That was when Tank got a call from David and immediately answered, already heading to stand between Angel and the door.

“Tank?” His voice called out frantically.

“Dav- what’s going on?” They asked, brows furrowing together and face scrunching up. They were preparing to shift if they needed.

“The cult they...” He took a sharp breath. “A shade, please get to somewhere safe and-“

Before he could finish Tank grabbed Angels wrist and took them down to the basement. Tank handed Angel the gun they always kept on them, in case they needed to defend themself.

“What’s going on Tank?” Angel said beginning to get scared.

“Anything comes down here you point and shoot.” They adjusted angels pose. “Just like this.”

“Tank, you’re scaring me… what’s going on?”

“A shade is here and I need to keep you safe.”

“What about you?” Angel asked hands shaking.

“I’ll hold him off until David gets here. I need you to stay here. Do not move from this spot okay?” Tank patted Angels shoulder and handed them their phone, Tanks screen lighting up with a text from Sam. “The code is 4321. Use it to call David if… just don’t move unless it’s to run away.”

With that Tank tan up the stairs, Angel could hear them locking the basement door and Tank shifting. The sound of wood splintering let them know that the front door was broken open. The large oak door seemed unbreakable to them, they could hardly believe it splintered, let alone broke at all.

They heard an ugly hissing sound, it must have been the shade. Then they could hear the sounds of fighting and growling. Angel had heard stories of shades from David. Tank really needed to be cautious… one slip up and they could-

Their thoughts were cut off by the sound of a table breaking and Tank yelping. They could hear the shifter take a large bite from the shade and another scream. Wait why did it sound like there were two shades? Angel swore only one was there a second ago.

They frantically texted Davey to let him know of what was happening.

Tank (Angel): They locked me in the basement. Tanks fighting two shades I think!! Davey please hurry!!

Davey: I’m on my way Angel hold on!

Sam: Hey Darlin how is your night going?

Darlin (Angel): Sam! A shade broke in, now there are two, Tank locked me in the basement and they are fighting them. It sounds bad.

Sam: I’m coming.

There were so many sounds happening. The sounds of Tanks phone flooding. The sound of wood splintering, glass shattering, a wolf yelping, shades screaming. It was all so overwhelming and suffocating. Luckily, the sound was getting quieter. Tank must have gone against one shade and won, but then they heard Tank yelp, a yelp similar to the one they let out when they rolled their ankle. Shit! They broke their ankle!!!

Angel tried to run up the stairs to go help but the door was locked and wouldn’t budge. The cold golden door knob now becoming their worst energy.

The sounds continued and the yelps got quieter, that was until it fell silent. Too silent.

Angel couldn’t tell how long it had been silent for. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? The silence was more deafening than anything and they now longed for the crashing and screaming and banging because that meant someone was still alive.

They sat against the door silently sobbing and curling up into a small ball. That was until the intense rush of footsteps ran into the house.

The basement door was very close to the front door. You only needed to take a left down the hallway. Footsteps, fast, and loud echoed throughout the hallway but Angel couldn’t stop themself from crying. The door suddenly flung open and Angel fell through to the floor, falling onto a familiar pair of hiking boots. It was David.

He gently picked them up and held them close to him. Cradling them and giving them soft kisses trying to comfort them. That was until Asher’s voice could be heard yelling from the kitchen.

“DAVID! DAVID HELP!” Asher sounded frantic and afraid. David stood up and ran over to Ash, fearing that his friend was being attacked. Angel followed behind David rushing through the hall.

Both of them froze upon arriving to the kitchen. There under Asher’s hand was Tank, a quickly fading Tank. Next to them, two dead shades. Their body was covered in blood and scratches and their ankle was popped out of place. Their face was becoming sickeningly pale and their lips were losing all color.

They smiled at Angle and gave them a sad nod.

“I won…” they said weakly coughing out.

“Hang on Tank! Sam is going to be here any minute! Please!” Angel said dropping to their knees at the shifters side. “You idiot! You should have run away! You shouldn’t have fought them… not for me!” They cried out loud.

“Hey…” Tank coughed. “I’d do anything to protect my Alpha.” They smiled softly.

David finally found his feet and moved to sit next to them. He tried to use his magic to heal them, he had taken a few classes after the last incident, but it didn’t work.

“Tank hold on please.” David said squeezing their hand.

“Davi…d T…Tell Sam… I love him… te…tell him he… he is the best… thing to…” their words got quieter and quieter and they began closing their eyes. David shook them, slightly slapping their cheeks.

“Hey! HEY! No no no no no You stay awake! You stay awake now!” David pleaded with Tank.

“You survived through all of this! You don’t get to die!” Angel cried out loud clutching Tanks hand.

“T…thanks for… for being… my family.” Tank smiled.

“Stop no final fair-wells! You don’t get to do that.” Angel patted their face. “You are gonna live! You and Sam are gonna get married, and I am going to force you to dress up, even though you will hate it.” They squeezed Tanks face and brought their forehead to touch Tanks cold skin. “Sam will look so dashing and smile at you like how he always does! You two will live a long happy life, and you will grow old, and be the godparent of any kid David and I adopt, if we do that.”

Tank chuckled which trailed off into a small fit of coughs. They felt so cold, so scared. They knew that it would happen sooner or later but god how they wished it wouldn’t be now. They wanted to live that life with Sam. To explore their new friendship with Angel. They wanted to be a part of the pack, to be a part of something that didn’t just involve fighting. They wanted to live.

But life was cruel. They learned that day one. They got colder and their eyes grew heavier. It was happening it was always gonna happen.

Angel remained in their spot. Their forehead pushed against Tanks.“Please! I need you to be here! You can’t die you can’t-“

“Darlin?” Sam walked in. The pit in his stomach grew and he felt physically ill. He immediately got down and tried to heal them but nothing seemed to work. They squeezed his hand and slightly shook their head.

They had talked about this, Tank wanted to live their natural life. They wanted to die when it happened. They didn’t want to be turned.

“Darin you know I gotta ask you one more time. Do you.. do you want me to.” He began to choke on his tears.

“Tank please…” Angel said sobbing out loud.

“Hey… I’m su..posed to… be th.. one cryn…” they looked back at Sam and shook their head. Denying his final offer. He solemnly nodded and lifted their head to rest on his lap. He ran his fingers through his mates hair as they drifted of to an eternal rest. “I… luv… y’all …” was the last thing they told the room before finally succumbing to their injuries.

Their lifeless body laid on the floor, in their mates arms, hands holding their Alphas and their best friends. Their family, Milo, Cristian, and Asher, stood in the corner of the room, holding one another.

This day would be one that broke Angel. They truly loved keeping company and being the friend of Tank. Watching tanks bored expressions during pack meetings always brightened their day. When they went to the first meeting without Tank… or Sam. They had to excuse themself to cry.

They moved out of the previous home they built with David and into a new one closer to the woods. They would go to sleep and still feel the cold wall of the basement, and hear the screaming and crashing and banging of their home.

They would hear tank screaming for help before dying in their hands, being suffocated by the loss. By the fact that they couldn’t do anything.

And in the end Angel never got over that feeling. Tank made them feel like they were strong. That it didn’t matter that they were unempowered. However, this situation reminded them of one thing. They were powerless. They were human.

[fantasiacafecat]

Most of my favorite skyrim modded followers and what I think what type of khajiit variant and furstock they'd be.

I picked a domestic cat breed and a wild cat breed for all of them. The descriptions won't have that much in it. It's more the looks I'm basing off on every character. I also picked a quad-ped and biped for each character too.

Inigo: Blue tiger/blue tabby. I mean since he's already a khajiit you can't really say you see him as anything else. But if he wasn't blue I think he'd be a white tiger variant and an American short hair. I think he would still be a Suthay and for the quad-ped he'd be a pahmar

Lucien Flavius: Orange and white tabby munchkin mix cat / Arabian sand cat.

Sometimes he reminds me of my cat named Mellow when she was a kitten honestly. I picked the Sand cat only because it's small and basically blonde.

I definitely think he'd be an alfiq mainly because I read something about them being more magically strong. I also think he'd be a Tojay or Suthay-raht.

Kaidan: Brown siberian cat/ Panther.

I picked what I thought was the most intimidating cats at the top of my and mind and picked these two. I would have given Kaidan the Maine Coone but they aren't intimidating at all and are one of the most gentle cats to have.

Definitely gives Cathay-raht or Senche-raht vibes.

Auri: Abynissian/ Cinnamon Caracal.

I picked both of these because these cats are known to be wild and energetic and they can also be seen with as red so ginger red head gang.

Definitely Ohmes-raht and Dagi vibes. Dagi for climbing and living in trees and normally I'd pick ohmes since the bosmer and phmes are very closely related, but I picked ohmes-raht because of Auri's wild nature matching with her having more cat like features.

Caryalind: Yellow Ragdoll / Asian Golden cat

The ragdoll is seen as one of the sweetest cats in the world and the fact their are ones with golden coats just scream caryalind. The Asian Golden cat is picked it just because of the golden.

He's like Dagi-raht and Ohmes vibes.

Nebarra: Fat Golden Persian / Pallas Cat.

I have a whole story of Persian Catbarra being found in an abandoned barn starving and almost dead from being mauled by wolves. When he's living with his 'savior' he has the biggest attitude but he low-key has the biggest heart.

There is art of him as a khajiit, somewhere. But it portrays him as a Pallas cat and now no one can convince me otherwise it's his spirit animal.

I gave him Suthay and Senche variants.

Khash: Russian Blue/ Rusty-Spotted Cat.

If khash was a cat I think she'd be quite Russian Blue, just because.

Tiny and dangerous. Only reason I picked the rusted-spotted cat

I think she'd be Tojay-raht and Dagi

Taliesin: Siamese / Serval. My mom always told me the Siamese had the attitude of every cat breed in the world.

And Taliesin being a high Elf with dark hair matches the servals gold fur with dark spots, and the first serval I seen had the biggest attitude I've ever seen. I think

Taliesin would be an Suthay-raht and Alfiq.

Xelzaz: Scottish Fold / Jaguar. Scottish folds are so cute and their name just sounds so mature and determined.

When I was younger I thought jaguars and leopards were the only big cats that liked water because if a video I saw of a jaguars swimming for fun.

Xelzaz gives me Suthay-raht and Alfiq vibes.

Lucifer: Oriental Short-haired / Iriomote wild cat I was either gonna pick the Cornish Rex or the 'dobby' cat for Lucifer mostly as a joke but I honestly do think that out of every cat breed he would be that.

The Iriomote-yamaneko is known for the meaning "that which has flashing eyes". If you look at the cat you'll notice it has eyes kind of similar to to Lucifer, and the fact that it's critically endangered and my lack of knowledge of this species reminds me that I barely no anything about Lucifer.

I think Lucifer would be Tojay-raht and Alfiq-raht

Remiel: Greyish/Brown Mackerel Tabby / Black Tiger (yes there was 10 found in India, look it up *beware there was a dead tiger was on the search*)

I honestly thought that her cat Numi was a Brown Mackerel tabby mostly because I thought the mackerel tabby looked the most like how I imagine Remiel.

When I think of Remiel and which colors resonate with her. I think warm dark colors mainly of Orange, red, and black. Which kind of reminded me of tigers the most, but I didn't want to give her the plain Bengal so I look to see if black tigers were a thing.

I think Remiel would be a Tojay and a Dagi mainly too climb in dwemer cities safely.

Gore: Tortieshell Tabby / Female Lion

I think the tortieshell matches Gore's beauty a lot honestly that's the only reason I picked the tortieshelk for him. I think if he'd have cats he'd have a torieshell and a Bengal.

I'm specifically saying a female lion mainly for the fact that Gore is someone who is drawn to packs and is more of a hunter and not like how Male lions are portrayed as the leader.

Gore is definitely a Suthay or Tojay-raht and Pahmar-raht. Normally I'd pick Cathay for Gore but in the conversation where he asks that you don't see him as a great-sword wielder because of him not being a someone who's super muscular and tall, it makes sense to give him a smaller body furstock because it stick to his character.

Eris Light and Shade: Nebelung (german cat) / Lynx

I only picked Nebelung because of the name and the color of its coat.

The lynx is seen as one that's very reserved and quiet. Only keeping to itself, which matches a lot with Eris's personality

I see her as an Alfiq-raht and an Ohmes.

[juchily]

Yellowjackets (+ relationships) as song lyrics

(most if not all of it is rock ithink) and italics are being rlly weird so please excuse irregularities with that

Ve: tragic angst JackieShauna (Snackie), my beloved. Drug refs

Yellowjackets

"In a crooked little town They were lost and never found Fallen leaves, fallen leaves Fallen leaves on the ground" - Billy Talent's "Fallen Leaves"

"From chagrin I've been released Paint me in a portrait sans The fig leaves, fig leaves And I will not be concerned Or ignore the things I yearn My hunger is the rule I cannot overturn" - Dirt Poor Robin's "Enchanté"

"We are the angry and the desperate The hungry, and the cold We're the ones who kept quiet And always did what we were told" - Rise Against's "Prayer of the Refugee"

Literal all of "'Shia Labeouf' Live' by Rob Cantor

Natalie Scatorccio

"I've got a new low All fifty two cards in a row I see now that I won't let go No I won't let go

Well who am I? A cold shoulder left to cry You feel bad, well so do I Yeah so do I" - Middle Class Rut's "New Low"

"Did I try, did I try to make amends? To live and die or did I really just pretend? Nightmare's talking as I'm sleepwalking And I can't stop thinking" - Bad Wolves's "If Tomorrow Never Comes"

Lottie Matthews

"You can't breathe until you choke You gotta laugh when you're the joke There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive

Just open your eyes Just open your eyes And see that life is beautiful. Will you swear on your life, That no one will cry at my funeral?" - Sixx:A.M.'s "Life Is Beautiful"

"I raised myself My legs were weak I prayed my mind be good to me

An awful noise Filled the air I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

...

How many years I know I'll bear I found something in the woods somewhere" - Hozier's "In The Woods Somewhere"

Misty Quigley

"'Cause you don't talk to the water boy And there's so much you could learn But you don't wanna know You will not back up an inch ever That's why you will not survive" - Spoon's "The Underdog"

Shauna Shipman

"Strawberry lipgloss, oh, it's wasted On this dumb boy who likes the chase

But why am I so angry in the first place? Why am I hurting?" - Nxdia's "She Likes a Boy"

Jackie Taylor

"Maybe you were wrong and I was right I don't care, won't you stay another night? I just need some time to be myself I couldn't say "I need you" on that night When you left and I lost all track of time I just want you close so I can feel you Can you feel me? Mmm" - Prateek Kuhad's "Co2"

Taissa Turner

"This is unbecoming of me It's like my own reflection's not what it used to be Tryna figure out where I missed I'll never find the answer, it's just the way it is" - Saint Asonia's "So What"

Van Palmer

"I'm on fire" - Pitbull's "Fireball"

Laura Lee

"Early days and sleepless nights Death and resurrection, life My body is a sacred note Sung between the flesh and hope My dirt transformed within a breath Before I took a single step I'm looking forward to the day When life can grow without decay" - half·alive's "creature"

Travis Martinez

"'Cause so badly I wanna go outside. (Such a lovely day) But everyone knows that a man ain't suppose to cry, listen. I gotta cry 'cause cryin' eases the pain, oh yeah. People this hurt I feel inside, words can never explain. I just wish it would rain. (Oh, how I wish that it would rain)" - The Temptations's "I Wish It Would Rain"

Jackie x Shauna

"I've been cold in the crypt But not as the cold as the words across your lips You'll be sorry baby some day When you reach across the bed where my body used to lay" - Three Days Grace's "Chalk Outline"

""Come on in, boy" said the skeletons Sitting by her closet door Dirty secrets, empty memories And broken hearts across the floor I was knocked out, heels over head So you dragged me by my feet To a ghost town, where you buried me No wonder no one heard my screams

Love's so alive, but it died in it's sleep And now that it's dead I live in your head And I will haunt your fucking dreams" - Set It Off's "The Haunting"

Taissa x Van

"Well, I'm not the world's most passionate guy But when I looked in her eyes, well, I almost fell for my Lola Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo-Lola Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo-Lola" - The Kinks's "Lola"

"Believe me you really don't have to worry I only wanna make you happy and if you say "hey go away" I will But I think better still I'd better stay around and love you Do you think I have a case let me ask you to your face Do you think you love me?" - The Partridge Family's "I Think I Love You"

Lottie x Laura Lee

"Maybe in another life I could find you there Pulled away before your time I can't deal, it's so unfair" - The Offspring's "Gone Away"

Lottie x Nat

"Tell me who you are Your father has forsaken you Left you with those scars My hope is that you'll make it through Hate must never win Even when we're worlds apart Your love is not a sin Even if it's hard" - Falling In Reverse's "Coming Home"

Travis x Nat

"I am still dreaming of your face Hungry and hollow for all the things you took away I don't wanna be your good time I don't wanna be your fall-back crutch anymore" - Everclear's "Santa Monica"

Laura Lee x Nat

"I thought love was only true in fairy tales Meant for someone else but not for me Love was out to get me, that's the way it seemed Disappointment haunted all my dreams

And then I saw her face Now I'm a believer" - Smash Mouth's "I'm A Believer"

Jackie x Nat

"I just feel so out of place Well, except for when you're near me When you're gone, I'm like a plant with no root Or a song that's on mute Don't you dare call it cute! You should fear me!" - Kaden MacKay's "Your Stupid Face"

Adult TaiNat

"Maybe you should just fall And leave the world and lose it all And if that's what you need To finally see I'll be with you through it all

Bring on the pills, roll the dollar bill Medicating will never heal Relapse, rehab, repeat Always thinking about the me, me, me

Self-destruct, spiral down Until your want becomes your need Please get up like I know you can Or forever love the fall" - Nothing More's "Jenny"

Adult MistNat

"Nothing in the world that I do means a thing without you I'm just half alive in my struggle to survive without you" - Frank Sinatra's "My Way Of Life"

This has been sitting in my draft for like, a week now, and I needed to get it outta there, reblog with songs/song lyrics you think fits a Yellowjackets character -🦎

[hienekenfuckyeah]

Strings Attatched

Part 2

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: explicit, angst, fluff, Gojo and reader acting silly, mentions of reader with curly hair 

(not my art)

It had been two hours since Megumi and Tsumiki have gone to bed. The surroundings of your home are rather silent with a couple sounds here and there but nonetheless, quiet. You take in the peace and quiet as you lay on your stomach on top of the couch, silently scrolling through your phone, you can't help but feel alone despite the sweet silence of the house at 12am. You decided that maybe playing music would help you feel less alone but your thought diminishes  as soon as you hear the front door click open and you sat up as you turn to see Gojo sighing as he comes back to your home. You looked up and frowned as you took notice of his exhausted posture that was covered in blood. Blood of a curse and human, but not his own.

It was the middle of dinner and Gojo was chatting enthusiastically to Tsumiki and poking fun at you and Megumi whenever he got the chance, only for you and the young boy to poke fun at him back as you laughed at his overdramatic expressions. A buzzing sound is suddenly heard and Gojo pulls out his phone before frowning, his face still expressive through the cloth around his eyes.  He sighs and stands up from the table, excusing himself and walking away from the table, his dish in hand as he placed it in the sink and then slid in his shoes. You and the Fushiguro siblings wave him off ... .yes even Megumi ... .. hesitantly. 

After dinner you and the siblings engaged in some fun activities like tag (which even surprisingly Gojo had a rule of not running in the house), hide and seek, and karaoke amongst other things. You were surprised when Megumi even participated in the activities despite being the calm and not as sociable child he is, you assumed it was because he really did see you as his mother and would do anything to make you happy along with his sister. 

The siblings eventually got sleepy and prepared for bed as they allowed you to read them a story and they fell asleep, Tsumiki cuddling her giant stuffed bear Gojo got her for her birthday last year and Megumi cuddling with his Shikigami wolves who slept around him protectively. You cracked a smile at the sight before turning off the light in their room and heading to the kitchen to start cleaning up. After you finish, you settle down on the couch comfortably and end up on your phone,  scrolling aimlessly through things you deemed entertaining.

“You good?” you ask as you look at Gojo with a raised brow in disbelief. He turned to you, his face contorting into one of reassurance and a smile instead of exhaustion.

“I'm great, energetic might I add.” he says while taking off his blindfold, throwing it carelessly somewhere along with his shoes, earning him a glare, but you do nothing about it anyways. “Well if you're feeling so energetic, wanna help me clean the kitchen?” you replied, smirking as you placed your phone down. He then gave you a look as if to say ‘you're funny if you think I'm doing that’ and then sighed heavily in defeat and in no mood to argue back with you as he made his way to the kitchen. You remained on the couch,snickering to yourself before the man finally rushed back out the kitchen and took long languid strides towards you as he crossed his arms and pouted.

“Don't joke like that, it's mean” he whined. You rolled your eyes playfully before scrunching up your nose in disgust; remembering the blood covering the man head to toe and realizing how terrible it smells. 

“Too bad.” you teased before looking him up and down one more time and sighing as you covered your nose. “Go take a shower dude…” he looked at you then chuckled, as he made his way towards you, his hands slightly in front of him as he wiggled his fingers. You frowned at his actions and backed off the couch away from him. “Don't even think about it” you warned, your hand out in front of you defensively.

 “Think about what? I'm not doing anything” he purred playfully as he came in closer and closer causing you to think carefully and selectively about your options before sprinting away to your room; making it in there just in time before the tall man could do anything and locking the door behind you.

Gojo threw his head back then doubled over, laughing until his stomach hurt and he wiped away tears from his eyes. He stood in the living room, sniffing the air and scrunching up his nose to the saccharine smell of blood amongst other things. He took heed to your advice and went to clean himself off, while deciding how he'd break the news to you. 

–------------------

A knock is heard at your door and you pause the movie you were watching before shuffling off your bed towards the door. “Who's there?” you asked as you awaited a response before hearing a familiar voice.

“Guess” it countered back quickly before it hummed patiently. You sigh and open your door, “hi” you uttered to the white haired man before you, his hair still slightly wet as a towel was wrapped around his shoulders and he now wore sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. “hello” he hummed back. You looked at him then your screen for a second before replying, “you wanna finish this movie with me?” Gojo smiled and replied “of course I would ... .as long as you get me Kikufukufu later.”  you looked at him and frowned while shaking your head in disappointment and he chuckled at your reaction.

“How the fuck do you even pronounce that shit?” He pushed past you and into your room before flopping down all sprawled out on your bed. You look at him slightly baffled by his actions but not entirely. It's a habit of his, but it's never predictable. 

Gojo looked at you with a grin as if he was trying to provoke you. You simply ignored it and came up with your revenge ploy as you sat on his back causing him to let out a yelp in surprise and call your name out in a whiny tone. “Get off your too heavyyyy” he groaned, but you grabbed the remote and resumed the movie. 

He pouted and protested before deciding it's hopeless; shutting his mouth and watching the movie at an uncomfortable angle for what felt like forever until it was paused and you stood up. It had been  20 minutes since you've been sitting on him,  and now you're stretching and walking towards your door.

“Where are you going?” he questioned as he sat up and stretched himself, ridding himself of every uncomfortable kink in his body.

“bathroom” you replied before pausing to ask him a question.  “By the way can you tell me how you're meeting with the higher up’s, went? When I get back, I mean.” 

You had been the reason he was debating against the higher ups tod- yesterday in the late afternoon, you had received a message demanding you produce an heir a week prior, but of course you freaked out. Not only did you freak out though, you didn't want your child or children to be stuck living in the same shit show that you and Gojo were stuck in. Gojo said he'd find a way to convince him and you could only hope for the best as he took the Fushiguro siblings to school and left for work while you prepared for your mission.

He looked at you sadly before giving you a sheepish smile and nodding. “Yeah, I'll let you know.” 

He was messing around with your remote, flipping aimlessly through different movie and show titles for around half an hour. It wasn't long before he turned his head at the sound of soft footsteps and noticed you standing there as you brushed tangles from your wet hair with a towel around your neck. (You frowned when you realized how unruly your hair truly was so it lead you into the shower)

He was mesmerized for a moment. He would never get used to your extremely curly hair which you maintained in proper shape, using an assortment of products and brushing tangles and snags out of it, even clipping dead ends when needed. To put it into a summary, your hair was beautiful and perhaps softer than his, making him slightly jealous as you finally set your brush down on your vanity and placed your curls into a braid, guiding it to the front as some wisps of your curls stayed loose.

You finally made your way over the bed and noticed the white haired man staring, “take a picture, it'll last longer” you piped up, snapping Gojo back to reality. “Okay” he replied with a mischievous grin and pulling out his phone to take the worst picture of you. “Satoru, I was jok-” you paused when he flashed you the horrid photo, you glanced at his smug face and flipped him off, “delete that shit, rodent.”

“Nah, I don't think I will,” he teased.

“Satoru, I swear if I have to reach over there…”

“You can't if I have infinity on” he challenged.

You lunged forward only to be shoved back by an invisible force as you looked at him, jaw drawn agaped. “you motherf-....you know what, you're banned from my room.”

The man pouted and looked down at his phone as his thumb danced across the screen before chucking it to the side lightly. “you're no fun.”

“oh no, that's sad” you giggled.

Gojo then pressed the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically and began to swoon in disbelief. “It's not sad… it's a tragedy! How you could threaten me, my own friend. After all, we've been through together. The good and bad times, as a priestess and a king, you have truly broken my heart and now I shall perish from this anguish you've cussed…..” he then collapsed onto you causing you to yelp at the sudden weight on you, “Satoru!” you scolded as you groaned in annoyance.

He simply laughed at you before getting up and poking your cheek, “c'mon you know you liked my acting.” he taunted “if that's you acting then I don't want to know what the bare minimum of you acting is.” you shot back with a grin before giggling at him, causing the man to stare at you with a straight face and collapse on top of you again. 

“Really!? Again!? Get off me you lanky ass!!” 

“You asked for it, and plus you make a good pillow”

He laughs when you groan and allows you to struggle for a bit before deciding enough is enough and getting off you. You sat up before hearing an audible rumbling noise. You and Gojo turned to look at each other in shock before laughing. “Snack run?” he asked and you nodded in response, “Snack run.”

–-------------------------

You both return to your room, with different flavored ramen and bubble tea. You have spicy beef and taro flavored tea, while Gojo settled on chicken and strawberry flavored tea.

You took a sip of his tea before choking back a gag due to its extreme amount of sugar. “How the hell can you drink that” you managed to choke out after a minute. “the same way you can eat that spicy ramen without dying” he simply replied with a shrug as he took a delighted sip from his tea. “Eh fair I guess.” you hummed. 

Both of you sat in silence, enjoying your snack at god knows what time in the morning before something in the back of your mind ached and prodded at you almost giving you a headache until you remembered what it was.

“Oh yeah, you never told me what the higher ups said about our proposition.” at that Gojo froze before his ramen could reach his lips and he sighed, moving your bubble tea and ramen to the side on a stable surface along with his. You furrowed your brows in confusion glancing at his hands and then back up at his eyes, the ones that were telling you something as they gave you a look of empathy and sadness. “I'm so sorry..” and just like that you knew that your desperate plea had failed. 

[polutrope]

bittersweet memories + uhh turgon or finrod?

Thank you for the prompt! Here's ~850 words of plotless banter between old friends. Warnings for a little recreational cannabis use. Stoner Turgon is so important to me. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list. Beleria Cast of Characters.

They passed through the blue light tunnel and emerged onto a wide open space. Here, the leafless trees were girded in twinkling green and red and gold, garlands of handmade lanterns strung between them. Illuminated wire sculptures of bears and wolves and reindeer glowed among the thick cedar trunks that stood sentinel around Doriath Botanical Gardens.

“Hey,” said Finrod, grinning at the exuberant display of holiday cheer. “Remember when you got me high that time we took my parents here?”

“Best way to do a festival of lights,” Turgon mused, deadpan. He sipped from the hot apple cider they’d picked up at the concession.

Finrod laughed. “I don’t know, I was freaking out. Remember I kept tying to comfort you, thinking you were crying when you were laughing? Hah! And my little sister was there too, wasn’t she? She was what, eight? Nine? She must have thought we were nuts.”

“Galadriel at nine? She probably knew exactly what was going on. Your dad knew, too, by the way.”

“What!” Finrod cried.

“Yeah, he called me out on it when you went and stared at the Santa actor for so long some poor volunteer had to escort you out. He thought it was funny, mostly.”

The path rounded a corner and they were greeted by the smiling face and raised arm of a giant mechanical snowman swaying from side-to-side.

“Yikes,” said Turgon. “That thing’s ugly.”

“Surprised my parents let me hang out with you then,” said Finrod, following the thread of his memories. “Seventeen-year-old kid with his cousin in university.”

“Excuse me. I was a very good influence. ”

“I’m surprised you let me hang out with you.”

Turgon shrugged. “You were always more interesting than the guys I went to school with. You got me out of my textbooks to do fun things, like going the light festivals. Smarter, too. Actually, I thought you were cooler than me.”

“Aw.” Finrod bumped shoulders with him. “That’s sweet, Turno. Didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

“Oh, no. Back then. You’re a loser now.”

Finrod sighed heavily and knotted his arms across his chest.

“Hey— a joke, Ingo,” Turgon said, then looked down at him with that expression of concern that Finrod always found both reassuring and insufferably patronising. “Something up?”

“No, you have a point,” Finrod elaborated. “That was ten years ago, Turno, and what’s changed? I have two worthless arts degrees. Soon as I make any money I blow it trying to go ‘find myself’ in some distant land. I’ve worked in almost every coffee shop in the neighbourhood at this point. I’m still hung up on a girl I left five years ago. Pretty sure my roommate hates me.”

“Curufin hates everyone. Unless you mean Celebrimbor. That kid’s just weird.”

“No, of course not! I love Tyelpë.”

“There you go. It’s not all as grim as you make it out.”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean. You’re married to the love of your life. You have a beautiful daughter. You’re almost a professor.”

“Yeah, I do. And I love them, and I love my job. But I hardly sleep. I hardly spend any time with Elenwë or Idril anymore, and when I do my sister and her kid are there — I love Aredhel, I love my sulky little nephew, but they take up a lot of space. This is the first time I’ve been somewhere other than the university or my apartment in months. And do you know what postdocs make? Probably about the same as you’re earning at that coffee shop.” Turgon sipped his drink again. “Grass is always greener, Ingo.”

Finrod shook his head ruefully. “Sorry, I know.”

“It’s all right. I get it.” Turgon hooked an arm around Finrod’s shoulders and tugged him close. “You remember what granddad use to say?”

“You’ll figure it out, kid,” said Finrod.

“And then you’ll forget,” Turgon continued, mimicking Finwë’s sagacious drawl. “And then you’ll figure it out all over again.”

“That’s what keeps life from getting boring,” they said in unison.

At that moment, there was a burst of song, and to their right a fountain leapt up from the centre of the pond. Turgon stopped in his tracks, transfixed by the impressive choreography of light and water and sound.

“Ingo.” Turgon turned to him during a lull in the music. “I gotta tell you something.”

“Mm?”

“I’m high right now.”

“What! Tsk!” Finrod slapped his arm and Turgon snickered. Then he slid a small, colourful bag from his coat pocket.

“Gummies,” he said, opening the package. “You want one? They’re subtle, not like that stuff I used to smoke.”

“Gummies?” Finrod repeated. “You’re a gummy stoner now?”

“Shh.” Turgon chuckled. “I’m only a casual gummy user. You gonna take one or not?”

Finrod worked his fingers in the bag. “Of course I am,” he popped one in his mouth. “I can’t believe you were going to hide this from me.”

“I thought you might think I was a loser.” A carefree smile reached Turgon’s eyes. “Come on, fellow loser, let’s see some more lights — this time with a hundred percent more pop.”

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

As promised, this week is a Roseverse snippet, so here's a little scene from Chapter Two of our wolves don't live in fear, featuring everyone's favorite Imp Daddy.

-

He slammed the glass down on the counter. “I need a black coffee and I want you to put this in it, on the double.”

The barista was an imp about a head or two taller than Millie with her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. “I think you did this in the wrong order. Shouldn’t you get the coffee and then have the bartender actually mix it?”

“Maybe if I want it to taste good,” he shot back. “Honestly, this is gonna taste like ass no matter what I do to it. I don’t need your judgment…” He squinted at the nametag dangling from the strap of her black fringed flapper dress. “…Trisha.”

She rolled her eyes and accepted the whiskey and her task with all the grace you associate with food service in Hell- none at all. He leaned over the counter to address her back. “If you spit it in, joke’s on you. That’s a turn-on and I’m not paying extra for it, bitch.”

“Wow. You’re charming.”

Blitzø’s eyes darted to the imp leaning against the counter, a to-go cup pressed to his beaky mouth. He was average, caught somewhere between really hot accountant and really average actor. The kind of imp you saw in stock photos- in fact, Blitzø was certain he’d passed the fucking picture frame section of the hobby store he bought his horse toys at and had this guy’s face staring back at him down the whole aisle.

He jerked his thumb at him, addressing the barista. “So who’s the walking AI generated image of what a hot imp looks like? Doesn’t he have a job to do or something.”

“Jody doesn’t work here,” Trisha muttered pouring black coffee straight into the whiskey glass and giving it a little stir. That was not going to settle well, but if it gave him the shits, at least it would spare him any longer at this stupid party.

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult,” ‘Jody’- well at least he wasn’t a goddamn Dean or a Paul or something, that would be too much- blinked.

“Yeah, it’s safer if you assume nothing out of my mouth is a compliment.” He finally decided to give Jody at least half his attention. “Gatecrasher, huh? Maybe you’re not as shit as your lame-ass haircut makes you look. What’s your thing? You wanna rub elbows with the rich and famous? You lookin’ to case the joint? You’re not gonna tell me anything I haven’t done before with three times as much bloodshed.” He clapped the guy hard on the back, nearly sending him sprawling.

“He’s just here for the coffee,” Trisha-the-Barista said, dropping his glass next to his elbow. “He used to come into my shop every day until six months ago when it blew up after a missile destroyed the whole block. The princess felt bad since I guess it was kind of indirectly her fault and she’s like that, and offered me a job making coffee here, so…” She spread her hands, indicating her little coffee bar.

“And I just missed her coffee so much that I come here and get it.” Jody sipped his and, at least, had the sense to look sheepishly about something that Blitzø was already clocking and clocking hard. “I didn’t know there’d be a party. I’m usually in and out before anyone notices.”

Blitzø pivoted with his horrible coffee-whiskey nightmare of bullshit mixology to fully regard his target. In lieu of Moxxie, he had found someone new to fuck with. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a shitty night, after all. “So what? You walk the sixteen miles from any Satan-forsaken part of the Pentagram to get coffee? At seven at night? You fucking slick dick, no you didn’t.” He barked a laugh and then leaned on the bar again to look at Trisha. “Hey, honey, blink twice if you feel threatened by this wholesome serial killer-looking motherfucker.”

She stared at him without blinking for an impressive twenty seconds. “He’s fine. Nobody notices him.”

“I mean, yeah, he’s about as bland as wallpaper. Like… Hot wallpaper, but generic-hot. You get me?”

“You have been saying it in so many different ways,” Jody exclaimed. “How can I not get it?”

[constellama]

Both six of crows and pjo are rotating around in my head like a rotisserie chicken so I was thinking what it would be like if The Crows met The Seven (including some other characters)

!! Spoilers for both the Six of Crows duology and the pjoverse !!

Also disclaimer it’s been literally years since I’ve read any of the riordanverse so I’m going off of solely my memory here bear with me

Jesper joking around with Percy and Leo like cmon they would all be such good friends

And knowing how excited Jesper was with Sturmhond’s flying ships, he’d probably think the Argo II is the coolest thing ever

That’s where this is taking place actually I’ve just decided. Let’s put all these traumatized teenagers on a giant ship and see what happens

Wylan and Leo talking about explosives, need i say more

Wylan and Annabeth talking about architecture and Wylan showing Annabeth his sketches of the Ice Court

I wanna say Kuwei and Leo would also get along, since yk, fire powers and they both know science things. Leo keeps getting called an Inferni and it sounds cool to him so he doesn’t say anything

I don’t know why but I feel like Kaz and Percy wouldn’t really like each other (at first)

Kaz probably respects Percy a bit more though after learning that Percy literally fell into Tartarus for Annabeth and they made it through alive

Either that or he wouldn’t believe it

He’d also try to steal Riptide just to look at it after seeing it turn into a sword. It keeps returning to Percy’s pocket which confuses Kaz even more. After Kaz finds out just what’s up with Riptide though, he continues stealing it just because he can. He knows it’ll go back to Percy’s pocket but Kaz needs to be dramatic ok

Just “where did my pen go this time—?” “THIS pen?” “Damnit Brekker—”

Jason and Matthias would be friends, the stoic blond dudes who are incredibly loyal to the places they grew up in. They’d both be talking about wolves and growing up with them. Oh and they also have one other thing in common I’ll let you guys guess that one 😁😁

Nina being a big sister to Nico bc let’s be honest they’ve both been through a lot and hello?? Raising the dead??

Kaz would be somewhere off to the corner avoiding talking to anyone and maybe just maybe he’d see Nico, the boy with hurt in his eyes who reminds him a little too much of himself when he was younger

Wait I just had the sudden image of Kaz and Nico bonding over card games excuse me while I cry

OUGH WAIT THEYVE BOTH LOST OLDER SIBLINGS TOO HOLD ON

Kaz being haunted by his memories of Jordie 🤝 Nico being haunted by his memories of Bianca

Piper and Nina sharing beauty tips and braiding each other’s hair :>

Annabeth showing Inej her dagger bc oooo knives

Wait I just realized they both have daggers/knives either made of bones or having a bone handle

Frank turning into a wolf and Matthias being really excited

The Crows tripping up and accidentally calling Percy a Tidemaker (multiple times) He doesn’t know what it means but hey it sounds cool

Hazel doing things with her mist magic and Kaz being so incredibly baffled bc what do you mean it’s just magic. No there’s a trick behind it how did you do that

Frank turning into a crow and Kaz internally fanboying just a tad bit

Jesper and Hazel can both do cool things with metal and rocks and stuff so I think Jesper might call her a Fabrikator they’d exchange some knowledge about it or smth

Frank lowkey losing his mind bc one Leo was bad enough but now there’s Jesper ?? (/lh)

Kaz and Annabeth being the schemers/planners and leading their groups. Don’t know if they’d get along or not, what with Kaz’s,,, methods

I also think The Seven trying to explain the gods being real would go horribly wrong. Kaz would just snort and be like “yeah and I have two good legs”

Ough don’t even get me started on all the parental issues literal everyone has here

Except for like. A select few that have stable relationships with their parents

Colm Fahey helping his children commit crimes 🤝 Sally Jackson and Paul Blofis fighting off monsters that one time in The Last Olympian

I literally can’t think of any more, feel free to mention any interactions you think would happen :D

[awordsmith]

Secrets and Liars

Chapter Seven

----

It had never occurred to me that I'd be attending another one of Noal Kahn's parties, yet here I am; in my room, in front of my mirror, trying to figure out if I should wear my black blouse instead.

I sigh, shaking my head, I never cared too much about Noal, but I did have an interesting conversation with his brother on Halloween night, the year Ali disappeared. A soft scoff leaves my mouth, without her I wouldn't have ever been invited. None of us would have, I look around my room–it's hard to believe we're all together again.

I cross my arms, not knowing why I feel like I shouldn't wear anything but red tonight.

Music was blaring from speakers that were set up all around the cabin. My Little Red Riding Hood costume was my favorite by far, I'd really grown this year, and I stood taller with my heeled, red flats. They made noise whenever I took a step and I loved that about them.

Ali had told us not to embarrass her, but I split from the group shortly after we'd got there. Alison had wandered off somewhere and my feet had already begun to hurt.

Though, in all honesty, there were two more reasons I was trying to find somewhere to hide, and they both had been in the courtyard. I'd caught Romeo's eye as soon as we walked in. He was more laidback about me coming, so I was hoping he'd keep what he saw to himself, but just to be sure. If Elio found out I'd gone against him and came anyway, he'd be furious.

I found myself pushing open the kitchen doors and sitting myself on top of one of the counters next to the sink. I'd leaned my head back on the marble, cringing I hit it too hard. A snort and I was already glaring in their direction.

A tilt of a head and a smirk, "What?" He'd asked.

I sighed, ignoring him and pulling my phone to my face, crossing my legs at the same time.

"I get it," the random guy huffed with a smile, "you only trust big bad wolves."

His sad attempt at a joke actually forced a smile onto my lips. I looked up, tilting my head, my giant hood covered most of my eyes, but I could just about make out what he was wearing, a tuxedo and a half-mask.

"That I do," I called softly into the air, "Opera Phantoms don't stand a chance."

"Really now?" His voice was sultry and slurred, but he acted as if he had complete control over his actions and mind at the time.

"Mmhm," I set my phone down and watched him move closer.

"What's your name, Little Red?"

My throat made a small noise of amusement, "you first," I uncrossed my legs and sat up straighter.

"Well if I told you," he shrugged his head, "I'd have to kill you," his tone made it seem like he was joking, but a certain uneasiness came over me and I suddenly wasn't feeling too chatty anymore.

"I should get back to my friends." I made an attempt to scoot off the counter, but he cornered me.

"What's the rush? Granny can wait." Okay, his jokes were starting to get more annoying than endearing.

"Seriously?" I rolled my eyes, both annoyed and disgusted, "move." I pushed him to the side and to my surprise, he moved. I began sliding off the counter when Jason–out of nowhere–slammed into the guy.

"What the hell?" I shrieked. I didn't even know he was going to be here tonight–I would have added him to the list.

"What the hell?" the guy slurred.

"You're drunk Eric and you still tried?"

"It was a bet," Phantom–Eric–laughed off the shove, brushing his clothes.

"What bet?" I narrowed my eyes, moving in front of Jason, cringing when I got a whiff of what he'd been drinking tonight.

Eric rolled his eyes, "that's really none of your business."

"It's my business if it was about me." Eric raised an eyebrow, his smile hinted at something more–oh god–Aria. "Did you and Noal–" My nose scrunched up at the thoughts that trickled in.

"I'll kill you," Jason moved past me and threw a punch, it all happened so fast I couldn't even register it at the time. Though I had to pull Jason off, I was glad it was him who threw that punch and not me, because I'm pretty sure he would have let me punch until I saw red.

"Okay, okay Jason–that's enough–"

"No–it's not," he'd shrugged me off and I was so shocked by the harsh action directed at me, I could only watch him, really watch him. I don't think I've ever seen him that worked up. I hated that he might have been drunk, it made me wonder if he would have stepped in if he wasn't–no that was a crazy thought. Firstly, of course, he would, secondly, even if there was a possibility he wouldn't–it shouldn't upset me, at least not the way it did.

I pushed those thoughts to the very back of my mind though, and turned back to him. "Jason, you're drunk, let's go." I needed to find Aria and the other girls, especially if this "bet" extended to the Kahn's inner circle.

"You never should have come," The harsh tone of his voice gave me pause. I dropped his arm and put my hands on my hips, "you should've just listened to Elio," he shook his head, finally meeting my eyes.

I couldn't help the words that escaped my mouth next, "You're unbelievable–"

"–And you're a child–"

"–At least I'm sober!" I didn't mean it, not really. But I was just so worked up at that moment, and even though he wasn't all there, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he'd remember what I'd said, after he woke up, a year from now–probably forever. And in that moment I'd thought, good, let him never forget that I've seen him in his ugliest moments.

But then again, if I think that way, I can't forget that he's seen me in mine; that'd be hypocritical of me. I watched his eyes look me up and down, and then I watched him walk away. I meant to wonder after him, to apologize and make up with him, sober him up enough to the point where I could take him home, or maybe someplace quiet.

I didn't want him to think of this night and remember me being mad at him and judging him for his choices, even if they were bad because I knew he'd never judge me. I wanted him to know that I supported him, I always would. But then I got a text from Ali

Alison SOS. 10/31/2009 7:3 pm

and Ali never texted SOS.

"Hey, you ready?"

"Oh, yeah," I smile at Aria.

"That top looks nice, I feel like I've seen it before."

"It's new," I tuck a hair behind my ear, "maybe in a shop window?"

"Huh," she frowns, "maybe..."

----

Chapter Nine

This one was pretty short, I know I said I was going to post twice yesterday. I lied–I'm sorry! Posting tomorrow though!

[imjustforthefandoms]

TWSTOBER DAY 7: Jack Howl

Jack lets out a soft huff under his breath during P.E. Even during independent workouts, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of Epel. Every time he came up from a push-up he caught another glimpse. The toned muscles beneath the pale skin, the determination that never left his face. There was a thin line between cute and Hot, and Epel was walking it like a trained Trapezist. Watching him push himself like that, constantly pushing his limits further and further. It entranced him like a moth to a flame.

“What’s got you all riled up, Jacky?” The sudden voice snapped Jack out of his stupor, standing up from his position and looking towards the voice, being met with the purple eyes of Oswald.

“Huh, What are you talking about? I'm just getting my reps in.” Jack replied, crossing his arms. The silver-haired boy shook his head with a soft hum.

“So you doing reps makes your tail turn into a wind turbine?” Oswald asked, a knowing smirk on his lips. Jack grits his teeth, a touch of red coming to his cheeks. Damn his tail at times…

“I know that look better than I know my dice. And you’ve gotta sweet treat on your mind. Question is, which of those little bugs caught you in their web?” Jack shook his head, letting out a soft grunt.

“Why would it matter to you?” he asked, looking away from the man in front of him. It's not like he wanted to ask Epel out. Or that he would like to do a workout with the first year. Or that maybe he would like to watch him carve apples in his free time.

“I just want to help you. A second year aiding his lowerclassmen in his free time. My dorm is known for it's benevolence after all. And I’d bet my hand that you can turn this web into your own trap if you wanted to.” Oswald let out a chuckle, a smirk on his lips. Jack let out a growl, baring his fangs.

“I don’t want it to be a trap. It should be natural…” Jack's eyes fell to the ground, his voice a bit quieter. “I want it to be natural. Just like…Wolves forming a pack together. Mutual respect.”

“Well then i’d be happy to give advice. I’ll admit, i was a bit popular with the ladies back where I’m from. But I can’t help if I don’t know a name.” Oswald looks over the P.E. class with a soft hum. “Doubt it would be Spade or Diamond. And i doubt you’d be that nervous over Asim…”His eyes go wide for a moment, looking at Jack with an almost teasing smile.“You like the Felmir boy don’t you?” Jack’s eyes went wide, biting his lip as a soft tint came to his cheeks. Oswald let out an almost sinister chuckle, “Nature’s candy is your little treat ain’t it?”

“Stop saying things like that!” Jack growled, his tail swishing behind him like an angry whip.”I don;t need your help, and i didn’t ask for it either!” Oswald let out a sigh as he calmed down.

“Alright alright. If you don’t want my help, then you won’t get it. But id rather not leave you high and dry” Oswald said, before the two of them heard the bell for dismissal. “Oh, and there’s the bell. I’ll leave you with this. Have fun with it. Make it a joke. The less serious you act, the more into it he’ll be.” And with that, Oswald made his way inside to change out of his P.E. clothes. Jack stood there for a moment, letting out a sigh. A joke…his feeling weren’t a joke. Why would he need to act like a joke?! He looked over at Epel, wiping the sweat from his brow before he took a sip of water. He works so hard, and yet his smile is so bright. So warm…like warm apple cider. He took a breath. Oswald would probably know a bit more and Jack really didn’t know where else to start… Jack gave a nod to himself, he had to start somewhere.

He’ll give it a shot.

[pearldog30]

The last message, pt 2.

So I honestly didn't even have intentions on doing a part 2, for this series but @macravishedbymactavish encouraged it. and I thought of an amazing idea for this so I just had to do it. Part 1 👈 sorry if this isn't Welly perforated it's late when I'm writing this okay.

David Walker.

Other works 👉 Master list

Warnings| angst, death, description of wounds, blood.

It's been about a long, exhausting, month. after tracking where Rorke went with Logan. they think they finally have a lead on where they might be at, finally a glimpse of Hope for David.

Weeks after sleepless nights, panic attacks, nightmares of the scene replaying over, and over in his head of his brother being dragged away and the video his dad left him. they finally might have something, even if it's not much, it's something. giving David the strive to keep going, and to keep fighting even harder, for his brother. that's what's been keeping him going all along. The thought of finally getting inventions on rorke for his father, weighing heavily on his mind. but not only vengeance for his father, vengeance for his brother, and all the Brothers he's lost in this battle.

They eventually find the exact building of where they think the Federal were holding up at. And tonight, was the night they were going to be the classic ghosts they were. and go in and take them out one, by one, quietly. to get Logan back. Hesh, Keegan, and kick, were going to pull this mission off together. As Merrick stayed back and helped them along from the outside. They made sure they planned this perfectly as this was their one and only shot they could make no mistakes, they had no choice. 1 mistake, and it could be all over.

They get to the base where they know Rorke and Logan will be. But it won't be so easy, as the guards are everywhere, they waited until the next shift change, as it would be easier to take them out from the shadows. To make sure they didn't draw attention to themselves. As they knew if they got in a gunfight they wouldn't be able to last, they'd be outnumbered way too quickly. They were like the lone wolves walking into the Lion's den. One wrong move and they'd be a snack to Rorke, feeding him and his army. As they knew if rorke had the chance he would do whatever he did to Logan, to them.

After taking the two guards out that were standing at the gate. they finally got into the base. now was when the real game of cat and mouse begun. "I'm going to get to the security room to find out where they're being held up. You 2 get into the main building and wait for my commands, since we know they're in there somewhere." Keegan said to hesh and kick. Keegan was leading this mission commanded by Merrick. Not that Merrick didn't trust hesh, he just couldn't take the chance of the guy with nothing else to lose, leading the mission. as he didn't want hesh's vengeful, hot-headedness, getting in the way of the mission. As he knew hesh's feelings would get the best of him, and he would be leading with his heart and not his head.

doing as commanded, Hesh and kick went their own ways, as Keegan found himself at the security room. doing what he does best, taking them out before they even know it. "Kee you made it to the security room yet?" Hesh asked over the radio, as they entered the main building. "Yeah just got here. Not too much of a hassle surprisingly" Keegan joked to himself. "Alright, do you have eyes on rorke or Logan?" Hesh ask hesitantly. "No I-" before Keegan could finish his sentence he was cut off. "KEEGAN! KEEGAN!!" Hesh and kick yell over the radio concern for their friend now. "Haha... When do you boys ever learn" they heard the familiar sound of rorke. And this made hesh's vision go red, as he was seeing straight blood at this point. You could have swore he could have killed him, and the entire army they had there, from just the look in his eyes.

"God damn it Rorke I'm going to fuckin find you" hesh said angrily over the radio. as him and Kick moved up from the main building, going to the security room. as that was the only shot they had. As they begin getting close, they soon felt a sharp stabbing pain in their neck. Soon their vision going blurry, falling to the ground blacking out.

Hesh's eyes begin slowly opening, all he can feel was his head pounding, the taste of blood coding his tongue. He tried to recognizing where he was, but all he felt was being dragged. He tried to muster up what strength he had to fight back. but it was no use, as his hands were tied together. "Uh.. even knocked out, out of consciousness he still tries fighting" he heard the faded voice of rorke. He hoped to whatever universe there was, that this was just a bad dream. and they didn't just fail the mission.

"set him there" he heard the raspy voice of rorke command. as he began feeling being thrown into a chair, his vision coming back Fully. he shakes his head looking around, and he feels like he's been here before. "Damn son you just couldn't get enough of me couldn't you. Hehe..." Rorke chuckled out before he continued. But instead of listening to him, he soon recognizes Logan behind him, his eyes going wide. something's different about him, something's off, it's not the Logan that he knows, and it breaks him. Rorke soon notices "oh what your brother" he says pointing to Logan. "Yeah him. we just fixed him up a little bit, made him stronger, better. he was broken and weak when he was with you." Rorke says and the words cut Hesh Like a knife that's on fire. "Isn't that right Logan boy?" Rorke says to Logan making him speak for the first time "yes sir" Logan says with a smirk, and hesh can't begin to imagine what they've done to him.

"it's like we got the whole family here... Almost.." Rorke says before continuing. padding hesh's shoulder, and it just drives hesh into a rage. wanting to strangle him with the rope that's wrapped around his hands, right then and there. "Anyways let's cut to the Chase and get to the point. " Rorke says bending down to eye level to hesh. "I'm going to fix you, I'm going to make you a new man like I did your brother. I'll make sure you're not weak like your dad was, or who knows.... maybe you're already too far gone like him. weak, and broken." As the words leave Rorkes lips, it gets hesh to his final breaking point, exactly what rorke wanted. hesh's knows Rorke was referencing the video he left him. "I'LL FUCKIN KILL YOU MOTHERFUCKER JUST WATCH!!" hesh yells out, trying to get up from his chair to tackle Rorke. but he is soon thrown back into the chair by his brother, getting pistol whipped. feeling blood quickly rush out his nose.

"that was a ballsy move I got to give it to you" Rorke says, as he begins walking around hesh. But before anything else could happen they hear a voice come through the walkie-talkie "sir we need you. two of the prisoners escaped" the voice says and Rorke huffs out to himself annoyed. "Fuckk.. Logan you stay here, and watch him. I got to go take care of this" and before anything else is said, Rorke leaves the room. Giving hesh the perfect chance to try and hope that his brother is still in there somewhere, trapped in the cage of whatever they did to him.

"Logan you there, look at me." hesh pleads out. Trying to get his attention but it's no use. He knows whatever they've done to him, he won't be able to compromise. so he has to go to the last resort that kills him "please... listen to me... acknowledge that I'm here... anything!" He says to his brother. But his brother continues ignoring him, with each passing word his brother looks farther away from him. Hesh knows that he's fighting something inside, whatever it is that has this hold on Logan, it refuses to let it acknowledge hesh "bro bro... Please.... You know the real me.." hesh whispers out, not realizing how much this is hurting him. The nickname David gave his little brother when they were little, made something in Logan turned his head to look at him. and for a second David saw his brother come back, but as soon as it came, it vanished.

"Stop..." Came the quiet cold voice of Logan, as he looked away again. "No! You know the real me... I'm sorry for all of it.. I- I should have fought harder for you at the beach" hesh finally cries out. Finally all the pain and guilt from that day finally catching up to him, and pouring out from him. Even if his brother wasn't there, he was going to make sure he knows how truly, and genuinely, sorry he is. that he couldn't get up, and fight for his brother on that day. that he just laid there, and watched him be dragged away.

As the words slowly, and brokenly, leave hesh's lips. Logan moves his head, as if he's trying to avoid listening. "N-no Logan please... Don't throw me in the dark... I- i can't lose youu...." David continues. He doesn't care if he's a sobbing mess, he doesn't care if he's sounding ridiculous, he doesn't care if this makes him pathetic, and weak, all he cares about is getting his brother back. "Logan please... I saw what they did to da- dad.." David says trembling, and this is what makes Logan completely snap. He walks up to David quickly putting a gun to his head. Pushing it right up against his Temple. "One more word! and I will pull the trigger.." Logan says deeply, his hand slightly trembling, sweating. David knows if the real Logan is there, he wouldn't even think about pulling the trigger.

He decides that it's worth the shot getting his brother back. "Do it then Logan... Fuckin. Do. It. Because I know you won't" David yells pushing his head up against the gun harder, looking into Logan's eyes. Logan breathes out heavily, quickly looking away from David putting the gun to his side. "See.. I knew you couldn't do it... I know you're still in there Logan" David says, continuing trying to fight that little battle going on in Logan's head. "Remember what mom always taught us... The only people we have is each other..." and for some reason those words leaving David's lips, make Logan cover his ears, violently shake. almost as if he's having a panic attack.

"Logan remember all those times da-" before David could continue. Rorke comes back in the room sweating, and infuriated. "WELL IT SEEMS LIKE OUR LITTLE FRIENDS HERE HAVE ESCAPED" Rorke yells, before he notices what's going on. "Get the fuck up Logan" Rorke commands staring down at Logan. Kicking him in the stomach, spitting next to him. Logan grunting in pain, grabbing his stomach. "I SAID GET THE FUCK UP... I TRAINED YOU BETTER THAN THIS" Rorke says as Logan stumbly comes back to his feet, sweating. Rorke putting his hand on Logan's shoulder, whispering something in his ear. David looking up catching his brother's eyes, he can tell that his brother is back. that the words that he was saying were the thing that broke him out of that prison that he was fighting to get out of for however long. giving David some sort of Hope. "Yes sir" Logan says sternly to Rorke, slowly backing away from him.

Logan giving David one last look it was something unpredictable, something that scared David deep down, he knows whatever that look is it's not good.

Before David could fully process the look, Logan quickly grabs the knife from his back pocket, stabbing rorke in the neck. As he does the gun Logan didn't realize roark's had in his hand accidentally goes off, shooting Logan in the heart as well. It all happened so fast before anyone could process any of it. Both of them stumbling to the ground, both of them starting to choke on their own blood. David quickly gets up from his chair running over to his brother. "NO NO NO NO.." David cries out, putting his tied hands on his brother's chest, to try and slow down the bleeding. "S-stay with me Logan" David says to his brother as he begins to feel tears running down his cheek. His worst nightmare slowly coming true. He could feel the blood rushing out from beneath his hands, his chest slowly beating slower and slower, his breathing getting lighter and lighter. "Co-me on brother..... I- I'm... going t.. to ge.. get you help... stay with me" David chokes out, doing the best he can to help his brother stay alive. "T-Thank you bubba...." His brother whispered to him, lightly putting his hand on David's arm, as the life he once had slowly disintegrates.

"no! God dammit you keep your eyes open and keep on fighting" David says sternly to his brother watching the life slowly leave his eyes, feeling his once warm hand, turning cold. limply falling to the ground next to him. "FUCK! FUCK! NO! NO!" David yells out crying. holding his unconscious, slowly lifeless body, to his chest. Feeling his warm blood starting to coat himself he doesn't care. He would sit there in a lifetime covered in blood. both literal, and physical, if it meant his brother would come back to him. He would navigate his way through hell with no compass, no map, if it meant getting his brother back. the once so young, so full of life, so quiet but yet joyful, Logan Walker. Leaving this once beautiful Earth.

Keegan and Kick eventually find hesh. and the scene before them shocks them, stopping them both in their tracks. Hesh on the floor holding his brother's lifeless body, crying to himself, trying to get his brother to come back to him. covered in his blood, it breaks their hearts. not only did they lose a member, they lost a friend, they lost their brother, Forever. Until one day they all meet again. "David" Keegan quietly says, gently approaching hesh. He knows hash is suffering badly, with this loss. but they can't sit in this base forever they have to go. "David" Keegan says again. gently putting his hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. "We have to go" Keegan says to David meeting his eyes. And right there he could tell that David wanted to die there with his brother. "But.. but.." hesh cries out, hesh doesn't give a shit if Keegan saw him crying, he just lost his brother, his other part of him that he didn't know he had. He lost himself. "No come on we have to go" Keegan says lightly to David. undoing the rope that tied his hands together. "Keegan's right come on they're waiting for us" kick says lightly, as Keegan tries to drag David out of there, So they all didn't get killed in there.

"NO I CAN'T LEAVE MY BROTHER" hesh screams still in denial, refusing to come to terms that his brother is gone. "David look at me... He's gone" Keegan says looking into David's eyes. as much as it breaks him to say this, it's the truth. and he's not going to sit around and let David live in denial. cuz that's only going to hurt him more in the long run. "Come on we have to go, we have to get back to the rest of the guys" Keegan says. as him and kick drag him out of there, because if they didn't he would have died there along with his brother. David still silently crying to himself, as they drag him out of the building.

And that's going to be the and for this. I hope you all enjoyed this! I hope this lived up to its expectation. I had a plan but then as I started writing it out it kind of just flopped but some people want it out anyway. So I hope it was somewhat enjoyable, and readable. Anyways I hope you're having a good day/night wherever you are. Reblogs, and comments are always appreciated 🖤

Tags @macravishedbymactavish @simonsdoll @alexkellersleg

[final-girl96]

Joseph Quinn’s upside-down year

He’s gone from hustling for bit parts to playing a beloved character in one of the biggest shows on TV, thirsted after by fans and fellow celebrities alike. Inside the surreal year of 2022’s buzziest British breakout

By Jack King

5 December 2022

Coat, £1,970, Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier. T-shirt, £7.90, Uniqlo. Hat, £325, Lock & Co. Hatters.Ben Parks

When Joseph Quinn took the call that would come to change his life for good, he was standing in his kitchen in South London. His agent was on the other end of the phone. “He called me, like, ‘Who’s that?’ And I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ So he goes, ‘I’m sorry, is that Eddie from Stranger Things?’” Quinn recalls. “I literally fell to my knees. Like, What? Are you sure? It felt like it’d just fallen out of the fucking sky.” It was November 2019. Only three weeks prior, in the very same flat, he’d recorded his first self-tape for the hit Netflix series with the help of his then-girlfriend and flatmate. “Obviously, at that point, I’m just fucking suspicious about the whole thing. This never happens. And here we are.”

Flash forward to today: after storming into the public consciousness as the sci-fi throwback’s latest anointed breakout, starring as punkish pariah Eddie Munson in Stranger Things series four, the 28-year-old has just flown out to LA for the third time in his what-the-fuck year. It’s a rhythm he’s still very much getting used to. Resultantly, we’re chatting over Zoom, myself in London’s Mile End, a short swim down the Thames from the unassuming world of his adolescence. “I love South London. I still live there – you get accused of heresy if you leave,” he jokes. “I might want to branch out somewhere different, because you don’t want to feel stagnant. But my life’s there: I went to school there, it’s where I met all of my friends.”

Jacket, £1,400 and trousers, £725, Etro. Shirt, £99, Boss. Boots, £1,750, Dior. Ben Parks

He scored his first job, on the 2015 TV drama Dickensian, in his third year at LAMDA (“I was a jammy fucker,” he says), the hallowed Hammersmith drama school where British acting royalty – Cumberbatch, Cox, Ejiofor – cut their teeth. It was while he was in his graduating class, in fact, that he met Fabien Frankel, then a first year, now enjoying his own rise apropos of the Game of Thrones spin-off House of the Dragon.

“It’s fucking hilarious,” Quinn says of Frankel’s new-found stardom. “We’ve shared similar anxieties about the ridiculousness of our situations.” The two are good friends; Frankel, for his part, brims with praise. “As much as it pains me to say, he was always just a brilliant actor,” he says of Quinn. “There was always some magic on stage. Sadly we’ve never got to work together, but we’ve always stayed close.”

Quinn’s early luck with Dickensian, as it turns out, was a touch premature; after that show ran its course, Quinn didn’t work for nearly a year. But an influx of parts eventually came his way: first a gig as a Stark soldier in an episode of Game of Thrones, then, suddenly, a job on stage opposite Olivia Colman at the National Theatre. “He is utterly joyful, naughty, and fun,” Colman says of Quinn. “He puts the work in. You know you’re in safe hands.”

Coat, £3,200, shirt, £1,950 and trousers, £1,300, Prada. Shoes, £980, Church’s. Ben Parks

A steady trickle of work followed: BBC’s Howards End mini series, opposite Matthew Macfadyen; as the tragic revolutionary Enjolras in the Beeb’s not-a-musical adaptation of Les Mis, reuniting with Colman; under Steve McQueen in the first part of his critically acclaimed anthology film series, Small Axe. “I’ve been so lucky that I’ve not had to graft, and wait tables, and do the traditional catering jobs in between to keep the lights on,” Quinn says. “I’ve been fortunate enough, and savvy enough with my money just about, when things are looking a bit bleak, to book another gig. And that keeps the wolves from the door.” It was around the time of the London Film Festival premiere of his first major indie film, the psychosexual slow-burner Make Up, that he sent in his Stranger Things audition tape.

A few days after the call came in, he met the sibling duo who puppeteer Stranger Things, the Duffer brothers, over Skype. “They were very nice, and very kind,” Quinn remembers. “I was very disarmed by the whole thing. Kind of like, ‘Are you sure?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, we really want you to do it.’” In total, 287 actors read for the part, according to the Duffers, who describe the process as one of the longest casting searches they’ve ever had. “At one point, we remember getting nervous,” they say. Munson was abrasive and unlikeable on the page; they needed him to be lovable, without wanting to be loved. That confluence of traits seemed an impossible bullseye, until Quinn’s reels arrived. “Joe was hilarious and charming, but with an unpredictable, wild edge about him,” they recall. It was a no-brainer. The call was a formality. “He’s a director’s dream because he takes what’s on the page and sprints with it.”

Blazer, £2,360, and shirt, £500, Gucci. Ben Parks

Quinn’s anecdotes from those early days are cut with the sincere self-deprecation you might expect of a guy still scrambling to catch up with his own ascent. This is the stuff that Faustian bargains are made of, after all: over a billion hours’ worth of Stranger Things series four was watched within the first month of release. That’s a lot of eyeballs. “I was talking to Dan Cohen, the [executive] producer of Stranger Things, about it,” he says. “He talked about the over-nightness of these experiences now, with these streaming platforms. One moment you’re fine, and then it drops. It’s on in millions and millions of houses. After that, it just kind of snowballs.”

The first table read came next. “It was a very weird experience. I was sat next to the lovely Jamie Campbell Bower, who’s had experience in these bigger shows before,” he remembers. “Obviously, because everything has to be documented on this show, they were filming the table read to keep the fans satiated. The setup was that the pre-existing cast were on a very long table, and we were behind them, being kept secret from the cameras. We were shouting, delivering the lines to the back of the cast’s heads, which felt very odd.” Both he and Campbell Bower, as Quinn recalls, were “shitting it”. Following that, he had weeks of fittings, kitting him out in the idiosyncratic metalhead threads that form Munson’s outcast armour. He had his first day of shooting, and then… whiplash. “[Stranger Things co-director] Shawn Levy came out at the end of the day and said we’re going into… a lockdown of some kind,” he says. “A hiatus of two weeks. Which would’ve been nice.” It would be another six months before Quinn returned to set.

Shirt, £500, Gucci. Trousers, £924 and loafers, £650, Dolce & Gabbana. Ben Parks

What felt to him like a decade later, the show finally bowed to the masses. He watched the Stranger Things series four finale, wherein Munson goes out with self-sacrificial aplomb, with his little sister, dad, and his dad’s wife. Do they treat him differently now? “No, definitely within your immediate circle you hope nothing changes. It’s a very weird thing to comment on… [if] you take into consideration the actual fucking fresh hell that people are going through now, it feels like an arbitrary thing to feel threatened by,” he says. “Eighty per cent of it is amazing. Professionally, 100 per cent is amazing. 20 per cent of it is… fucking bizarre.”

Somewhere within that 20 per cent: the online drama between co-star Noah Schnapp and Doja Cat soon after the season aired, when the former publicly shared a DM from the rapper asking Schnapp to play Cupid between her and Quinn. “I’m kind of hesitant to talk about it really, because I didn’t do anything,” Quinn notes. “It’s not something that I put out into the world. But I do think she’s an incredible artist. It’s flattering.” This intrusive level of public scrutiny obviously comes part and parcel with sudden, incandescent fame. The tyranny of Instagram gossip and fans reading telescopic paparazzi photos like tea leaves are the unfortunate by-products of being at the top of the screen-acting game. Nevertheless, it must be difficult to adjust to. “People will weave narratives about you that aren’t true, I guess,” he says. “And I think accepting your powerlessness over that [is best]. If you’re going to correct people constantly, you’re going to end up exhausted.”

Blazer, £2,360, shirt, £500, trousers, £890 and boots, £1,230, Gucci. Ben Parks

But being famous, a term he loathes to use for himself, isn’t all bad. Take the sudden groundswell of cultish Munsonmania, perhaps no better demonstrated than at London Film and Comic Con this summer. “It was the first time I’d ever encountered the fandom,” he recalls. There were rumours that Quinn was “mistreated” by the staff during a meet and greet, blindsided by the sheer number of Munsonites, but he was quick to debunk them, a point he reiterates now. “It was very overwhelming. I don’t think the Con were prepared for the numbers. I certainly wasn’t.” In a viral video widely shared online at the time, a fan expressed their impassioned gratitude: for Quinn’s time at the Con, for bringing Munson to life. Quinn seemed emotionally overwhelmed, dabbing away tears with the inside of his elbow, barely conjuring a murmur. An outsider might conclude this to be the moment that the pin dropped. “I don’t want to sound too saccharine about it, but it is moving,” he says. “If you have a curiosity about people and storytelling, for a character you’ve created with the help of others… for that to resonate with people, it feels very profound, you know?”

And then there are the holy-shit moments. First up: in late July, he made his chat-show debut on Jimmy Fallon, though that came within a whisker of being cancelled. “I was sick before I went on,” he says. “I stupidly had oysters for lunch on the day, thinking that I needed some vigour and vitality and that’d get me through it.” Turns out his mind was playing tricks: that stir in the pit of his gut was the product of acute anxiety, per the show’s backstage nurse. But he still went on. He met Kevin Hart, “a consummate pro,” in the green room backstage. “The nerves just bounce off him, I think, whereas they were just leaving bullet holes in me,” Quinn says. A month before our interview, he was named one of Variety’s 10 Actors to Watch for 2022. Patton Oswalt introduced himself to Quinn at the swanky brunch coronation thereafter. “He just feels so many miles away from my life. For him to come up to me was very weird.”

Jumper, £1,050 and shirt, £680, Dior. Ben Parks

Stratospheric parts like Eddie Munson are a “lottery ticket,” as Quinn puts it. And at the end of it all, he’s effectively coming away with a blank check. Is he going to put his energy into indie roles, like the drama he finished shooting over the summer, Hoard, or is he marching up to the Broccolis to demand Bond? “Yeah, I’ve just got off a Zoom with Barbara, actually…” he jokes. “I don’t know. It’s such a fucking cliché, but it’s about connection to the material. With Hoard, I’m specifically excited for the director, Luna Carmoon, and the lead, Saura Lightfoot Leon. That’s a lovely experience, completely different to these behemoth sets. But you want range.” A judicious answer. Really though: Bond? “I think I’d be fucking stupid to say no to that,” he says, laughing. “But, come on, it’s not even worth entertaining.”

Even that is on the presumption that Munson’s Stranger Things journey is over. “Yeah, I’ve said I don’t know because I really don’t know,” Quinn says. “Shawn Levy has said it publicly. I think [his return] would be very, very, very unlikely. He seems pretty fucking dead to me,” he says, punctuated by a sharp chortle. He takes a moment.

“It’s just a beautifully written arc. The beginning, middle and end are so powerful as it stands, so I think to just crowbar him into a narrative… you don’t want him to overstay his welcome,” he continues, ever the diplomat, seemingly wary of disappointing the legion of fans who made him. But a sense of certitude undergirds his prudence; the feeling that, after years of cohabitation, he’s ready to let Munson go.

“He did the job that the Duffers wanted him to do,” Quinn says. “By no means am I ruling it out. That’s a decision for the grown-ups to make. But Stranger Things was doing fine without Eddie. I think they’ll be fine next season without him, too.”

PRODUCTION CREDITS

Photographs by Ben Parks

Styling by Fabio Immediato

Grooming by Brady Lee

Jacket, £239, shirt, £99 and Boss Bottled parfum, £86, Boss. Ben Parks