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[osaemu]

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[keeryhours]

do you wanna come over? - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You’re one of the most beautiful and popular girls in Hawkins, and you’ve set your sights on Eddie Munson. Little do you know, he’s a virgin - and also pretty in love with you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), protected p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating sort of, restraints, virgin!eddie, perv!eddie, drug use, getting walked in on

Word Count: 9.7k

A/N:

This is set up for a part 2, so let me know if you’d like to see that soon! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner and for reading, and thank you @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines , @losingmygrasponreality, @lesservillain!

Eddie Munson was your weed dealer and nothing more.

Well, occasionally shrooms. Or Special K. Basically, he was your dealer with no strings attached.

You weren’t even sure if you liked the guy. You didn’t know him. He was very…vocal from what you saw of him in the cafeteria, but he always came along with his small group of nerdy friends. You never saw him with a girl. Not once.

There was no way Eddie Munson was a virgin, right? The dude had done his senior year 3 times now, he was like 20 years old. You figured the girls at school probably just weren’t his taste anymore.

Why Eddie was on your mind so much lately was honestly beyond you. You had never thought of him much before, unless you needed some drugs for the weekend. But now it was like he was always on your mind. You even brought it up to your best friend, Chrissy, after practice.

“There’s just no way he’s a virgin, right?” You asked her as you moved into a split, feeling the muscles in your thighs stretching.

Chrissy giggled as she did the same. “Why are you so interested in Eddie Munson’s sex life all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “It just…doesn’t make sense. Have you ever seen him with a girl?”

“Of course not,” Chrissy said. “But who knows what he gets up to outside of school.”

Her words stuck with you. Because you wanted to know what Eddie got up to outside of school.

You found yourself fantasizing about it, dreaming about it. When Eddie first started making his appearances in your dreams, it shocked you. You had never been attracted to him until that night. You dreamt of him shirtless, tattoos exposed on his lithe body. He rolled a joint with his dexterous fingers and lit it, taking a long drag before handing it to you.

“Your turn, princess,��� he’d said in a lower, much more suave voice than you’d ever actually heard from him. You grabbed for the joint but he held it out of your reach, bringing it back to his own lips and breathing deeply before leaning in and breathing the smoke out into your mouth. You had moaned against his lips, feeling his smirk against your own mouth.

He looked like a sex god. Sometimes he would grab his guitar and play you a song. Sometimes he would undress you and eat your pussy all night, other times he would make you worship his cock until he was satisfied and cumming all over your face. You especially liked it when he held you down and fucked you like your body begged to be fucked.

Then you’d wake up in a cold sweat, clit throbbing between your legs in a way that had you desperate to go back to sleep and let him finish you off. You’d have to face him at school again, just the usual nerdy guy you remembered.

You figured you had to make a move.

You approached him during lunch, short little green and yellow cheer skirt swaying as you crossed the room towards him. You caught his attention about halfway across the room and he did a double take, wide eyes landing on you as his friends turned to see what had distracted him.

“Hey, Eddie,” you greeted, a small smile on your lips.

“Uh, h-hey,” he said, smoothing a hand through his wild hair. It didn’t do much to tame the curls. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping maybe we could meet up after school?” You asked, your voice obviously flirtatious. One of his friends - Gareth? - raised his eyebrows at him, looking between the two of you with a barely contained smirk.

“Oh! Yeah, for sure,” he said. “The usual? In the woods behind the school?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. “See you later…Eddie.”

You made a point to sway your hips as you walked away, and you could feel Eddie’s and his friends’ eyes on you. Your ass, specifically. You knew what you had been blessed with, and you weren’t afraid to use it.

That day after school, you snuck off and headed down the familiar path through the wooded area. The leaves crunched beneath your white sneakers as you walked, the October chill making you pull your sweater tighter around your body. No one was at the meetup spot when you arrived, so you sat on top of the table, legs crossed as you waited.

It wasn’t long before the crunching of leaves gave away another presence. Eddie approached the table, eyes locked on your form. God, those legs in that little skirt. He thought about what it might be like to spread them, to breathe in your scent and bury his face between your thighs. He had frequent fantasies of stealing a pair of your panties during practice and bringing them home, bringing them up to his face and breathing deeply, wrapping them around his cock as he fisted it, spilling his cum all over the pretty material. He had no idea what your panties actually looked like, but surely they were as perfect as you.

He carried his metal lunchbox, stocked with weed. His gait was slow as he got closer to you, taking his sweet time to drink in your appearance until he’d had his fill. When he reached the table, he sat the lunch pail down on the wood with a bang.

“What can I get you today, m’lady?” He asked, a playful smile on his face as he performed an exaggerated bow. “A half for 20, perhaps?”

“I’ll take a half,” you said. “And..do you have any more of that Special K?

Eddie slowly looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, back at the house. I’ll have to get it. I could bring it tomorrow.”

You shifted from your position, crossing the other leg, and Eddie just about combusted on the spot as he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties. Pink and lacy, exactly what he pictured you’d wear. It completely threw him off.

“Hello? Eddie?”

Your voice snapped Eddie back to reality. “Shit, sorry. What?”

“I said you could bring it tomorrow.” You smiled. “Or I could ride with you to get it then. I just can’t tonight because of practice…”

Eddie swallowed. You really wanted to ride with him back to his place? Alone? “Uh, okay, sure.”

You debated making your next move, wondering if it would be too far, but you went for it anyway. “So, Eddie…I was just wondering. Do you ever take any payment that’s not…money?”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Like what? Sometimes my car guy does work for me in exchange for weed, but…” The look on your face told him that’s not what you’d been talking about. “Oh, jesus, no. You don’t have to do that. If you need me to spot you, I can-“

“But what if I want to?”

Eddie just stared at you. “You want to…?”

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You spread your legs, reaching for his waist and pulling him into you. Your hand dragged across his cock over his jeans, feeling him already hard and even bigger than you’d imagined. “Why don’t you just let me make you feel good?”

Eddie’s knees felt weak, his heart thundering in his chest as you pulled him close to you. This couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d had this exact dream before. His hands rested on your thighs to hold himself upright - god, your soft, bare thighs… He started to speak, stopping to clear his throat. “You really don’t have to do this-“

You squeezed his cock through the material, making him moan out loudly. “Does this show you how badly I want to do this?”

His voice cracked when he spoke. “I- yeah, I think I get the idea.” He looked around, like he was expecting someone to jump out from behind a tree and literally catch him with his pants down. “You’re- you’re fucking with me, right? This is all just a big joke?”

“Eddie, I would never do that,” you said earnestly. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. “Have you really never done this before?”

“I-“ Eddie backed up, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, I haven’t, okay? I’m not like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with-“

“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I just…I haven’t.”

“Why not?” you asked again. “Are you into girls? Because it’s okay if you’re not-“

“Yes, I’m into girls!” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, like he was frustrated. “I haven’t…done things like that before.”

“You haven’t done things like this, or you haven’t done things at all?”

Eddie was quiet. Then, finally- “At all.”

You reached for him, your hand grazing his. He startled at the touch, the electricity that shot through his body at the smallest feeling. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, Eddie. I just want to make you feel good.”

He looked back at you, letting you pull him close again. “Why?”

“I’ve been…thinking about you,” you admitted.

“Thinking about me?”

“Stop being so coy,” you teased him. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

Eddie shook his head. “No one thinks that.”

“I do.” You said it easily, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Thinking about all the things I want to do to you…all the things I want you to do to me…”

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and breathless. “Like what?”

“Just thinkin’ about you, and what those long fingers can do,” you said, fingers trailing along his own. “About your mouth, your tongue.” You ran your hands down his chest. “About how big your cock is, how you’d use it…”

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe when you talked like that. “You…you think those things about me?”

“Of course I do.” You brought his fingers up to your lips, gently pressing them there as you smirked up at him. Your tongue darted out and licked his fingertips and he groaned just under his breath. “I think about you all the time.”

“Why have you never, uh,” he cleared his throat again. “Never said anything before?”

You shrugged, continuing to tease the older boy. “Guess I just got the nerve up.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re like the hottest girl in school. Why would you ever be afraid to ask someone out? Especially me?”

“You think I’m the hottest girl in school?” You smirked, placing his finger in your mouth and sucking on it. His knees buckled, his cock impossibly hard in his jeans at this point.

Your hands roamed down his chest until you reached his belt buckle. You looked up at him for permission, his heavy lidded gaze glued to yours. He nodded once, and you undid the belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down painstakingly slowly.

Eddie whimpered as you freed his cock, the massive, thick length catching you by surprise. Eddie reached for the table to hold himself up as you wrapped your fist around it, slowly stroking him.

“H-oh,” he breathed out, hips jerking forward into your touch. His tip leaked precum already, the head a deep red and cock achingly hard. He twitched in your hold, telling you he wanted, needed more.

“Why don’t you lean against the table?” You offered, sliding off and leaving the room for him to sit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he said, moving to take your spot. He leaned against the wood, his long legs stretching to the ground. You sunk to your knees in the dirt in front of him, stroking him as you stuck your tongue out to lick his tip. He groaned again, knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the table.

You wrapped your plush lips around his cock and began taking him deeper down your throat. He cried out at the feeling, one of his hands moving to hold onto the back of your head.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, head tilting back but not wanting to miss any part of what you were doing. “Fuck. Yeah, that’s…that feels nice…”

You swirled your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the head when you’d come up. He was a moaning, writhing mess above you as he thrusted his hips into your mouth, and you were pretty sure they would hear him up at the school if he kept this up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whined, his chest heaving. “Shit, that’s so good.”

You brought a hand up to stroke the seam of his balls, and his stomach muscles clenched, his cock twitching in your mouth. You massaged them in your hand, and Eddie fell apart above you, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna- gonna c-um, shit shit shit-“

That was all the warning you got before Eddie was shooting ropes of his cum into your mouth, down your throat, as he moaned loudly. It surprised you a little and you gagged at first, but swallowed every drop he gave you. You pulled off of him with a pop and he watched the spit trail connecting your lips to his cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed when you stood, dirt tracks on your neat white cheerleading socks and your bare knees. He awkwardly tucked himself back away as you brushed the dirt off your skin. “Um…thank you?”

You giggled. “No problem…Did you like it?”

“Did I-“ he huffed a laugh. “I mean, you made my dreams come true, baby. That was pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

“Yeah? Your dreams came true?” You teased as you leaned forward, rubbing his thighs over his jeans. His eyes shamelessly lingered on your body.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed.

“I liked it, too,” you hummed. “Made me sooo wet.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It was hot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, wanna see?” Eddie just watched you so you stood, turning around and bending over while lifting your tiny skirt over your ass. The small wet spot on your panties was visible from behind you, confirmed by the low groan Eddie let out.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“I feel bad I didn’t get to make you feel good,” Eddie said when you stood and returned to the table, sliding onto it next to him.

“Next time,” you promised him.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” He raised his eyebrows, like he expected this to be a one and done thing between you.

“Well, yeah,” you gently nudged his shoulder. “I don’t really just suck dick in the forest and move on with my life.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “That’s good for me then, I guess.” He snapped his fingers as a memory came back to him. “Oh! You’re coming to my place tomorrow? For the K?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Why, you got something planned?”

He smirked but just shrugged. “Nah. Nothing planned.”

“I’ll take the half, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached into his pail and pulled the baggie out. “I’d feel bad charging you for this now, but I also feel bad not charging you for it.”

You laughed - “I mean, I won’t complain if you don’t want to charge me this time.”

“Then it’s on the house,” he smiled at you. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you chuckled. “I wanted to. Believe me.” You stood from the table, shoving the baggie of weed into your bag. “I’ve got to get going…practice.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie seemed bummed to see you go, like he wanted to ask you to stay longer or tag along to watch you at practice. “You got extra, uh…socks?”

You looked down, sheepish grin on your face at the sight of the dirt. “Yeah. I do.” You turned as you began walking back to the school. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ed!”

“Bye!” He called after you, feeling like a total idiot.

Back in the school, you shed your bag in your practice locker and changed into a clean pair of cheer socks. By the time you joined Chrissy in the gym, she was giving you a knowing smirk.

“And where were you?” She asked innocently. She definitely clocked the remaining dirt on your knees.

“Just…doing some shopping.”

“With Eddie?”

You blushed. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled. “…Was he a virgin?”

You gave her a look. “Not for long.”

Chrissy practically squealed with laughter, falling over backwards. As the coach came over and started practice, you focused, getting your mind centered on practice and not a certain big-dicked virgin metalhead. But as you performed your tricks, tumbling down the mat and flying as your teammates tossed you into the air, your mind was locked on big brown eyes only.

The next day, you had plans to meet Eddie after practice and go to his place. You headed into the gym in your uniform with your bag over your shoulder, ready to focus on your stunts, but you nearly tripped over your own feet when you saw Eddie sitting in the bleachers.

No one watched cheerleading practice besides a couple of the girls’ boyfriends, so it was a shock to see him there. And you knew he was there for you. He gave you a small wave as your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help laughing.

You went on with practice, performing your back handsprings and tosses as a flyer. Eddie watched the entire time, his attention fully on you. His eyes followed you everywhere you went, amazed by the stunts you were able to pull off. Every now and then he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties beneath your skirt, and that was enough for him.

After practice, you lingered until all your teammates were gone. Eddie watched you curiously, wondering what you were up to. Finally when the last of your cheer teammates had left, you nodded towards the locker room, and Eddie’s eyes widened, but he jumped up to follow you anyway.

Eddie trailed after you into the locker room, watching the sway of your hips and ass as you walked. It was deserted, all of your fellow cheerleaders having already showered and left. You stripped out of your uniform right in front of Eddie, pulling your top off and leaving yourself bare chested. Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, your bare tits on full display for his eyes. You took off your skirt and panties next, throwing them on the bench.

“Let me go take a shower, then we can go.”

Eddie watched as you turned and left towards the shower. His gaze dropped to the pile of clothes on the bench - particularly the pink panties beneath your skirt. He thought about it - really thought about it, because he’s not that much of a creep - but he snatched them, stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

A few minutes later you came back wrapped in a towel with one wrapped around your hair as well. He watched you, amazed, as you grabbed some clean clothes from your locker. You dropped the towel right in front of him and his eyes took in every inch of your body as you pulled on your underwear then a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Ready to go?” You asked. Eddie had to shake himself out of his lustful stupor to answer your question.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You followed him out to the parking lot, duffel bag over your shoulder. He led you to his van, opening the passenger door with a bow. “Ladies first.”

You climbed in with a giggle, buckling your seatbelt as Eddie shut the door for you. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van. You watched out the window and listened to Eddie’s heavy music as he drove to his trailer in Forest Hills.

“Welcome to my castle,” he said as he opened the front door of the trailer for you. You gave him a smile as you walked in, seeing the living room decorated with baseball caps, the kitchen littered with trash and dirty dishes. “Sorry, the maid took the week off,” Eddie said as he quickly cleaned up as much as he could. You didn’t mind.

“You can come back, if you want,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the bedroom at the end of the hall. “It’s a mess, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured him.

You followed him into his room, taking a seat on his bed. He went searching through his stuff, finally surfacing with a baggie of powder clutched between his fingers. “Special K. Peaceful bliss, just moments away.”

You took it from him, passing him the money. You opened the baggie and collected some on your finger, bringing it to your nose to snort the powder. You held some out to Eddie, who snorted it off your finger as well.

A comfortable peace washed over your body quickly. You were feeling good as you laid back on the bed, the euphoria washing over you. Eddie laid on the bed next to you.

“This is some good shit,” you laughed. Eddie laughed, too, turning to you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” He said, voice lowering as he looked over your body in his bed. “You are so fucking hot.”

You giggled. “You’re hot, too.”

“That’s not true,” he said, suddenly shy. “No one thinks that.”

“I do,” you said, your hand resting on the side of his face. “I think you’re so hot. And kind, and handsome, and funny and interesting.”

Eddie leaned closer to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and he was so close now his nose was brushing yours.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he told you as his lips moved closer and closer to yours. “My little slut. You liked sucking my cock out in the woods behind the school, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed against him, his lips now grazing yours, pressing together in a needy kiss. “Loved sucking your cock. So fucking big, so sexy.”

Eddie moaned as he kissed you, his hand roaming your body, up your shirt and over your breasts. “Can I taste you, princess?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the question, mind hazy from his kisses.

“Can I taste you?” He asked again, lips moving down to nip at your neck. “Wanna taste that pussy, princess. I know it’s so good, so fucking sweet and wet. Please let me have a taste.”

“Okay,” you agreed as his kisses trailed lower, his lips moving down over your breasts and stomach, to your thighs. He settled himself between your legs, kissing all over your thighs and over your core through your light purple panties. He could see the wet spot on them, it made his mouth water with his desire to taste you.

He slid your panties down your legs, your pussy finally revealed to him. It was everything he imagined, so fucking hot, and bare all for him. He dove in, tongue sliding through your folds to taste you. You moaned, hand gripping into his wild hair as he devoured you.

Eddie didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but he was eager and excited and that made it even better. He teased your clit with his tongue, wrapping his lips around it and sucking lightly. Then he moved lower, tongue teasing your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

You moaned, hips bucking up against Eddie’s mouth. “Feels so good,” you moaned, hands trailing over your nipples as Eddie ate your pussy like a man starved.

He started grinding his hips against the bed as he ate you, searching for friction against his hard cock. He rutted frantically against the bed, tongue buried in you as his cock throbbed in his pants, moaning into you as he neared release himself. All from the thought of what he was doing to you, the reality of having his face buried in your cunt, his rock hard dick rubbing against the comforter.

“Eddie, I’m g’na cum,” you moaned desperately as Eddie worked his tongue over your core even more, fingers pulling at his brown locks.

“Cum for me baby, please,” he begged, fully losing himself between your legs, tongue working against your pussy somehow expertly as your release neared.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eddie! Oh god, Eddie!” You cried out as you came, hips bucking against his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. He kept thrusting against the bed, but hearing you moan his name as you pulled his hair and grinded against his mouth set him off and then he was moaning, cumming in his jeans as you came down beneath his tongue.

He let you ride out your orgasm and then he pulled back, cheeks bright red and a wet spot on his jeans from where he came.

“Did you…?” You asked, looking down at his lap.

“Uh…yeah,” he said shyly, knowing there was no getting out of this with a lie.

You giggled, but there was no judgement behind it. “That’s pretty hot, honestly,”

“It is?” He asked, still blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You trailed a finger down his shoulder, over his chest. He shuddered.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I just…can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

It was flattering. You loved that he was so weak for you. It made you feel powerful. “You’re so sexy, Eddie.”

He trembled beneath your touch.

That night, when Eddie was alone, he pulled your panties from his pocket. He wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed him take them, or if you just hadn’t cared. But he had them, and now he was bringing them up to his nose, breathing in your scent with a groan. He unbuttoned his pants and took his cock out, wrapping the panties around his shaft.

He thought of you. He thought about you wearing these panties during cheerleading practice, the way you’d do your jumps and spread your legs for anyone to see. The way you looked him in the eye just before you did your splits, like you wanted him watching specifically.

He began stroking his cock with the panties wrapped around his length, thinking of you. He thought about eating your pussy, the way you had come undone beneath his tongue. The way you had tasted.

He moaned your name, imagining you were in the room with him now. Imagining you were here riding his cock, tits bouncing as you bounced on him, taking every inch of his dick. Eddie stroked his cock faster, his release approaching faster and faster.

He came to the thought of his cock disappearing into your tight little pussy, the thought of finally fucking you. The way you’d be so desperate for it, legs spread wide as he sunk into your cunt, tits bouncing when he snapped his hips into you. It was enough to send ropes of cum shooting over his fist and all over the panties and his thighs and stomach.

Eddie was down bad for you.

It was a couple of days later when you approached Eddie at school again. His face lit up when he saw you, frantically making room at the lunch table and pushing Gareth out of the way.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asked as Eddie shoved him to the side, but his eyes went wide in understanding when he saw you approaching.

“Hey, Eds,” you greeted him, hand sliding around his shoulders in a way that gave him goosebumps. He looked up at you adoringly, big brown eyes full of something like love.

“Hey,” he greeted you back. “What’s up?”

You leaned over so you were closer to him, leaning over the table with your cleavage in your uniform top right in front of his face. “Do you have any shrooms?”

“S-shrooms?” Eddie asked like he’d never heard the word, too distracted by what was in front of him. “Oh, yeah. I do. At the house.”

“Could I ride with you after school to get them…?”

Eddie swallowed, completely lost in a trance, forgetting about his friends at the table watching this whole interaction. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool,” you smiled. “I’ll see you after school then?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie’s gaze was locked on you as you walked away, that little cheer skirt so short he could just barely catch a glimpse of-

“Munson!”

Eddie snapped out of his you trance to rejoin reality and his friends trying to catch his attention. “What?”

“What the hell is that all about?” Gareth asked. “She’s been talking to you a lot lately.”

Eddie blushed, looking down at his tray of food. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jeff said. “Cheerleaders don’t just talk to us.”

“She just wants to buy some stuff. That’s all.”

The guys exchanged a look. “Soooo,” Gareth drew out the word, “are you gonna tell us who gave you all those hickies?”

Eddie froze, suddenly self conscious. He didn’t even realize they’d been noticeable. He pulled his leather jacket higher around his neck.

“Oh, come on, you can’t pretend we didn’t already see them,” Grant laughed. “Just tell us!”

Eddie looked around. “Okay, yes, it was her. But shut up! Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The guys all buzzed with excitement, talking over each other as they leaned in closer to Eddie. “How the hell did that happen? What did you guys do? Tell us everything.”

Eddie shook his head. “Uh uh. No way. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

“When I kissed Carla, you made me tell you everything!” Gareth protested. “Don’t be lame.”

“You kissed Carla Peters for 30 seconds in 7th grade,” Eddie reminded him. “I think we’re dealing with a difference in maturity level here.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I would tell you if I lost my virginity. It’s a momentous occasion.”

“I didn’t lose my virginity,” Eddie whispered. “…Yet.”

After school, Eddie watched your cheer practice again. The other girls took notice this time, giving you strange looks. You heard them whispering - “What is that Freak doing here? What a creep.” You felt kind of bad for subjecting him to the gossip of your teammates, but they all shut up when you left with your arm linked in his.

He led you to his van, opening the door for you once again. This time on the ride to his house you chatted, giggling at the jokes Eddie would make. He tried to give you a crash course on D&D, but it was all going over your head.

At the house he held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, taking a seat on his couch. “Um…I know I have those shrooms somewhere…give me a sec.”

You looked all around the living room as Eddie took off to his bedroom, searching through drawers and cabinets. You examined the wall of hats, all the different places they came from and things they represented. By the time Eddie came back with the baggie in his hand, you had just looked at the last one.

“Got ‘em,” Eddie said, handing you the bag. You slipped it into your purse. “Uh…do you want to stay and hang out?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, watching as he sat down on the couch. You slowly walked over next to him, his eyes on the way your legs moved beneath your skirt. He sure was weak for the uniform, you noticed.

You stood in front of him, looking down at his nervous form. He looked up at you with wide eyes, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands as you stood over him.

You trailed your hands down his arms, reaching his hands and placing them on your hips. He gulped, like he was in shock. But his grip tightened on your hips, feeling the material of your cheer skirt under his hands, wanting to push it up and-

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Eddie accidentally let out a low groan, betraying just how far gone he was for you already. You could feel how hard he was, the bulge through his jeans pressing up against your core. You wanted him, so wet your panties were soaked. You needed him.

“Eddie,” you whined, moving your hips against him. He groaned again, grip tightening even more.

“You look so fucking hot,” Eddie said through a clenched jaw, like he was trying to hold himself together. “You’re…a fucking dream, Jesus Christ-“

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, biting gently and making Eddie groan again. His hands were holding onto you as tight as possible, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You can touch me,” you said, wanting him to. You wanted to feel his hands all over, wanted to feel him. Every part of him.

He let go of his death grip on your hips and slowly roamed down your thighs as you continued kissing his neck, feeling the bare skin of your legs. He remembered what it was like to taste you, and the thought only made him harder in his jeans. He wanted to do it again and again.

Next his hands moved up, slowly feeling your sides until he reached your tits. They filled his hands perfectly, making him moan as he massaged them. He was desperate to get his mouth on them, to wrap his lips around your nipples, to suck on them.

He reached down and pulled your cheer top up until he was dropping it on his living room floor. He fumbled with your bra clasp for a while before he was able to remove that, too. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your naked tits, mouth watering. He dove in, wrapping his lips around your nipple and making you gasp.

“Eddie,” you moaned, pleasantly surprised at his boldness. He was learning fast.

“So fucking sexy,” he moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation sending chills through your body. “Can’t believe you’re on my lap right now. Pretty little princess has a thing for the Freak, huh?”

You giggled lightly, eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of Eddie’s mouth. “When the Freak is this hot…”

Eddie chuckled. His hands gripped your ass as he switched to the other breast. He guided your hips to grind against him, as if it was possible for him to get any harder than he already was. He’d never been this hard in his life.

You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint, leaning forward to pull it off. Your hands roamed his tattooed chest, feeling the muscles of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach.

“Do you want to take me to your room?” you asked him, your voice a mere whisper against his lips.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Eddie said, then you were squealing as he stood, lifting you up. He stumbled a little and you laughed, but he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, leaving the discarded clothes on the living room floor.

He carefully dropped you down onto his messy bed, landing with a giggle. He kicked his shoes off and quickly undid his belt. You watched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs. You could really see the size of his erection with nothing but his boxers on, and it was just as impressive as you remembered.

Next he slid your shoes off, leaving the white cheer socks in place. He slowly climbed up your body, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs. With you now fully naked, he looked at you wide eyed. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to fuck you.”

“Can’t believe you’re about to fuck me, or can’t believe you’re about to lose your virginity?” you teased with a laugh.

“Both,” Eddie smiled. He placed kisses all over your skin, his tongue darting out to taste every now and then. You were like a drug - he was utterly addicted to you already.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him as he reached your lips again, kissing along your jaw and cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

“Uh, I do, actually,” he said sheepishly. “Gareth bought them for me as a joke. Now I guess joke’s on him, because they’re getting used well before he gets to touch a girl.”

You laughed at that - “Well, works out for us, I guess.”

Eddie reached over into the drawer of his bedside table, pulling the unopened box out. He felt a sense of pride as he opened it, pulling out one of the foil packets. This was really happening. He had a pretty girl naked in his bed. Finally.

You pushed his boxers down as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his cock just like he’d learned in health class. He was grateful Gareth got the biggest size as part of the joke - but it fit perfectly. Ha.

Eddie leaned over you with one arm by your head and the other between your bodies, pumping his cock a couple times as he lined it up at your entrance. He took a deep breath he hoped you didn’t notice, then he started pushing inside. You gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping his bedsheets.

“Jesus, Ed,” you breathed, his cock nearly taking your breath away already.

“What?” he asked, stopping his movements. “Are you okay? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “You’re just fucking huge. But keep going, please.”

His ego properly stroked, he began sinking further into you. He was barely holding it together, a whimper involuntarily escaping from his lips. You were so unbelievably tight, hot, and wet…it felt better than his fist had on his best nights, and watching your face contorting in pleasure every inch he sunk into you was unreal. He had to shut his eyes to keep from cumming right that second.

He bottomed out, and you had never felt so full in your life. None of the guys you’d been with had been this big. Eddie reached down and spread your legs wide, holding them open as he pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you. He fucked into you quickly, filling you completely with every thrust.

“God, you- you’re so flexible, fuck-“

His pleasure-drunk rambling would have made you laugh if he wasn’t currently splitting you wide open with his cock, and looking unbelievably sexy while doing it. He threw his head back, long hair flying backwards. You raked your nails down his chest, making him moan loudly.

“Feels so good, Eddie, fuck, even better than my dreams-“

“You dream about me?” Eddie huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck, princess, I dream about you too.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak just before a particularly hard thrust hit your bundle of nerves perfectly, making your back arch off his bed and the words on your tongue turn into a loud, high moan.

Fuck, the noises you were making were better than any porn he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how he was still going, he’d felt right on the edge since he got inside of you.

“Your pussy is fucking incredible, holy shit-“

Eddie’s hips stuttered into you, his rhythm faltering. He adjusted you into a mating press, fucking you wildly as the most pathetic yet sexy moans left his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you moaned, gripping onto his arms tightly. They were firmer and bigger than you expected, and you could feel his muscles contracting as he put all his effort into fucking you.

“I’m getting real close, baby,” he said, his voice strained. His arms were starting to tremble, his thrusts more frantic and needy. “But I need you to come first.”

You reached down between your sweaty bodies and rubbed circles on your clit, your body writhing beneath him. Eddie let out another pathetic moan at the sight, his rhythm faltering once again, his thrusts getting harder yet slower, hips snapping into you aggressively.

“Ohmygod, Eddie, Eddie, fuck! Yes yes yes, keep fucking me just like that-“

Your orgasm washed over you in a wave, hips grinding up against Eddie’s thrusts as you continued rubbing your clit. Your other hand pinched at your nipples, and the show sent Eddie reeling.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m…I-I love you! Shit-” Eddie cried out as he came, his eyes squeezing shut as his cum shot into you, filling you up with his spend. He held onto you tightly as he came, it felt endless, like he could cum forever. His body was trembling, hands shaking from their grip on your legs.

Your mouth dropped open in shock at his words, but Eddie didn’t process it until he came down from his high, breathing heavily on top of you.

“Oh, shit-“ Eddie said, sitting up and looking at you with a horrified expression. “I did not mean to say that, I don’t-“

You just stared at him, and then you burst out laughing. Eddie blushed a deep red as you laughed, but eventually he joined in. The two of you giggled together, you leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Eds. I’m not upset.” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s a little early for that, but I like the sentiment.”

Eddie laughed. “I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.”

“The sex was that good?” you teased.

“Oh yeah.”

The next day at school, you stuck close by Eddie. You had decided to try dating, and you were unbelievably happy. You walked hand in hand, drawing the attention of absolutely every Hawkins High student. Chrissy’s jaw dropped when she saw the two of you, but then she gave you a bright smile - you knew she’d be in your corner no matter what.

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You had never felt so obsessed with a guy before, but you were head over heels for Eddie, and you didn’t care who knew or what anyone thought.

At lunch, you got your food and headed for the Hellfire table. You took a seat right next to Eddie, sharing the end of the table. Eddie beamed, putting his arm around you and pulling you into a kiss that was far too heated for the school cafeteria. His tongue slipped into your mouth, pressing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

The guys stared. Gareth looked at the others - “What the fuck?” he mouthed. Jeff just looked at him wide eyed, while Grant looked impressed. Mike and Dustin looked at each other, shocked.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized you had an audience. “Hi! I’m so sorry.”

Eddie didn’t look sorry at all. He looked happier than the guys had ever seen him. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said with pride, introducing you by name.

The guys thought this had to be a joke. There’s no way you and Eddie had really hooked up, and there was no way you were together now. It made no sense. Yet here you were, all over each other like no one was watching.

You and Eddie shared your lunches with each other as you ate, the sickeningly sweet display holding the attention of every guy at the table.

No one said anything for a while, and you and Eddie were so caught up in your own little world, neither of you noticed. Finally, you got up to go get some napkins, and Gareth took his chance. He cleared his throat, and Eddie looked over at his best friend with a confused expression.

“Care to explain?” Gareth asked, the rest of the table watching on with interest.

“Explain what…?” Eddie asked, genuinely lost.

Gareth did a dramatic gesture towards you. “That.”

“What’s there to explain?” Eddie played with a piece of his food before popping it into his mouth. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Since when?” Gareth asked. “What the fuck has been going on?”

Eddie looked at your figure from across the cafeteria before turning back to his friends. “Since last night. She came over and we…had a nice night, and I asked her to be my girlfriend.”

“Did you lose your virginity?” Grant asked, the only one of the group who seemed excited for his friend.

Eddie glanced at Mike and Dustin, who were lost in their own conversation now. He nodded, and Grant held out a hand for a high five, which Eddie sheepishly accepted.

“Did she buy from you?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah…why?”

Gareth looked around again before he spoke. “I just…you don’t think she’s only messing around with you for the drugs, right? Cheerleaders don’t talk to us, they definitely don’t sleep with us.”

His words set a fire in Eddie, making him absolutely furious. “What did you just say about her?”

Gareth had never seen Eddie so angry, like flames flickering behind his deep brown eyes. ”Nothing, man. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You came back to the table then, all smiles and totally oblivious to the tension at the table. “I got you some too, baby,” you said softly to Eddie, handing him a couple of napkins. Eddie gave Gareth another harsh look, but moved on.

When you’d finished eating, Eddie kissed you again, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Wanna get out of here, baby?”

You giggled. “Where to?”

“My van?” he proposed, voice low and seductive yet still fully audible to the rest of the table. Gareth pretended to gag.

“Sounds good,” you agreed with a mischievous smile, standing along with Eddie. He grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed from the building, leaving Eddie’s friends dumbfounded. Chrissy gave you a smile as you left, but her boyfriend, Jason, scowled and whispered something to his friends.

In the parking lot, Eddie opened his van, letting you climb inside before he joined you. In the back you immediately met in a heated kiss, pulling at each other’s clothes and touching each other everywhere.

You pushed Eddie’s jacket off before tugging at his shirt, smirking when he quickly pulled it over his head. He pulled your panties off, leaving your cheer skirt on. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and pushed them down just enough to free his cock.

“Turn over for me, baby,” he said, pumping his cock in his fist. “Want that cute little ass in the air, ready for me.”

You did as Eddie said, moving onto your hands and knees before lowering your upper half to the floor of the van. Eddie groaned at the sight, hands rubbing over the skin of your ass beneath your skirt. He hiked the skirt up around your hips, leaving you exposed to him.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him.

Eddie froze. “Shit. No, I didn’t bring one.”

You thought for a moment. “It’s okay. I want you anyway.”

Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened. “Are you sure, princess?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice assured. “I want it, Eds. I don’t care if you don’t have one, I need you in me.”

Eddie groaned, pressing his hard cock against you. He thrusted his hips lightly, grinding himself against your ass. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, princess. You’re fucking unreal.”

You felt him press against your pussy, sliding between your folds and collecting your wetness on his cock. The feeling was like heaven for him, the memories of being inside you came rushing back, making his dick throb. He had to have you again. And this time he’d get to feel you raw? The thought alone had his knees weak.

He pushed the head of his cock inside you, the stretch already too good. You both moaned as he filled you, inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out he wasted no time thrusting into you again and again, a quick pace rocking the van right there in the school parking lot for anyone who came outside to see.

The old van squeaked as it rocked back and forth with the power of Eddie’s frantic thrusting, the windows fogged up from the heat you two created together. He used his grip on your hips to pull your body back into him every time he thrusted into you, making them all the more intense.

He reached forward and pulled on your ponytail, jerking your head back and making you moan. “Eddie!”

“Oh fuck, you like that, baby? You want me to be a little rough?”

“Yes, fuck,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he thoroughly pounded you from the back. When he suddenly pulled out you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly flipped you over.

Eddie sat up on his knees, throwing his shirt off before he pulled the handcuffs off his belt. Your eyes widened as he looped them through the bottom of the driver’s seat and attached them to your wrists, pinning them above your head.

The way your body stretched with your arms up like that was a sight to behold. It put your tits on full display, his hands grabbing for them the second he started fucking into you again. The angle he had your hips with him up on his knees was intoxicating, his cock hitting your bundle of nerves with every thrust.

“Please, Eddie, harder,” you begged, your voice a whiney moan. Eddie obliged immediately, the slapping noise of your skin meeting filling the space.

“Fuck, look so pretty like this, princess,” he huffed, out of breath from his vigorous movements and the heat you were creating in the stuffy van. “Never thought you’d be tied up in the back of the freak’s van, taking his cock and begging for more, huh?”

No, you didn’t. You were just as surprised as anyone at your current situation.

“You’re so good, too,” Eddie moaned. “Your pussy is so perfect. Fits my cock just right. I’m so deep in you, baby, fuck!”

Eddie was struggling to hold it together, the feeling of you wrapped around him without the barrier of the condom was almost too much to bear. He spread your legs wide and leaned over you, burying his face in your neck.

He whimpered into your neck as he fucked you, his shallow thrusts quick and desperate. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his sweaty body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him even closer. It was so intimate, and Eddie was losing it.

He cried out as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, hips rutting against you as he pumped all his cum inside, balls tightening, giving you everything he had. He moaned your name again and again, shuddering on top of you.

As he came down and pulled out of you, freeing you from the handcuffs, he realized you didn’t get to finish. “Oh, shit, baby. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you-“

“Eddie, it’s really okay,” you giggled, not upset at all. “I still enjoyed myself. I don’t have to- oh!”

Eddie cut you off by diving between your legs, his tongue licking between your folds. He could taste himself where his cum leaked out of you, but he didn’t mind. You had never experienced anything like this before.

You moaned, writhing beneath his tongue, pulling on his long, soft hair. He devoured you, tongue moving up to flick over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. His tongue was so long and so talented, he’d never done anything with a girl before you and you knew this, but you would never have guessed by the way he ate pussy.

Eddie moaned against you, slipping two of his fingers inside as his mouth focused on your clit. He pumped them in and out of you much like he’d fucked you, and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around his fingers, moaning little “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”s as you got closer and closer.

You came on his tongue, pulling hard on his curls and nearly screaming his name. If anyone was out in the parking lot, they’d know exactly what you were doing and who was doing it to you.

Eddie kept his movements up until you were pushing him away, overstimulated. He moved back up your body and kissed you hard, both of you smiling against each others’ lips.

Eddie tucked his spent cock away back in his jeans and collapsed against the wall of the van, still shirtless. You pulled your panties back on, straightening your uniform. “Do you wanna smoke?”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed easily, reaching into the front and pulling out an already rolled joint. He sparked it up with his lighter and took a drag, passing it to you.

As you smoked together, laughing and talking, Eddie felt like he was completely in love. But in the back of his head, Gareth’s words stuck with him, nagging. He didn’t really think you were only with him for the drugs, he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him as he did about you. Yet something about it wouldn’t leave him alone.

After practice and dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and soft short shorts, you walked to Eddie’s van with his arm around you. Your teammates gave you strange looks, but you didn’t care. You were happy.

“Hey!” You heard Chrissy’s voice calling your name as you were just leaving the building. You and Eddie both turned.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile. “What’s up?”

Chrissy looked awkward, uncomfortable. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” You looked up at Eddie and he smiled at you, bending down and placing a kiss to your lips. “Be right back.”

You followed Chrissy back into the locker room, which was deserted. Chrissy sighed, pacing back and forth.

“What’s up, Chris?” you asked, worried.

“It’s just…” She fiddled with her fingers. her nerves obvious. Like she was doing something she didn’t want to be doing. “Jason doesn’t like that you’re seeing Eddie.”

You blinked at her. Then, a laugh. “Chris, I love you to death, but I don’t really give a fuck what your boyfriend thinks.”

She winced, like she knew that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, but…” She sighed again. “Jason thinks that it ruins the image of the cheer team. He thinks as long as you’re dating Eddie, you shouldn’t cheer. And he got the coach to agree.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart beat loud in your ears, your hands starting to shake. “What?”

Chrissy looked pained. “I know. I tried to talk to him-“

“Why does Jason Carver have any say over who’s on the cheerleading team?” you asked, getting worked up. “This is bullshit. I’m team captain! And what’s wrong with Eddie? Besides that he’s a little different?” You scoffed. “You guys are so close minded it’s sickening.”

Chrissy looked as if you’d struck her. “It’s not me, I promise. I tried. But everyone else agreed.”

You felt sick to your stomach. You hadn’t felt as happy as you do with Eddie in…well, ever. You couldn’t choose between two things you loved.

Loved?

“I’ve got to go,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe try to talk to your boyfriend again. Because mine hasn’t done anything wrong.”

You turned and left, catching up with Eddie. He wrapped his arm around you again with a smile, but he could tell something was wrong. “What happened, baby?”

“Nothing,” you said. You didn’t want to talk about it or make Eddie feel bad. And you were sure it wouldn’t really happen - right?

At Eddie’s trailer, it looked like he had cleaned up for you. He seemed nervous, even as you fell to the couch with lips locked together in a passionate make out session. His hand was under your shirt, grasping at your tits.

“Need you again,” he mumbled hurriedly as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Need to be inside you.”

“You sure no one will be home?” you asked, giggling as he leaned forward and kissed at your tits.

“Yeah. My uncle’s at work, we’re fine.”

He pulled your shorts and panties down before shoving his own jeans and boxers down. He spread your legs wide, neither of you caring about a condom this time. He sunk into you, snapping his hips into you wildly. He was desperate for you, no matter how many times he had you.

He groaned loudly, face in your neck again while he pounded into you. Your nails scratched down his shoulders, eyes rolling back at the bliss he was providing with nothing but his cock.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you heard the key in the front door, or the door opening. However you did hear the shocked gasp that had Eddie pulling out of you in a hurry, covering your body with a throw pillow and yanking his jeans up.

“Jesus, Ed!” the older man exclaimed, covering his eyes. “On the couch??”

“Sorry, shit, sorry! What are you doing here?” Eddie buckled his jeans back up as you hurriedly redressed yourself. “I thought you’d be gone all night!”

“Forgot my lunch,” the man said, his voice gruff. “‘n just because I work nights doesn’t mean you can…do that in the living room, for god’s sake, Ed.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said again, his cheeks bright red. “You can uncover your eyes, we’re okay.”

The man cautiously lowered his hand, looking at the two of you. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s new. Baby, this is my Uncle Wayne. Wayne, this is my girlfriend.” He introduced you by name, and Wayne gave you a friendly smile.

“Well, strange way to meet one another, but glad to meet you,” Wayne said.

“You too,” was all you could offer.

When Wayne grabbed his lunch and left again, you slapped Eddie on the arm. “You said you knew we’d be alone!”

Eddie laughed, dodging you. “How was I supposed to know he’d forget his lunch and come back?”

You supposed he had a point. You couldn’t stay mad at him - not that you really were to begin with. You cared deeply about Eddie, and you wanted to be with him. You just hoped that wouldn’t keep you from being on the cheer team.

part 2?

[summervale]

「Merriment」

Third-person reader insert! Y/N is the younger sister of King Robert Baratheon. Her house sigil is a stag, yes, but it seems she has a particular fondness for hounds.

Contains: Reluctant pining, kissing, mature situations Words:  2,311

UNFINISHED WORK: This was supposed to be a long, multi-part piece which is why it takes so long setting up! This was part one and is about halfway finished. Figured there's a lot of Sandor fans that might enjoy a small something cute <3

No husband and no responsibilities made for a very happy woman indeed. Small wonder she was all smiles and riddles and gayeties; she must, the commonfolk thought, be the happiest woman in all the seven kingdoms.

This was likely true.

She was forever laughing. There was a smile on her face always, it seemed, and everywhere she went she took merriment with her. Her ladyship took great pleasure in riddles and games and shows of mummers and fools, and King’s Landing had not hosted a tourney that did not have her there in the pavilions in many a year. She was a friend to all regardless of birth or station or reputation (within reason), and for this she was quite loved, but also quite resented. The resentment was paid little mind—turning a blind eye and smiling was much more fun, as it was often irksome to those who were loth to favor her.

Y/N Baratheon. Lady of Storm’s End, younger sister to Stannis and Robert, older sister to Renly. She possessed the same appetite for amity as Robert coupled with the mirth and grandeur of Renly. Of Stannis, it was said, they shared only a name. Still she insisted she adored all her brothers equally, “even the gloomy one.”

Much was afoot in King’s Landing.

King Robert had named Lord Eddard Stark new hand of the king, and Stark had arrived with a host of his own and his two daughters in tow. This was cause for celebration, and celebration was cause for a tourney, and where there was a tourney (or a celebration), Lady Y/N was to be found.

And she was found in King’s Landing quite a lot, of recent.

There was a rumor, often dubbed a vicious and untrue one, that though her house sigil may be the King's own stag, Y/N had a particular fondness for hounds.

The sun was two hours from setting when a host of black and yellow arrived at The King's Gate. In came banners that bore stags, and a spate of wagons bringing wines and cheeses and polished pears from Storm’s End. An impatient rider rode ahead of the rest, leaving behind a cry of protest as she thundered away, alone, up the streets of King’s Landing.

She arrived with a well-lathered horse and a swirl of her cloak. A party had time to gather in the yard of the Red Keep; a paltry welcoming committee with little time to prepare.

But the King was there—of course the King was there.

Had she not already been grinning, she would have grinned. “There’s my favorite brother,” said Y/N, dismounting and already forgetting her palfrey.

The look on Robert’s face was strange, though, and uncharacteristic of the Robert she knew and loved. The years had not been kind to him (as was made most evident by his growing waistline), and his face was stern, drawn into a scowl, his brow furrowed.

Is he not happy to see me? she thought even through her smiles and excitement. Gods, he looks as grim as Stannis, maybe twice as much. When she made to throw her arms about his neck, he took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length instead.

“That’s your grace to you, woman. I am the King, or have you forgotten?”

The King’s sister opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, which was done dumbly and not unlike a fish.

The ruse was short-lived.

Robert Baratheon—King Robert Baratheon—broke into a roar of laughter like that of a bear made human. Still holding his dearest sister by the shoulders, he gave her a hearty shake. “Your face!” he boomed. “You should have seen it!”

Her smile returned, then her laughter. “You’re a fool if ever there was one, Robert!”  She threw her arms around his neck even as he shook her, and the big king lifted his little sister in his arms and hugged her so tightly, so fiercely, that the now-arriving party feared the king may crush their lady.

Robert didn’t crush Y/N, though. No, they were both used to it. “You’re crushing me, Robert,” she huffed at last, prompting the king to drop her back down onto the ground.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Right then, let’s get inside. We have much and more to catch up on, and there’s a flagon of wine calling my name.”

“Every flagon of wine calls your name, your grace.”

The King was laughing again, then, and the King’s sister was smiling.

That, as far as the two Baratheons were concerned, was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be, until one buried the other.

Meeting the King’s party was a grand ordeal, though Y/N had already met most of the partygoers in attendance on at least one occasion. Of course she knew the Lannisters, her brother’s family by law, and she’d met Lord Eddard Stark once before. Lord Eddard’s daughters were new to her, however, and a few of the faces at court as well. Having been taught well, she recognized most of the family names and colors, smiling and shaking hands and doing all the formalities a lady should do.

The occupants of the Red Keep’s great hall that night came from houses big and small, known and unknown, and saw the attendance of lords and ladies, knights, hedge knights, bards, poets and singers, fools in their motley and mummers with their painted faces. There were cards being shuffled and dice being thrown. Serving girls brought plate after plate of selections from the kitchens: stuffed capons, wine-glazed lamb, honeyed figs, dark breads with thick crusts, sweet lemon cakes still-warm from the ovens. The courses seemed never-ending and the wine never stopped flowing.

“Never was there such a party before, brother,” declared Y/N. She lifted a gilded goblet with a flourish, and rich, purple wine splashed over the rim and down her hand. She was the picture of effortless joy.

And she knew it, too.

If she hadn’t known it, the guests would have reminded her; the way they flocked to her in throngs and yammered on and on whenever she should happen to lend an ear—which was often. Round and round she circled the crowd as the evening wore on and the wine continued to flow, searching the room for a familiar face—a face that would stand out even in the most crowded of rooms.

Her gaze passed the lords and ladies, passed the knights in their polished armor, until at last she found her mark.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound, stood near the far wall, obscured halfway in the shadows. His face was grim, as it usually was, pulled tightly into a scowl that had long since worn its lines permanently into his features. The burn scars that marred half his face were highlighted by the flickering torchlight, giving him an even more fearsome appearance.

She knew Sandor was not like the other knights, not like the men who fawned over ladies with flowery words and grand gestures. He was rough, blunt, and often downright rude.

He was the perfect change of pace.

Oft she sought him when at last she could take the rinse-and-repeat of perfumed nobility no longer. She wove through the crowd with ease, exchanging smiles and nods as she passed, until she finally stood before Sandor.

"Sandor," she greeted him plainly. “It’s been too long.”

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. For an overly long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a grunt, he inclined his head slightly. "My lady," he replied, his voice as rough as the gravel on the King’s Road.

Y/N smiled up at him, unfazed by his gruffness. "Why do you stand here all alone?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Surely even hounds deserve a bit of merriment."

Sandor huffed, a sound that could have been a laugh if it had come from anyone else. "Merriment’s for fools," he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“Forgive me, then, for it seems I’ve forgotten my motley.”

“So it seems.”

She knew he was not a man of many words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. But she also knew that, for reasons she could not fully explain, she had become someone he tolerated more than most.

Perhaps it was a royal decree by Robert unbeknownst to her. And what a royal decree that would be! The thought made her laugh aloud, which only earned her a raised eyebrow in response.

He indicated the floor from which she’d just come. "Motely or not, you should jingle along with the other fools,” he said, though his tone was less stern than usual.

"And you should be out there with your fellow dogs," said she, “but here we are."

Sandor's lips twitched as if they might have remembered how to smile for half a moment. “Surprised you’re not dancing again. It went well for you last time.”

With one sentence he had broken the façade she wore so well. Her look of smug mirth disappeared from her face in an instant and was replaced instead by one of flustered surprise.

It had been a celebration much like this one and she was deep in her cups by the time the sun had set and the dancing had begun. Y/N had been at the heart of it, twirling and dancing with little care, passing hand from one lord to another, from knight to knight, breathless and flushed and shoes long forgotten.

The next thing she knew, she was stumbling, and a moment later, toppling entirely. The ground rose up to meet her with an unpleasant wack!, and the pain in her cheek was overshadowed only by a pain in her ankle. She’d gotten too carried away and twisted something, it seemed, and hadn’t even felt it until she was picking herself back up off the ground.

Or, well, trying to pick herself back up off the ground. The usual cloud of courtiers buzzed around her in an attempt to see her upright again, but the pain in her ankle swelled red hot and angry.

A shadow passed, then, and she had looked up, her vision slightly blurred from the wine, to see Sandor Clegane’s gruff face above her. There had been no mocking grin or cold stare, just a look that might have been concern on a more expressive man. “You’re alright.”

Without another word, he had scooped her up in his arms, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N had gasped, her hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders. "I can walk!" she had protested, though she hadn’t made any real effort to leave his arms.

 "Not on that ankle you can’t.”

And so she had let him carry her, through the bustling hall and up the winding stairs of the Red Keep, all the way to her chambers. It had been awkward, but it had also been…

More.

“You’re quite strong,” she said to him, which earned only a grunt of acknowledgement.

Something—something—fluttered inside of her when she saw him so close; the burned skin unevenly healed, the scruff that dusted his face, the muscle of his neck that disappeared beneath his armor where her prying eyes could not follow—but her imagination could. 

When they reached her chambers, he had set her down gently on the edge of her bed. She had looked up at him, her heart pounding in a way that had little to do with the wine. As he made to release her, she caught the back of his neck with her hand and held him there, inches from her face.

She’d expected him to break free, to pull away, to do anything else. But he stayed.

He stayed there like that, his lips inches from hers.

He had hesitated, his expression torn between wanting to leave and the pull of something deeper that they both felt there between them. They both smelled of wine and honeyed mead, lips sweet.

She didn’t know who kissed who, but in half a heartbeat they were entangled.

Sandor’s breath came ragged against her mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She bit his lip and he growled. It was fast, animal, raw want.

And a longtime coming.

When he pulled away, she pulled him back in again, and he didn’t fight her. Breathless, she’d pulled herself up by his shoulders and onto her knees, the pain in her ankle unfelt and forgotten. Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him in, in, in, until her chest was flush with his and she could feel every rise and fall of his on hers.

At last he’d taken her by the elbows and pushed her away, and it ended as suddenly as it had started.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he told her.

“But I haven’t had enough of you.”

“You’ve had your fill of that, too,” he said, turning cloak and leaving.

“I’m quite certain I haven’t had my fill of you.”

He paused mid-step and looked at her over his shoulder. “You don’t want that,” he assured her. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something sharp as steel and burning hot.

Y/N leaned back on the bed. “I know what I want,” she said, wishing she could stand and go to him, to pull him by his cloak and his armor and whatever else she could get her hands on—something lower than his beltline. “I’ve known for years and years.”

Slowly, deliberately, Sandor crossed the room again, silhouetted against the warm torchlight that poured in through the still-open door. “Trust me,” he said, towering over her, leaning in close. “You might want to get your fill of me, but you don’t want me to get my fill of you.”

Her breath left her body in a shuddering shiver.

Again he had turned, then, and didn’t stop to look back at her that time.

[kybercrystals94]

Banner by @blackseafoam | Event: @galactic-gift-gathering

This story was written for @nerdyduckrants and their prompt “Snow”…they wanted something with the Bad Batch and full of family fluff 🖤 Thank you for the fun prompt, and for being an amazing part of this fandom ☺️

Snow Day

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 1365

“Crosshair’s on my team!” Omega announces, latching herself to Crosshair’s arm as if one of their brothers might try to bodily snatch him away. 

Crosshair groans, and halfheartedly tries to shake her off, but Omega holds fast, grinning wildly from under her knitted hat. Her face is already turning pink from the cold because she refused to wear the matching scarf Hunter had tried to wrap around her. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be on your team,” Crosshair grumbles.

Omega snorts. “Liar.”

He is a liar, but he’ll never ever admit it out loud. Just like he’ll never admit that the fact that she chose him over either Wrecker or Hunter gives him a sickeningly, sticky warm feeling under his rib cage where his heart is. 

A year ago, Crosshair thought if he never saw snow again it would be too soon. And yet somehow, willingly, he is standing in the stuff halfway up to his knees, all because Omega has never had a proper “snow day.” Where Hunter managed to find all this cold weather gear on short notice is beyond him, but Omega’s weeklong dream of having a snowball fight with her brothers is coming to fruition.  

“I guess teams are decided then,” Hunter says with a grin, and nearly faceplants in the snow when Wrecker sidles up to him and slaps him on the back.

“Me and you, Hunt! We’ll show ‘em how it's done!” the giant crows.

Omega swings from Crosshair’s still captive arm. “No! We’ll show you, won’t we, Crosshair?”

“They won’t know what hit them,” Crosshair agrees, smirking. 

“Hey, no putting ice in your snowballs,” Hunter says sternly. 

Wrecker adds, “Or rocks.” 

“Why would someone do that?” Omega asks, aghast. 

“Because two someones figured out the accuracy of a snowball was increased with added weight,” Hunter says.

Wrecker coughs, “Crosshair. Tech.”

Omega laughs.

“Those someones were right,” Crosshair returns, “But three other someones were being tubies about it, even though they were literally wearing armor and it didn’t hurt them at all.”

“It was the principle!” Wrecker declares. 

“Well, we’re not wearing armor now,” Hunter says. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll teach Omega how to make boring, regular snowballs. Happy?” 

Hunter gives his youngest brother a look and changes the subject. “Alright, we have twenty minutes to prepare for the fight.” 

“Starting now!” Wrecker cries and dashes away. 

With an indignant noise of protest, Hunter takes off after his teammate, leaving Crosshair and Omega on their own. 

Omega looks up at Crosshair. “What do we do first?” 

“First,” Crosshair says, finally extracting his arm from Omega’s grip, “we need to create a base. Where we’ll keep all our ammunition.” 

“You mean our snowballs?” 

“Ammunition,” Crosshair reiterates, enunciating each syllable. “This is a battle. A battle we’re going to win.” 

Omega grins. “Okay. A place to keep our ammunition. Got it.” 

Crosshair surveys their surroundings, eyes moving across the blinding white blanket of snow. The landscape is a meadow with rolling hills, framed on the outskirts by evergreen trees. They can use this to their advantage if they play their cards right, putting their fortress at the crest of a hill so that they can have the high ground advantage when Hunter and Wrecker try to advance. While Hunter and Wrecker will use the same tactic, building their own base at the top of a hill, Wrecker will never be patient enough to wait for Crosshair and Omega to come to them.

Which will be his and Hunter’s ultimate downfall. 

“I’ll make the walls of our base,” Crosshair decides, starting to move in the direction of the highest hill. “You’ll focus on ammunition.” 

“Okay!” Omega chirps, following in the path Crosshair is clearing through the snow. 

When they make it to their destination, Crosshair points at the ground. “Use this snow to make the snowballs. I’m going to build four walls around you.” 

“But won’t we need to get out?” Omega asks. 

Crosshair smiles. “Not if I know our brothers.” 

Omega gasps when the realization hits. “They’ll come to us!” 

“Exactly.” Crosshair kneels down in the snow, scooping up a handful in his flesh hand and uses his prosthetic, sheathed in a glove, to begin forming a ball, demonstrating the technique to Omega. “I trust you can make a few hundred of these in fifteen minutes?” 

“A few hundred?” Omega gasps. 

“A thousand, that’d be better.” 

“That’s impossible!” 

“With that attitude it is,” Crosshair tells her. “Now stop whining and get to work!” 

Omega groans and crouches down to scoop up a handful of snow. Crosshair looks at the weapon in his head then tosses the snowball at her lightly, the soft, white orb bursting on the back of her head. 

“Hey!” Omega cries, twisting to glare up at him. 

“Target practice,” Crosshair says, shrugging

Omega throws the half formed ball in her hands at him, hitting his stomach with a mist of snow. 

Crosshair gasps, dusting himself off. “You’re wasting our ammo!” 

“You started it!” 

“I never said I was a good example, did I?” 

He is rewarded with an eye roll and a smile as Omega turns back to her task, scooping up handfuls of snow and balling them up. Crosshair begins forming the walls of their fortress, gathering up armfulls of snow from the sides of the hill and bringing them to the top, making piles that he then begins to pack down. 

“It feels like it’s been longer than twenty minutes,” Omega says, scraping up another handful of snow from her nearly depleted supply from within the fortress. 

Crosshair is finishing the fourth wall. “Oh, it has.” 

“Then where are they?” Omega asks, standing to look over the wall. 

“Waiting for us to come to them,” Crosshair says. 

“And we’re waiting for them to come to us?” 

“Exactly. But we’ve got something that they have in short supply.” Crosshair climbs over the wall and sits down next to her. “Patience.”

Omega laughs, then looks at her piles of snowballs. “Did I make enough?” 

“No, but it’ll have to do.” 

The girl sticks her tongue out at him. 

“Real mature,” Crosshair drawls. 

It is at that moment that a giant snowball sails overhead, obviously a product of Wrecker’s massive mitts. 

Crosshair grabs a snowball in each hand, and Omega does the same.

“Ready?” Crosshair asks. 

Omega nods, eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “Ready.” 

And the battle begins. 

***

“I feel cold all the way to my bones,” Omega says, her hands curled around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you play in the snow for too long.” 

Crosshair ignores the dark memories trying to creep up, focusing his attention on the fact that Hunter thought to bring something warm and sweet to drink on the flight back to Pabu. During the war, it was usually watered down instant caf that greeted them when they returned to the Marauder, rationed out because they didn’t know when they’d be able to get more. 

“I like this stuff,” Wrecker announces, then tries to shake out the last drops of his hot chocolate into his mouth from his mug. 

Crosshair likes it too; however, maybe it's the residue of that sticky warm feeling in his chest, but he passes  over his mug to Wrecker to finish off. His brother smiles at him, broad and toothy, and happily accepts the silent gift. Crosshair’s mouth twitches up in a responding half smile. 

“That was so fun,” Omega sighs. “Can we do it again someday?” 

“Sure, kid,” Hunter says, reaching over to tousle Omega’s smushed up hair that is flat against her head from the hat she’d been wearing. 

“But we’re gonna switch up teams next time,” Wrecker grumbles.  

“No!” Omega cries, “Crosshair and I made the perfect team! That’s why we won!”

“But I’ve never gotten to be on Crosshair’s team,” Wrecker whines. “And my team was so lame.”

Hunter frowns. “I’m right here, Wreck.”

“I know,” Wrecker says. 

Crosshair smirks. “I’ll decide whose team I’m on.”

Omega wiggles her eyebrows at him and mouths, Mine, right?

Crosshair shrugs dismissively, even though the answer is yes. 

For that kid, the answer will always be yes. 

END

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[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Zayne)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Zayne. The reason is because you want an assured happy end for him before you could be with him. The man has no qualm in being cursed again and again the moment he stays by your side in every timeline.

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

Masterlist Self Aware AU

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|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4 [current] |  5  |

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

"Have you seen the new banner?" You excitedly opened the conversation.

"Hope this one can spare you from fever." She smirked, "He's going to give an icy kiss to MC."

You hide your face behind your hand, slightly squeaking gleefully when you remembered the trailer.

"Chill, girl. No pun intended. I've never seen someone get sick because of a game like you. Maybe you really do need Snowy around to pull the reign."

"That was just a small misstep. Promise it won't happen again."

+--------------------------+--------------------------+

*Cough* *Cough*

"Shoot. I strained my voice too much after watching the kiss part. At least this time it was just a sore throat." She giggled.

+---------------------------+------------------------+

Scarred hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Here I was letting her have her way. Now a sore throat. Maybe I really SHOULD interfere next time."

+----------------------+-----------------------------+

"WHAT'S WITH ALL THIS ROCKING?! I mean... We sat on a rocking chair BUT..... ngeeeeEeeeeEEEE~"

You rolled around on your bed. Your friend was next to you, having a small laugh at your antics.

"Why are you shying away now? That's your man, right? Hold him tightly." She teased.

You smirked, "Right. How about your bad boy?"

Her face ceased to tease, looking awkward now.

"Who's ruffling Crow Crow feathers now? Oppsss... I meant abbs-"

She cupped your mouth, "Shu Shu Shu... You don't get to tease me on that."

+----------------------------+-----------------------+

Ears had pinkish tinged to them. One scared hand cupping his eyes. The phone was abandoned on the nearby table with a cold brew next to it.

"Why did she watch the spicy one with her friend? I can't interfere easily now."

He breathed out heavily.

"What do I do with this naughty girl?"

He sounded annoyed yet the smile playing at his lips was far from how his voice indicated it.

+----------------------------+-------------------------+

"His birthday event is coming. You're ready?"

"O to the F to the C! OF COURSE!"

They laughed.

"I had no doubt about it. Make sure to sing properly. He can TOTALLY hear you." She teased.

"Let me call you so that you can hear my lovely voice together with him."

"I'll block your number for a day. Enjoy your time with Snowy."

You pulled her cheek to her teasing.

+--------------------------+---------------------------+

"So how is it?"

"Company vacation is a blast. The cabin is nice. Just..."

"Just......."

"Errghhh... you know... how am I going to sing to Zayne like this!? What's with their timing for doing this to me?"

She laughed, "Relax. Tomorrow is the important call, right? You've already done everything including watching the memory. Don't open the game until night time. You will be safely home by then. Sing to your hearts content all you want."

You sighed, "Yeah. Good suggestion."

+-------------------------+---------------------------+

"Bad news. I miss the bus. Good news. I saw a hotel nearby."

Your friend sighed, "Why are you insisting on taking the bus when you can have a free ride home?"

You smile at your decision, "Because~ They brought back a lot of souvenirs for their family. I don't pack much. It's fine. I got a day off tomorrow thanks to that. My colleague even wanted to turn around but they were already halfway home so I insisted that it was fine."

You saw your friend massaging her forehead from the video call you made to her.

"Fine. Fine. Call me anytime. Just. Be safe, yeah."

You chuckled at your loveable worrywart friend.

"I will. Nite~"

"Nite."

+----------------------------+-----------------------+

"I hope my luck is still attached somewhere today."

You were sitting on a bench of a park near the hotel. Room fully booked.

The breeze swaying the autumn leaves. People were passing by, having a destination as they walked on.

"Maybe I'll just camp up in the bus station and take the earliest one tomorrow." Your mind set.

Somehow, you feel light today even with all that has been happening. You pulled out your phone, opening your solace game.

The video call was warm. His voice soothing you. You feel like you were experiencing his birthday memory in real life with the breeze and the leaves playing around you.

"Wish I could stay with you too, Zayne."

The call ended.

You look up, searching the moon among the clouds. You laughed simply as you closed your eyes.

"Even the moon is barely there. Guess everything is shying away from me today."

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

Eyes fluttered to your phone. Zayne was wearing his birthday attire in the cafe. It suits him well. You chuckled lowly.

"It kinda is actually."

"Can I accompany you then?"

Brows furrowed. His mouth wasn't moving. AT ALL. You stared at him accusingly.

Someone's clearing his throat in front of you.

You jumped as you glanced up in a heartbeat.

Your whole body went rigid now. Questioning everything you see right at this moment.

Zayne.

Wearing a black turtleneck with a grey coat on top of it. You noticed a blush barely tinged his nose and ears. His face was gentle.

"Are you cold?" That's the first thing you said to this uncanny situation.

He hid his laugh with the back of his hand. Shaking his head afterwards.

You decided that you like those antics very much.

He kneeled down and held your hands in his.

"The cold never bothered me quite like a certain someone's recklessness."

His hazel eyes glistenening brightly at you.

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| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 [current] | 5 |

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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[reginaphalangelobster125]

Game Night

Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Thor, Loki, Stephen Strange, Wong

Summary: The Avengers have a game night.

Warnings: one swear word, lots of yelling, Loki being Loki, fluff, I think that's all

Word Count: 2,020

Notes: I was planning to write a short drabble but it got away from me.....and I let it. I was halfway through an episode of Buffy so that may or may not have influenced me. Thank you so much @soulvtude I LOVED writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Every Friday night was game night. Peter Parker had suggested it and all of the Avengers jumped at the idea, thinking it would be a fun time had by all but they were sorely mistaken. The evening started off fine, Bruce made the popcorn as he was one of the only people trusted around the microwave after the incident. Everyone sat down at the large, steel table in the common room, awaiting the games Tony and Peter had promised to bring. The two thought they had picked out a nice selection but oh how wrong they were. Their first mistake, Battleship. They thought it would be fun, they thought everyone would enjoy playing, they thought wrong. When Sam had revealed three out of the four spots his ship was on Bucky thought he had him.

"C-3" Bucky proclaimed, his voice thick with a certain smugness.

"Miss" Sam responded.

"What?!"

"Miss"

"How?! C-1, C-2 and C-4 were all hits!"

"And C-3 is a miss, Buckaroo"

"It has to be a hit! And don't call me that!"

"Call you what, Buckaroo?"

"Wilson, I swear to God, one more word out that smart mouth of your's and I'll-"

"You'll what?"

"That's it!"

Bucky snapped, he leaped across the table and landed on Sam, pinning him to the floor. His hands wrapped around Sam's neck, almost ready to squeeze just that little bit too tight.

"Buck! Get off him, please" Steve pleaded, to no use.

"Not happenin' Stevie"

Sam was gasping for air, pulling at the super soldier's hair, trying to get him off in any way. Steve ran up and ripped Bucky off of him just in time. The rest of the team looked on in mixed expressions of shock and annoyance.

"Buck, I think you should go to your room and cool down" Steve gently prodded, trying to calm the situation.

"I'm not going anywhere unless he goes" Bucky growled, glaring at Sam, who stuck his tongue out at him.

"Fine, Sam will go too"

"Hey, no fair! He attacked me"

"You provoked him, now both of you, go to your rooms"

"Bu-"

"Uh! Rooms, now"

"Fine, Mom" Sam muttered under his breath.

The two men walked to their rooms, not without some grumbling.

"Now, where were we?" Steve asked, sitting back down.

"M-maybe it'd be good to play a different game?" Peter voiced, still a little nervous.

"Good idea, kid" Steve replied.

Peter rustled through the box of games next to him when he pulled out a deck of cards with the word 'Uno' written on the box.

"Nu uh" Nat stated simply.

"Nu uh?" Tony questioned.

"No Uno"

"Why not?"

"Ask Bird Brain"

"Hey!" Clint yelped.

"What did you do, Clint?" Steve asked in his annoyed mother voice.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Fuckin' liar"

"Language! There is a child present!"

"Oh that's okay Mister Captain America Rogers, sir"

"Y-you can just call me Steve, kid"

"Thank you"

"Back to Uno" Tony interjected.

"No, never again" Nat deadpanned.

"Come on! That was years ago!" Clint whined.

"So you do remember!" Nat accused.

"Okay, yes, fine, I remember. Now can we please move on?"

"Not until you apologise"

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Like you mean it" Tony teased.

"Natasha Romanoff I am deeply sorry for what I have done to you, will you please forgive me?"

"No"

"No?!"

"No"

"Oh this just keeps getting better" Tony mumbled through a mouth full of popcorn.

"What you did was unforgivable, Barton!"

Clint sighed, running his hand across his face.

"Why don't we just play something else, guys?" Steve tried to cut through the tension.

"Fine" Nat grumbled.

"I have Monopoly" Peter muttered, absolutely terrified of the Black Widow, as anyone should be.

"That could be fun" Bruce mentioned, reminding everyone that he was in fact, still in the room.

Peter set up the Monopoly board and made Tony the banker, yet another grave mistake. The game played out fine for a while, everyone was nice to each other, being fair, until Bruce ended up in jail for the third time in a row. A few veins on his forehead and neck started to pulse green.

"Jail bad!" He yelled in a Hulk voice.

"It is amusing how easily angry the Hulk gets!" Thor boomed through bouts of laughter, not helping the situation at all.

"Not Hulk!"

"Thor, you're not helping!" Clint almost screeched out of terror, being sat next to Bruce was not an ideal position to be in.

"Hey, hey, big guy, calm down okay?" Nat reasoned with Bruce, narrowly avoiding a code green.

"I-I'm sorry, I think I should just go to my room"

Bruce left up the hallway, feeling incredibly guilty and embarrassed. That is for now, before he hears stories of the rest of the night in the morning.

"Why don't we play a video game?" Peter almost begged at this point, trying to salvage the night.

"Sounds great, whatcha thinking?" Tony asked, looking over to him.

"Uh, what about Mario Kart?"

"Good choice"

"What is Mario Kart?" Steve and Thor ask at the same time.

"It's a game where you race cars and pick up little boosts along the way"

"That sounds very amusing" Thor proclaimed.

Peter, Thor, Steve, Tony, Loki, Clint and Nat all move to the TV's, of which there are two, both equipped with the latest gaming tech, Tony's gift to Peter. Peter explains how to play and it seems as though everyone understands.

"Look brother! They have a rainbow bridge that looks just like the Bi-Frost!"

"Very amusing" Loki drawled with an eye roll.

The race started, Nat, Tony and Peter were all very good at it with Clint not too far behind. Thor kept flying off the bridge, Steve could barely work the controls and Loki used magic to get ahead.

"Uh uh, Sabrina, no magic!" Tony called Loki out, still not looking away from the screen.

"Who is this Sabrina?"

"The Teenage Witch"

"I've never heard of her, is she very powerful?"

"Mr Stark, I don't think he gets it" Peter whispered.

"Yeah, I gathered that"

"Do not speak of me as if I am not here!"

"Cool your jets, Samantha"

"WHO ARE THESE WOMEN YOU KEEP REFERRING TOO?!"

"They're for TV Mr Loki"

"They are fictional?"

"Yes"

"Then why do you compare them to me?"

"Because their powers are just a lot of talk too" Tony quipped.

"How dare you doubt the God of Mischief?!"

"Brother, the man of iron is just trying to upset you"

"Well, it will not work"

"Seems like it already has, Willow"

"WHO IS WILLOW?!?!?!"

"I actually don't know that one" Peter said, still watching the screen, and kicking everyone's asses.

"Willow Rosenberg, Buffy The Vampire Slayer" Nat interjected, also focused on the screen.

"You watch Buffy?" Tony questioned.

"Only because someone said that some vampire looked like Clint, then I got sucked in"

"Yeah it does that, did you say a vampire looked like Clint?"

"Yep, but it was in the spin off"

"We need to watch that episode"

"Please don't" Clint almost pleaded.

"After this we are so watching that" Tony smirked.

After that Clint decided to leave, he didn't want to be teased any further later into the night.

A few hours went by without any incidents and Peter thought everything was back to normal, he thought everything was fine and going well but yet again, he was wrong.

"YOU STUPID HUNK OF JUNK!" Steve screamed, throwing his controller on the ground after not being able to make a right turn for twenty minutes.

His outburst set everyone off.

"I am done with this ridiculous machine!" Thor beckoned as he stomped off just after Steve.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER! I know you are cheating somehow!"

"I'm not Mr Stark, I promise!"

"I'm with Tony, there's no way you can win every single round without cheating at least a bit" Nat added as she took walked away.

Peter was left sitting on the couch next to Loki, who had stopped playing hours ago.

"Mr Loki?"

"Yes, Spiderling?"

"Is-is there any chance you might have cast a spell to make everyone go crazy?"

"No, but I wish I had thought of it"

"So then, they're just, like this?"

"It appears so"

"Wow, I'm just glad Doctor Strange turned down my invitation"

"Ah, about that"

"Mr Loki, what did you do?"

Loki waved his hand to reveal Stephen, sitting the corner rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently.

"What did you do?!"

"It was just a simple spell for a bit of fun. He has been sitting there the whole time, watching us but no one has been able to see or hear him"

"Why? And why is he such a mess?"

"One, because it was fun and two, because he has no perception of time so in his perspective it could have been days, weeks, months even"

"And you think that's fun?!"

"Yes! And payback"

"Payback for what?"

"The time he had me trapped in a loop, falling"

"Thor said that was only for thirty minutes, not months!"

"That time it was but he did it again a few weeks ago, it felt like I was stuck for 2 months"

"Well that's a bit mean of him, what did you do?"

"Why does everyone always say that? I might not have done anything"

"Mr Loki?"

"I said might"

Peter just looked at him, with those big puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, I took his necklace"

"You what?!"

"I thought it was a harmless joke!"

"You know how weird he is about that thing"

"Yes, it's almost as disturbing as his attachment to the cloak"

Cloak flew over to Loki and slapped him in the face.

"Hey!"

Peter tried to hide his giggles but couldn't for very long.

"Do you think this is funny mortal?!"

"Yes! Very!"

Loki growled before stomping off in a huff. Suddenly a bright orange ring of light appeared in front of Peter and Wong stepped through.

"Where is he?" Wong asked tiredly.

"Just over there Mr Supreme Wong sir"

"Just call me Wong"

"Okay sir"

Wong motioned for the cloak and it picked Stephen up and carried him through the portal.

"Loki?"

"Yes"

"Hmm, I will deal with him in the morning, for now I have to turn this" He motioned at Stephen, still babbling while holding his knees to his chest "Back into a fearsome sorcerer"

"Good luck!"

"I'm sure I'll need it"

With that the portal closed and Peter joined Nat and Tony in the main common room.

"Do you forgive me yet?"

"Sure, sit down, we're watching vampire Barton" Tony said, gesturing for Peter to sit next to him.

"God, no. Please Nat, don't do it" Clint begged.

"Nope, now sit down or get out, either way, shut up"

Clint left, done with Nat's teasing. Peter, Nat and Tony watched the episode and Tony turned to Peter.

"So are you saying, you've never seen Buffy The Vampire Slayer?"

"Nope, but I've heard of it, sounds kinda silly"

"Bite your tongue!" Nat exclaimed, surprising the two.

"Well we're watching it, prepare for your mind to be blown"

"That seems a little over the top" Peter doubted.

"For once, he's not being dramatic"

Tony played the first two episodes and looked to Peter.

"Whatdya think?"

"Oh my God, is there more?"

"Oh yeah"

The three of them watched more episodes for hours until Peter fell asleep. His legs were on Tony's lap and his head was on Nat's shoulder as he snored, fast asleep.

"Do we move him?" Tony whispered.

"Nah, he looks too comfy"

They sat there for a while before they all fell asleep, quite the sight for the others when they woke up. Sam took a photo and ran away just as Natasha woke up. Of course she threatened him but she didn't want to disturb the still sleeping Peter in her lap.

And what did Peter learn from all of this? Game nights with the Avengers were chaotic, loud and sometimes a little murdery but they always ended happily, for the most part and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird

[prettykittycastle]

Why Me?

Summary: The last thing Bruce expected to happen to him was getting a blowjob in the lab.

(The reader uses she/her pronouns and is 18+. The ethnicity/race is preferably black.)

(Content Warning: blowjob, oral sex, male receiving, slight dirty talk, slight sub-Bruce)

"You should relax, Dr. Banner."

"You're always so tense, doctor. I can help with that."

"Maybe the Hulk wants you to have some fun."

At the feel of your warm tongue running over the head of his cock, Bruce thought over the things you had said to him before this night. Of course at the time, he didn't realize you were constantly making suggestions to him, his focus always on his lab work. But now, lightly shuddering at feeling the tip of your tongue run against the slit in his tip, he felt incredibly stupid to not notice them sooner.

"Mmmm," you hummed, sliding his member into your mouth, instantly the salty taste of him on your tongue made your mouth water.

"Oh God," he moaned, closing his eyes and laying his head back against his lab chair, his legs shaking.

"How ya feeling, Doctor? Still tense?" you slipped him out of your mouth and asked him. You wrapped your hand around him and held him firmly, grinning up at the sight of the anxious scientist before you.

For a while you had been trying to get his attention, wanting so badly to have him writhing in pleasure and finally have him be able to relax. Tonight was gonna be your last night of trying to catch his attention and if he didn't catch on yet, you were planning on moving on, but it seems that the universe had finally decided to do you a favor, and Bruce finally noticed you.

Now looking at him, you just wanted to rip all his clothes off and ride the fuck out of him. His lab coat was spread open, the first couple buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned and some of the hair on his chest was showing, his glasses askew upon his face, and his pants were pulled down around his knees. Be patient, you told yourself, wanting so badly to hear him moan your name.

"Y-yeah,...n-no," he quickly changed his answer, trying to keep control of his mind and his urge to thrust into your hand. "Uh, (Y/N)-"

"Bruuuce," you cooed at him, beginning to slowly jerk him off, the saliva from your mouth making it easy. "Just relax for me, sweetie."

Easier said than done, he thought, closing his eyes tighter at the feel of your hand jerking him off. He knew that agreeing to this was risky, worrying that the big guy would appear at any moment, but he couldn't turn down the opportunity to have you, of all people, on your knees, ready to have his dick in your mouth.

"Please," he begged. He didn't have to say what he was begging for because you already knew and by the time, he opened his mouth, ready to say something else, your lips were wrapped around his member again.

"Mmm," you moaned around him, loving the salty taste of him on your tongue. Lowering your head, you relaxed your jaw and throat to take him deep into your mouth till your lips stopped halfway down his cock. When you felt that you couldn't fit anymore of him in, you let the saliva from your mouth run down his length before wrapping both of your hands around the rest of him. Bobbing your head and stroking him, you couldn't control the moans escaping your mouth and traveling to him. You had been fantasizing about this for so long and now you couldn't be happier to feel the heaviness of his cock on your tongue.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. Bruce tried to remind himself this as he tried and failed to keep his lower half from lifting itself up from the chair and attempting to fuck your sweet mouth. He could feel his heart rate picking up and he worried that the other guy might make an appearance at the worst time.

"Shit, (Y/N)," Bruce groaned, letting his head fall back onto his lab chair while clenching the armrests tightly. "S-Slow down, please."

Your response to this request from him was simply bobbing your head faster, swallowing as much of him as you could, letting drool run out of your mouth and down his cock, helping you stroke him faster.

You didn't need to look up to know that the skin on his knuckles were probably turning green by how tightly he was holding the armrests and you wondered how long they would last before they completely broke off from the chair.

It's been so long. I'm not gonna last. He realized. The last time he had any type of sexual interaction was years, before the appearance of Hulk. After him, he never thought he'd ever get a chance to touch another person this way again.

"Bruuuce," you said, pulling your mouth away from him, but still stroking him. You looked up at him and couldn't help the smirk that grew on your face at seeing his head laid all the way back, holding onto the armrests for dear life.

"(Y/N)," he moaned your name again, hearing you call his name and forcing his eyes to open, and when they finally did, he instantly regretted it. The sight below him almost made him cum right then and there, but thanks to his years of perfecting control over the big guy, he held himself back from cumming too early. Seeing your (E/C) eyes look up at him, hazy and full of lust, your mouth and chin shining from the saliva on his dick, and the string of it hanging loosely from your bottom lip and his tip was almost too much for the poor scientist who had thought he would be living a life of celibacy because of his condition.

"How ya feel, Dr. Banner? You relaxed yet?" Your smirk grew wider, feeling his dick grow harder in your hands at you taunting him.

"Y-yes, yes, I am," he replied back, his eyes barely open as he tried to hold himself off from cumming, but your words were too much. "Please, (Y/N)."

"What is it," you asked, your voice changing to a lighter, more innocent tone despite what you were currently doing. "Bruce, what is it?"

"Aah," He moaned loudly, straining to control himself, his mind almost completely lost to lust. "I'm-I'm close t-to-"

"Close to cumming," you finished his statement, slightly tightening your grip and quickening your strokes. You could practically feel the cum waiting to burst from him. "You wanna cum?"

He couldn't find it in himself to open his mouth to speak, and simply nodded his head.

"Tell me. You wanna bust a nut on my face or in my mouth?"

"Oh God," he whimpered, lifting his hips to fuck your hands, his desperation evident.

"I'm fine with either one," you told him before lowering your head down to swallow his dick again, moaning at his hardness, and wiggling your tongue against the underside of him.

At that moment, Bruce couldn't handle it anymore, and before he knew it, his cum came spurting out of him in long, white, salty ropes down your throat to which you gladly accepted swallowing as much of it as you could.

If seeing you on your knees for him was already too much, watching you through half open eyes, gobbling and swallowing his cum was too overwhelming and he had to force his hand to let go of his armrest and use it to lightly push your head away.

"Shit, shit. Stop." He could feel himself becoming overstimulated, and knew without a doubt that if he got anymore stimulated, the big guy would definitely show up.

You didn't move at first, happily slurping up everything he offered and more, before deciding he had enough. You lifted your head from him and took a breath, wiping some of the spit from your face and gathering any cum that escaped from your mouth onto your fingers.

"Why," he asked, trying to catch his breath, and attempt to lower his heart rate back down. "Why...me?"

"What do you mean 'why you'," you asked, putting your cum-covered fingers in your mouth and sucking it off.

Seeing you do this, he had to take a second to calm himself down, before responding. "I mean...why out of all the guys in this building, you chose me? Why not Tony, Steve, Sam, Thor? Why me?"

The way he asked that made your heart almost break and suddenly the urge to fuck him grew tremendously stronger, wanting to give this man as much pleasure as you could.

"I don't want Tony or Steve or any of the others. Just you, Bruce. I like you. I think you're hot."

"Yeah, but," he sat up in the chair and straightened himself, his usual shyness coming back over him. "But why me? Why do you like me? The guy that has a big green rage monster in him."

"Because I think it's hot how smart, sweet, caring, and shy you are, Bruce." As you told him this, you stood up from the lab floor, wincing at the small ache in your knees and climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulder. "I've liked you for a while. And if you just want this to be a one time thing, I'm cool with that. But I also want us to be something." You knew that one of the reasons the scientist tended to distance himself from the others was not just because of his shy nature, but also because of his worry of how he, the team, and others viewed him and his second half. He saw his second half as a monstrous nuisance and thought that the team might as well, but you knew that was wrong and you want to show him that you view him as more than the Hulk, and as Bruce Banner.

"I can control him most times, but every now and then, he wants out and it's hard to put him back in," he warned you, placing his hands on your hips.

"That's fine. We'll handle it together." You laid a gentle kiss upon his lips, aware that he still has to calm his heart down from your blowjob. He didn't say anything else and kissed you back with a surprising amount of vigor that seemed to make the fire in between your legs burn stronger.

"You know we have to be careful in the future when it comes to...this," he pulled away and warned you.

"We will and we will have a lot of fun, too," you told him, going back to kissing him. Even though, you two had just made it official, you were already thinking of the many things you wanted to do to this man, and unbeknownst to you, Bruce was thinking of the many positions he could put you in by the end of the night, how to not risk the big guy coming out while doing so.

[cherrycola27]

Star Spangled Seresin

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Political situations. Unrequited love, one night stand, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 1: (I was) Enchanted to Meet You:

After you had left the apartment, Jaycee decided to take some time to herself and get some writing done for work. She was halfway through her article when her phone chimed. It was a text from Jake.

She took a deep breath. She shouldn't have given Jake her phone number. Jaycee didn't do relationships. Not after what happened. But Jake was sweet and made her cum three times and then fixed her breakfast the next day. So, in a moment of weakness, she gave him her number.

She checked his text. It was a message checking to make sure she had made it home okay. After confirming, she was fine, he asked her about her day.

Feeling bold, she snapped a picture of herself with a messy bun, glasses, leggings, and her oversized Georgetown sweatshirt with her laptop. Jake chuckled when he received the image before texting her back a selfie of him in a US Navy tank at the gym.

Jaycee blushed before typing back, "I figured you'd be the kind of guy who works out shirtless 😉." Jake quickly replied, "Normally, I do, but my back had a run-in with some nails last night 😏."

Jaycee's face turned red. And before she could fire off a response, Jake texted her again, "When can I see you again?"

Jaycee sighed. She wasn't a second date or first date, whichever this was kind of girl, but Jake did seem sincere, a nice meal, and some good sex did sound appealing. Of course, she'd have to keep it a secret from you, but that shouldn't be too hard. So, before she could talk herself out of it, she texted him back that she was free on Monday.

Moments later, a smiling selfie of Jake graced her screen with the message, "Fantasic. Meet me at Marcel's at 7:30. The reservation will be under Seresin, party of two."

Jaycee collapsed against the throw pillows of the couch. Was she really about to do this?

The rest of the afternoon was spent texting with Jake. She learned all kinds of things about him, from where he grew up, to his time in the Naval Academy, to his career in the Navy, and some about his family. Jaycee shared more details about herself than she had in a long time. She was about to order some takeout and text you to see what you wanted when she got a message saying you'd be out late and wouldn't be home until after midnight. Something with the campaign.

Jaycee rolled her eyes at how dedicated you were to your job before placing her order.

She'd just settled down to enjoy her orange chicken when a FaceTime from Jake lit up her phone.

"Um, hi?" She said as she answered it. "Hey." Jake said smoothly. "Sorry, I probably should have texted to see if you were busy, but I really wanted to see you again." Jake said.

"It's fine. I just got some takeout and was about to watch some true crime." She told him. "Oh, true crime? Are you more unsolved mysteries or serial killers?" Jake asks. "Unsolved mysteries for sure. And I love a good conspiracy." Jaycee replies as she grabs her chopsticks.

"Conspiracy theories are fun. Once Bradley and I get elected, I can't wait to learn all the secrets they keep locked in the Library of Congress. After the inauguration, I'm heading straight for the JFK file." Jake says without missing a beat. "Why JFK? Is it because he was assassinated in Texas and you're from there, or is it because he was a Navy man, too?" She asks him with a mouthful of noodles.

"Both." Jake confirms

Jaycee snorts out a laugh. "You know that secret section of the Library or Congress is a myth, right?" She tells him. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see. Maybe you and I can look for it together after the election." Jake tells her with a bright smile.

"Yeah, maybe," Jaycee shifts uncomfortably.

"So, other than run for office and fly planes, what do you do for fun?" She asks, changing the subject.

"I like to hike. If I am back home, I love riding horses on my family ranch. A pickup game of football or basketball is fun every now and then. I'm a great bowler, but even better at darts and pool, and I'm a sucker for a good musical or theater performance. My sisters were in drama and dance in school, so I always went to their shows and then started seeing a few shows on my own." Jake tells her.

"Oh, so you have culture?" Jaycee teases him. "What's your favorite show?" She asks him. "Hamilton, obviously." Jaycee can't help but laugh. "Basic." She teases him. "But it could be worse. I figured you would have said something like Oklahoma." She says.

"No self-respecting Texan would ever say their favorite show is Oklahoma." Jake says in a serious tone.

"So what about you, other than grilling potential vice presidents, what do you do for fun?" Jake asks her.

"Um, I like hiking too, I've never rode a horse, I like yoga, and reading, and mini-golf, and kickboxing. And I, too, enjoy the theater."

"So, what's your favorite show then?" Jake asks her. She can tell he's waiting to tease her.

"Wicked." She admits sheepishly. "Oh, and I'm the basic one." Jake rolls his eyes dramatically. "Hey it's a great story about fighting for what you think is right and denying social norms!" Jaycee defends herself.

"If you say so. I've never seen it." Jake shrugs. "What!" Jaycee shrieks. "You said you have sisters. How have you never seen it?!" She asks him. "I tried once. The flying monkeys creeped me out." He admits.

"Okay, okay. I get that." She tells him. "So, I had a really good time with you last night." Jake tells her.

"So did I. Three really good times." Jaycee admits. "I was talking about at the bar. Like, don't get me wrong, the other stuff was great too, but I enjoyed getting to know you." He tells her.

Before Jaycee can answer, she hears keys in the door, and your voice calling out to her. "Jaycee, I'm home!"

"Oh, shit, Jake, I've gotta go!" Jaycee says before quickly ending the call.

"Hey! I thought you said you wouldn't be back until after midnight?" Jaycee asks you. "Yeah, Bradley and I finished up early. Who was that on the phone?" You ask her.

"Um, no one." Jaycee says quickly. "Wait—was that Mr. Tongue Tricks? You gave him your number? Where you guys having phone sex?" You ask her.

"No, no, and ew, no." Jaycee says as she cleans up her mess in the living room. "Okay, whatever you say." You sing-song back to her.

"Hey, do have plans Monday night? Candice and Talia are going to be in town and want to get drinks." You tell her.

"Actually, I do have dinner plans. Sorry." Jaycee tells you. "No worries." You respond before heading to your room.

All of Jaycee's Sunday is spent texting Jake. The two of them talk about everything under the sun. He makes her feel good— happy even, something she haven't felt from a relationship in quite a long time. But then—

Jake had brought up the topic of dumb things he did as a teen and told her about the scar on his ass from a bull. Jaycce laughed at him. Then, he texted, saying how he loved how she had turned her surgical scar into something beautiful. She asked him what he meant. And then he replied, "The one on your side, that's the quill tattoo. Did you have your appendix or something removed?"

Her heart sank, and she dropped your phone. The scar he was talking about wasn't from surgery. It was from the worst moment of her life. She quickly got up and went to the mirror in her room. Jaycce lifted her shirt and traced the jagged lines that ran across her right side.

You had convinced her to get the markings tattooed as a way to reclaim them, but even though she had tried to make them beautiful, they still carried ugly memories.

Flashes of that night flooded her brain, the yelling, the glass, the blood —so much blood. She shook the thoughts from her mind.

Jaycee quickly changed the subject, but suddenly, her heart wasn't in it anymore. Who was she kidding? She couldn't date Jake, she had too much baggage for a guy like him.

On Monday, she barely texted him. And that evening, just as you were able to leave to meet up with your friends, she came out of her room dressed to go out. "Hey, wait up!" She called to you. "You're coming? I thought you had plans?" You ask her skeptically.

"They got canceled. Let's go get drinks!" Jaycee cheered as the two of you walked out the door.

At 7:10, Jaycee, you, and your college friends got a table at the bar right across from Marcel's

At 7:15, she watched Jake enter with a bundle of flowers.

At 7:25, he texted her that he was there.

At 7:30, he asked if she was on her way, and if she was running late, that was fine.

At 7:40, he tried calling her, and she immediately sent it to voicemail.

At 7:45, she stopped checking her texts.

At 8 p.m., she watched a deflated Jake Seresin leave the restaurant. Jaycee finished her drink and excused herself to the restroom.

Once she was alone, she turned off her phone and allowed a single tear to slip down her cheek.

"This is for the best." She told herself in the mirror." But she knew she was lying to herself.

Okay! Here we go yall! Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @dakotakazansky @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby

[jazeswhbhaven]

We’re barely halfway into Nov and it’s been two L cards already plus Zagan on the way which is three. I don’t want to rain down on peoples excitement but I’m just bothered by the amount of L cards being released. I can’t math but I feel no player in their right mind would want to spend over $50-100+ dollars in a month for this many cards. I’m taking into account the NP price + paying for the seals. Not sure what this worry of mine is, maybe it feels like PB is getting way too desperate. I never seen a gacha release this much and usually games like FGO release their new content in bulk so you can roll for any of them in one banner.

I for one am not familiar with the usual realm of gacha games with their banners and pity rates, roll rates and things like that, but what I've been educated about is their price points are typically higher than WHB's which to me is insane lol

Like if $50-$100 is "budget" for ya'll then what is everyone normally spending???? I don't even wanna know what others spend on LADS or any other gachas ;.; probably out of my tax bracket.

But back to whb....I actually do want to see other devils because we haven't met all of the 72, so clearly there should be more lower rank cards to collect in the mean time. Being bombarded with so many L cards as a f2p consumer is more sitting around waiting three months or more to pull one. Even getting multiples of the cards you already have is useless because all you get is coins and books, unless it's an L-grade and you're done evolving the card to the max level. I'm certain this may be PB trying to keep up the money flow so they don't have to shut down the project but who knows with companies now a days. I just know they aren't going to stop, even with the players emailing about it 💀

[welcometololaland]

VERY NEARLY UPLOADED A PHOTO OF MYSELF INSTEAD OF THIS BANNER LMAO! JUMPSCARE!

Thank you for the tags @cha-melodius @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses @birdclowns @lemonlyman-dotcom @iboatedhere NEEDED this, this week and I appreciate all of you! I know most of y'all are Tarlos writers and I'm so sorry but I have no Tarlos inspo this week, but if you like two very intelligent, boss-ass women lightly bullying their brother/brother-in-law (basically), then maybe you will like this! It's from Fifty First Dates (chapter 4 - released on Monday) (thanks to @rmd-writes for beta-ing).

“Can I ask a question?” Nora asks, leaning back in the booth, her eyes glinting dangerously.  Alex sighs, the beer in his hand halfway to his lips. “If I said ‘no’, would it stop you?” Nora looks at June, who rolls her eyes. “Of course not.” “Then no,” Alex replies petulantly, taking a sip of beer.  “After ant-gate,” Nora continues, now crossing her legs daintily, as if she’s the picture of etiquette and not about to ask Alex some kind of savage, personal question, “why did you not call one of us?” Alex scoffs, almost blowing bubbles from his half-empty beer glass into his face. “Come on,” he says drily, ignoring his near faux pas. “You would have made so much fun of me.” “You told us anyway,” June points out, reaching for her margarita.  “And we’re making fun of you now,” Nora adds.  “I never claimed I was smart,” Alex protests, even though he has, on multiple occasions, claimed that he is. “Oh my god, Alex,” June groans, tipping her head back momentarily in a very dramatic fashion she definitely adopted after spending too much time with Nora. “You know you’re smart. We know you’re smart. So, why did you elect to go and stay at Henry’s when you could have stayed with us?” “We just wanna know if you boned,” Nora quips, before June kicks her under the table. “Maybe not in that much detail,” June corrects, giving Nora a sharp look as she scowls. “Just a high level run-down.” “Including whether or not you f*cked.”

I know a lot of people have done this already but gonna go out on a limb and tag @kiwiana-writes @cricketnationrise @chaa-kiao @athousandrooms @stutteringpeach @clottedcreamfudge @indomitable-love @celeritas2997 @reyescarlos @sunshinestrand @goodways @fitzherbertssmolder and @watmalik (any art wips?) @three-drink-amy @walkinginland @wandering-night19 @ithilien-writes @freneticfloetry @hoko-onchi-writes @ambiguouspenny and @howtosingit just in case you're interested in an early read!

[pajarinwrites]

The Perfect Set 01

➳ fem!reader x Jacob

➳ wc: 4.8k

➳ TAGS: volleyball player!jacob, college!au, best friends to lovers

➳ WARNINGS: drinking?, slightly questionable comments about women's bodies (but our Jacob stops them before they get to finish the sentence :D)

➳ AN: omg wtf this took so long, and i kept pushing it back and then i realised it's scheduled for zhongqiujie/chuseok even and i wanted to write a little special for the holiday and i couldn't finish because i was editing this because i felt terrible that it took this fucking long to finish in the first place

also, sorry to lucas, i'm sure he drinks his respect women juice every morning

next | series masterlist | general masterlist

You could make out Jacob’s focused face from your position in the stands. No matter how many times you’d seen him before a match, you’d never grow tired of the expression he wore during warm-ups. The soft, lovely Jacob you’d known for most of your life suddenly seemed to become a whole different person. The kind of focus that shadowed his eyes and the intensity in his gaze reminded you again and again why the opposing team always seemed intimidated by his mere presence.

You watched him stride across the court, shaking hands with the opponent’s captain in front of the referee. Your heart swelled with pride once more as you remembered the team meeting at the beginning of the semester, where the players voted Jacob as their captain, unanimously. His expression had been incredulous and elated at the same, so very different from the one he was wearing right now. So very different from the one he had been wearing when he came climbing through your dorm window that night, close to tears in worry about not being able to fulfil his duties as captain.

He had big shoes to fill, true, Sangyeon had been a brilliant captain and wing spiker, but Jacob was going to be brilliant in his own right, in his own way. You told him as much, while holding him close and stroking his back lightly. He nodded solemnly against the column of your neck, opting to hold you a little closer in lieu of a verbal reply.

You’d like to hug him again now, tell him ‘see, didn’t I tell you, you’d be great?’. But you have to make do with simply waving your enormous banner and cheering him and his team on as loud as you could.

They win, of course they do. They haven’t done much else since the start of the semester. Largely due to Jacob’s tireless efforts at captain, the research that goes into the best warm-up and stretching routines, the extra hours working on stamina and reviewing game plans together. You’re there for all of it, where else would you be as his best friend? And he thanks you by giving you so much of his precious time, that he always had so little of, torn between responsibilities for his friend group, team, and university work. Not that you’re any less busy.

“You played brilliantly! Mrs. Oropeza would be so proud of you!” You great him in front of the changing rooms after the game. He hasn’t even showered yet, his bangs sticking to his forehead and his jersey sticking to his torso, in ways that leave little to your imagination. But his eyes are shining with happiness and with pride, and maybe a little bit with relief. That’s your Jacob, ever the worrier.

“Thanks! I flunked the toss in the first set to Juyeon. And I lost track off the court for a bit in the last. But the boys covered for my mistakes. I should practice my jump serve again, though. Im sure I can improve in terms of power.” You smile, listening to his excited explanations, his gaze still halfway on the court. Sometimes you wish there was something in your life you could be burning for so passionately.

“You’re always so hard on yourself.” He smiles at that, a familiar refrain. You’ve done this a million times after his matches, it always goes the same.

“Someone has to keep me in check. Especially now that I’m captain.”

“You should take more time to celebrate your achievements, though.”

“That’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it?”

As if divinely timed, Juyeon sticks his head out the locker room door. His hair is drooping wet, droplets of water running down his neck before being soaked up by the towel he’d slung over his shoulders.

“Did I hear you speaking of celebrations?”

Maybe he was just eavesdropping, you decide.

“We’re gonna celebrate making it to quarter finals tonight. At Haknyeon’s at eight, you should join!”

“They’ve got better stuff to do than party with you knuckleheads,” Jacob jokes good-naturedly, “some of us care about our degree, you know.”

“I think your degree will survive one night of letting loose.”

“I whole-heartedly agree.”

“Great! So you can make sure our captain shows up for more than half an hour for once!”

“Get a shirt on!” Jacob exclaims, pushing his team mate back into the cabin. “Half naked! That’s no way to speak with a lady!”

“And where’s the lady?” You hear Juyeon chuckle at his own joke before the locker room door falls close behind the both of them. Jacob sticks his head out for another second.

“Will you wait for me?” He asks, as if this is the first game you’ve come to watch, as if you didn’t scream cheering slogans at the top of your lungs for one and a half hours, as if you aren’t wearing his name on your face, scribbled onto your cheeks with bright red lipstick. 

“Always,” you smile.

It takes Jacob all of fifteen minutes to come back out of the locker room. At this point most of his team mates have left, most of them stopping to chat with you. Other than the new first semesters, they’ve all come to know you as a permanent fixture in the extended team. Even though you reliably decline the offer to join the management, you make it to every game and most practices. Through Jacob’s friendship, you’ve picked up all terminology for the sport, and, through your constant support in research, you’ve gotten quite a thorough understanding of the tactics behind a play. Not to mention that you’re always front row when it comes to support and cheering. Juyeon high fives you as he leaves, reminding you of your promise to drag Jacob along to the team party.

“Who said anything about a promise?”

“If you actually get him to come, then I promise to get you free drinks all night.”

“Tempting,” you muse sarcastically but Juyeon seems to miss your tone.

“Yeah, it’ll be awesome, seriously. You two have really missed out on some great parties over the years!”

“The greatest part are usually the wonderfully embarrassing stories you tell of each other afterward. Plus the blackmail video proof.”

“And this time you can be a part of them!”

You’re not sure how to reply to the earnest expression on Juyeon’s face.

“Thanks, but I’ll stick to watching the blackmail.”

He only shrugs in response before sauntering off with one of the newer recruits for the team.

You spend your time scrolling through TikTok until a soft tap on your shoulder and the waft of a familiar aftershave alert you to the presence of your best friend. You look up, smiling, and are met with a similar expression on Jacob’s face.

“How about we go to your favourite café to celebrate?” He asks.

“Shouldn’t we go to your favourite place?”

“My favourite place is wherever you are.” He replies, as if it’s the most normal thing to say. 

You exhale unattractively through your nose as you two start walking in unison.

“Save your sappy pick-up lines for your girlfriend.”

“No girlfriend, as you know.”

“Alas, so you have to waste them on me.”

“I don’t think they’re wasted on you.”

“Ugh stop, you incorrigible flirt.”

“I’m not flirting.”

“So that’s why every girl I know has a crush on you.”

“They do?” You punched his arm at the excited expression on his face.

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Jacob laughed, rubbing his biceps where you hit him. “But don’t tell Juyeon. He’ll get sulky.” 

“Maybe you should give him flirt lessons?”

“I should. His idea of flirting is taking his shirt off.”

“Ah so he was flirting with me today,” you grinned sarcastically, looking over to your best friend. But instead of the expected teasing, you were met with a surprisingly serious expression.

“I think so. He’s been trying to show off for a while. Why else would he invite you to the party?” You were stunned into silence while Jacob held the door to your favourite café open.

“I thought he was just using me to get you to the party.” 

“That was just his excuse. He talks about you a lot.” You were floored at this new development, and your expression must have been betraying as much because one glance send Jacob into giggles.

“What’s with the disbelief? He’s not the first member to develop a crush on you.” You’re too preoccupied with sorting through all this new information to notice the way Jacob presses his lips together right after the statement, looking very much like someone who confessed something he’d rather not have.

“Anyway. What do you want? The usual?” You ignore his question in favour of returning to the can of worms he himself just opened. “So you’re saying that there are multiple of your team mates that are interested in me, right?”

Jacob groans, “I don’t know. Not right now, I guess. Juyeon was pretty clear about his… crush.” The words seem to pain him.

“But there have been several of your team mates interested in me?” You insist. He says nothing while studying the menu. You both know he won’t choose anything other than his regular iced americano anyway, so you nudge him none so gently.

“Don’t ignore me!”

“I’m not ignoring you! I just don’t know what to tell you. I guess, yeah, several. Over the years a few of them said stuff.” Jacob doesn’t turn around to face you during your conversation, opting to instead order for the both of you. You watch the barista being a little too touchy when giving him his change. She winks at Jacob. Your best friend really can’t go anywhere without being ogled. And you couldn’t be mad if you tried, you have eyes after all. Anyone, who’s ever exchanged more than three words with Jacob Bae, can tell that his kind demeanour, sparkling eyes, and fluffy hair are the stuff movies are made of. Heather here (as the name tag on her uniform informs you), seems to agree. As you cling onto your best friend’s biceps, she gives you a scalding glare.

“What stuff?” You ask. He finally faces you when the two of you make your way over to the pick-up counter. Jacob seems thoroughly unamused by your antics.

“I don’t know, dude. Just that you’re, like, cute or whatever,”

“Who said that?”

“Okay, time to change the topic,” he smiles.

“Why? Are you scared I’ll be mad when I find out what big, ole hunks of men you’ve been gate-keeping from me? What’s up with that, by the way? Are they all spineless or did you actually tell them not to ask me out?” His silence is answer enough.

“Jacob Bae! You are the reason none of your super hot athlete friends ask me on dates? What kind of best friend are you? Since when has this been going on?”

Jacob stews more in his silence but you decide not to let him get out of this particular question. He manages to hold out until you’ve both picked up your drinks and slid into your regular booth. Still avoiding eye contact like he could contract the plague from you he mutters ‘sincehighschoolorsomething’ in such a small voice that you have to lean forward and ask him to repeat himself.

“It’s not that I’m gate-keeping them from you!” He says in lieu of repeating his words, “If anything I’m gate-keeping you! You deserve better.” You heart flutters in your chest at the compliment, given in such a frank and matter-of-fact manner. Especially with how Jacob doesn’t even seem to notice how sweet his declaration was. He simply forges ahead in his explanation.

“You should see them, some of them can’t even wash their uniforms regularly. Do you remember Mark from algebra? I swear he didn’t even shower after every practice!” Jacob whines.

“Mark?” You near shout, the warm feeling behind your ribcage vaporising in a second from the surprise, “from algebra? Are you telling me it’s because of you that I couldn’t get a boyfriend in freshman or sophomore year of high school? And when I always encouraged all the girls that told me they had a crush on you, too!”

He blushes, “but girls are girls and boys are trash.” He says with such naïveté that you can’t help but laugh, all your righteous anger dissipating.

“That’s a valid point,” you concede between fits of laughter. “And, in all honesty, if you think they’re not good enough for me, then I trust your judgement.” You wink at him, but miss the way he flushes an even brighter shade of red as you take a sip of your drink.

“Anyway, the party tonight?”

“What about it?”

“Are you coming along of your own accord or do I have to drag you?”

He frowns, “But what about our victory tradition?”

You look at his petulant pout and cock an eyebrow. As important as your tradition is to both of you, you know that it’s also a convenient excuse. There’s a short staring contest between the two of you, but it’s clear that Jacob will cave first, as usual. He rolls his eyes as if there was important information printed on the inside of his skull.

“Fine! If you wanna go that bad, I’ll come along. I know that you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Awesome! You can pick me up later, I gotta go get ready.” You blow him a kiss that he pretends to bat away. “Be on time!”

“Maybe!” You reply, knowing full well you won’t.

You let Jacob into the tiny space that is your dorm room at seven fifty-five sharp, dressed in an oversized t-shirt that might have once been his.

“Is that my t-shirt?” He asks instead of a greeting.

“Who knows,” you reply getting back to your make-shift make-up station on the ground in front of your desk. Jacob plops down on your bed.

“Watch it,” you say, throwing him a piercing gaze through the mirror, “I was gonna wear that!” He gets back up immediately, looking at the mess on your bed.

“All… one, two… six of these dresses?” He asks.

“Don’t get smart with me. Obviously not. But I haven’t picked one yet. What do you think?” He takes a closer look at the heap of clothes and is immediately transported back to the last (and only) time that he helped you get ready for a party like this. He’d already been apprehensive that night, favouring a comfortable night-in with his best friend over a crowded, rowdy place of strangers. But the way your eyes lit up with the prospect of mingling made him cave, just like today. Of course, the party turned out less than ideal. So much so that it kept you from insisting taking him to another one for the better part of your university life. He should thank his lucky stars that it lasted this long. Jacob knows he could have refused you today. He could have insisted that he still felt uncomfortable, that parties simply weren’t his cup of tea. And you would have given in, easily and with the same smile as always, happy to spend the night lounging in one of your dorm rooms. Be that as it may, he also knows he couldn’t have said no to you even if it had cost him his arm. He just wants to see you happy, he thinks. And so he takes the red dress up first, ready to play stylist for you if it’s what you want. The dress pretty, but the neckline makes him a little nervous. Jacob puts it back down to look at one of the black ones instead. It glitters softly if he turns it in the light. He tries to gauge your reaction to any of the dresses by throwing a glance into the mirror but you’re completely engrossed in drawing a straight wing with your eyeliner.

It looks good, he thinks. And the glittery makeup would probably look really nice with the dress he’s holding right now. Just to be sure, he decides to take a look at the other three, holding up a dark blue piece and another black one (just how many of these do you own?).

“What do you think?” You say, directly next to his ear, and Jacob flinches, causing his shoulder to hit you in the jaw.

“Shit! Sorry!” He says but you’re only laughing. He gets temporarily blinded by the sparkle in your eye. Maybe you should cool it a little with the glittery make-up. He stutters, “Umm…”

“You good?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“It’s fine, Jake. Nothing a little plastic surgery couldn’t fix.” You’re rubbing your chin in such exaggerated suffering that he knows you’re fine. “I just need to know which dress I should wear so that we’re not even later than we already are.”

“Who’s fault is that?” He nags.

“Well, I would’ve hurried more if you had picked a dress more quickly.”

“I did pick a dress quickly.”

“Yeah? Which one?” There’s a split second in which Jacob feels self-conscious about his choice. He’s usually so adept at pin-pointing the things you’re going to like, but the way you look at him with your hair and face all done-up makes him falter a little. The next second, he’s almost mad at himself. How ridiculous of him to fear that you would ever think of less of him for his opinion, much less disregard it.

“This one,” he says, holding up the black one.

“Oooh, sparkles!” Is your only comment. You hold it in front of your body in the mirror. But instead of agreeing with his choice you look back at him again.

“What is Juyeon’s favourite colour?” The question takes Jacob so by surprise that he doesn’t even manage to stop himself from answering, “blue.”

“Okay,” you toss the brilliant, black piece back onto your bed unceremoniously and grab the dark blue one. You stare at him with those intense eyes and Jacob can’t help the thought that, as stunning as you look now, he prefers you with no make-up on. He only notices that he’s still staring when you clear your throat.

“Huh?”

“Could you turn around?”

“Oh shoot, yeah, sure,” he says, spinning around, glad that you won’t see how his face heats up. Maybe it’s your stupid make-up or the fact that you’re clearly getting ready with thoughts of Juyeon on your mind but Jacob is feeling like the air in the room has gotten a lot thicker. He wonders shortly whether he should tell you that he thinks you’re better than doing all this for a man, choosing your dress according to his preferences, dolling yourself up for Juyeon instead of for yourself. But when he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it, prompting him to turn around.

“Ok, done. What do you think?”

Jacob thinks he’ll be hard pressed to keep Juyeon, or anyone’s, eager hands off of you.

The two of you make it to the party only five minutes short of an hour late. Haknyeon is the one to open the door, letting you know where to find snacks, the beer pong table, and the drinks. He looks you up and down, making you wonder if there’s something wrong with your dress. Jacob steps closer to you, one arm on your elbow. He continues to stick close to your side, while you two get a feel for the place. There seems to be a game of truth or dare going on the floor of the living room and Jacob easily steers you away from it.

He hands you some form of alcohol in a red solo cup. You give it a sip, “ooh, it’s good.”

“Don’t let it out your sight. There’s not only team mates here, but also a bunch of people I don’t know well.” You chuckle.

“Ok, mom.”

Eventually, you loose your best friend in the crowd, in what looks suspiciously like a whisking away by his team mates. Possibly to get him to do a keg stand. You chuckle, thinking back to the first and only time you attended one of these after-match parties in your first semester with Jacob. The secret to why Jacob was so adamant about avoiding team parties was a less than stellar escapade with the beer keg in his freshman year that none of his older team mates would let him forget. Before you can try to go looking for him in a much needed rescue attempt, someone taps you on the shoulder. You spin around to be faced with Juyeon, in a leather jacket, open over a skin-tight shirt that leaves little to the imagination.

“Hey,” he greets you, “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“You should know that I’m always down for a little get-together.”

He laughs, “this isn’t exactly the right place then.”

“Well, as long as there’s people I like around.”

Juyeon smirks, resting his forearm against the wall next to your head and leaning into you.

“Some more than others, maybe?” He whispers under his voice. You can smell the vodka-o on his breath but it doesn’t really bother you. You mirror his smirk, leaning a little more forward.

“The jury’s still out on that, but if someone were to get me a new drink, I’d definitely warm up to them.” He snatches your empty solo cup out of your hand immediately.

“I’ll be right back,” he winks, making a beeline for the kitchen. You bite your lips in anticipation of where this night might lead but your thoughts are rudely interrupted by a familiar voice, “You look silly.” Your best friend’s expression betrays another close call with the keg. His eyes, usually bright and soft, have darkened.

“Rude!”

“What’s got you grinning like an idiot like that?”

“Oh just this and that.”

“Is ‘this and that’ roughly 1,80 tall, mildly annoying on a good day, and our best middle blocker?”

“Don’t let him hear that, it’ll get to his head.”

“Men are trash after all,” your best friend says, his face still impassionate. You bump hips with him in an effort to get him out of his funk. “But some are a little less trash,” you wink at him and he finally gives you a smile.

“I don’t really know if I should feel offended or flattered.”

Jacob keeps you company until Juyeon returns with your solo cup, filled to the brim and reeking of alcohol. You take a sip and try not to grimace from the taste. Seems like he threw every type of alcohol he could find in the kitchen into one cup and topped it off with an inch of sprite.

“Thanks,” you say anyway.

“Have you seen the pond in Haknyeon’s backyard yet? It’s the second prettiest thing tonight.” He winks and you you can’t help but giggle. Behind you, quiet enough for Juyeon not to catch it, Jacob pretends to retch. The middle blocker holds an arm out for you to take and leads you to the garden. You miss the forlorn expression on Jacob’s face.

“I think Jacob’s best friend is super cute,” one of his team mates says, making the boy in question wheel around. “What?” He asks, incredulously, before he can stop himself. Mark looks over at him from where he’s changing. “Sorry, dude,” he chuckles, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Lucas chimes in, “at our last game she was wearing that tight t-shirt—“

“Stop… talking, please,” Jacob says, still all smiles, even though the way his team mates are talking about you makes his throat constrict. Lucas seems to either not catch his tone or choose to ignore it. “Her friend’s not bad either, huge pair of—“

“Oh my god, Lucas,” Jacob interrupts. Mark is starting to look very unhappy with where he took the conversation. Lucas just looks confused at Jacob’s reaction. “What? Are the friends of your friends also off-limits now?”

“No,” Jacob replies in between deep calming breaths, “I’d just appreciate it, if you didn’t talk about women like that in general. No matter who they are.” Lucas seems to really work through those words in his head before he shrugs his shoulders, “Ok.” Jacob is almost certain he heard Mark sigh relief.

When you meet him outside the changing room, as you always do, you have no idea about the conversations that had just happened inside the locker room. You give him a big hug, which Jacob cleverly uses to stare down Mark behind your back, who had been lingering a little too long for his liking.

“You did so well!” You say, also as always. Jacob doesn’t have it in himself to negate your gushing praises today. “Thanks,” he simply breathes, with a smile. You walk home together, another daily ritual, except today you take a detour to try out a new café you’d been talking about for ages. It’s supposed to have super cute interior and be the new hotspot in town. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. He always treasures these small moments. You’re in the final strokes of your junior year now, and time is getting increasingly scarce between both of your academic and leisurely commitments.

“You find a table, I’ll go order,” Jacob says and you agree immediately, already on the lookout for one of the lounging chairs on the deck in front of the building. He makes his way inside, immediately glad you decided to sit outside in the sun. The huge glass front of the café makes the interior feel like a hundred degrees. He walks over to the counter and is surprised to be greeted by a familiar face.

“Mrs. Oropeza, I didn’t expect to see you here!” He greets the elderly lady. She smiles warmly, the same smile she’s always smiled, ever since babysitting him when he was little. It’s been a constant fixture in his and your life to run over to her house in the neighbourhood in search of freshly baked pudín, a place to watch Sunday TV volleyball matches or a shoulder to cry on over scraped knees. Once Jacob took up volleyball in middle school, she made sure to come to all of his matches. She insisted it was not only for his sake, but also because she loved the sport.

“Well, it’s grown so quiet in the neighbourhood that I’ve been longing for a chance to get out again.”

“So you started working here?”

“Just sometimes. It’s not hard work to man the register, and I enjoy getting to talk to people.” Jacob smiled at her warm expression. He didn’t doubt that her positive presence would do the café well. “So what can I get you today, cariño?”

“I think I’ll take a latte, and one homemade lemonade for my friend.” 

“Oh, how lovely. Are you two still as inseparable as ever?”

Jacob smiles fondly at the memories of the two of you together on Mrs. Oropeza’s old, orange couch, munching on her baked goods while watching cartoons. “Yeah,” he says, smiling fondly, “we’re on our way home from one of my games.”

“Ah, I heard you were playing the Tigers today. A terrible team, in my opinion. No sportsmanship.” Jacob chuckled at her committed interest in high school volleyball teams.

“Who said that?” He laughs.

“I did,” she winks at him while ringing him up and telling the part-timer next to her his order. He hands her the cash as she inquires about the outcome of the game. “We won,” he says, his chest swelling with pride a little. He was sure that Mrs. Oropeza had heard about how infamous their opposing team was for their power and endurance.

“Of course you did. I always keep telling you the setter is the centre point of every good team. He’s the game master, without a good setter, the rest of the team has an infinitely harder time.” Jacob only nods amiably as he listens to his old neighbours often repeated chorus. “And you were always a brilliant setter,” she continues, making his cheeks burns.

“I tell all the ladies at my book club, as far as high school volleyball goes, you haven’t seen a perfect set, if you haven’t seen Jacob Bae play.” At this point, the boy in question is sure that his entire face is bright red. He waves his hand in a throw-away motion while trying to dissuade Mrs. Oropeza from uttering any more praises. He’s lucky because she seems to sense his discomfort with being the centre of attention. She let’s him go with a simple, ‘say hello to your other half for me’.

next | series masterlist | general masterlist

[teleportationmagic]

Most days Acier spends her time in the library.

The simmiering sheen on the banners that sweep through the space glitter back at her, a pale purple. Her family's colour. She'd always been partial to blue herself, but there was something to be said about rebellion.

Well. It had been rebellion at sixteen. Now that she was fully grown, it was disdain, maybe. Selfishness, if she was any less valuable a member of House Silva. How funny for them, that they had two heads of house, one which came from the outside and yet fit in perfectly, their own eldest daughter contenting herself in matters of war. They'd make a better set if they switched.

And yet. Here they were. She wonder how her husband is doing, handling his duties along with the children. She wonders how Nozel is faring, as a new magic knight. She wonders if Nebra and Solid have taken her death well.

She doesn't wonder about Noelle. Her heart throbs, at all once, and she puts it out of her mind. Unproductive and useless, she doesn't have the time for it.

The library is full of texts, none of them novel. Most of them have pages that have become blurry around the edges, from where Acier had rushed through them barely skimming. Grimgar was fully intact, thankfully. As were the pictures of her children's faces.

When she tires of it (or gets so much more tired of it, that staring at the tauntingly familiar texts goes from uncomfortable to untolerable,) she marched out to the courtyard and casts. Opposite castle Silva is a dark brick-stones spire of it's own - likely Spade's, considering the occupant and the decoration, though she's never bothered to ask - and above the both is a writhing mass of leeches.

She tries to ignore them. Her steel comes to her easy as always, sharp and pointed, an exercise in razor perfection. There's no more satisfaction in it, not for a long time, not since she came her and stopped being able to improve, but the motions are repetitive and rhythmic and soothing in their own way.

On some level she expects Vanica. This is as good as an invitation, after all, practising in full view of that eyesore. But she lets it come as a suprise, when her back is peirced.

She flips and turns, driving her own lance into her. They stand for a moment, taste of iron in the air, before the pull back.

She smiles. She always smiles. Acier can't - it would be irritating if she knew just ho much she valued to novelty of this fight - but Vanica always smiles enough for the two of them.

"Steel Magic; Dance of a Thousand Sparks"

The world lights up aroudn them, light reflecting off flecks of steel. She wants to make Vanica eat them.

She cackles, and responds with a barrage of her own, each parried against the legnth of her's. It's not a hard fight to win - in their past fight, Vanica had been far too depdant on Megicula and now stripped of her favour there was very little variety in her fight.

She wins. Predictably, her hand halfway through Vanica's chest, she wins. The soft flesh of her sticks to her hand as she pulls away.

"I won. Leave."

"I will. Just look here for a second?" And she does. She should have stayed her course, but let noone accuse her of cowardice.

Lips land against her, tasting overfermented. She destroys half her face for the insult, a cackling noise echoing around them both.

"Oh come on," She croons it from her place aginst the floor.

"Leave." Acier feels like pure ice. Or she should. Something moves in her, more than it should.

It's been a very very long time.

"Oh come on." She's pieces back together, bit by bit. Nothing changes here. "Aren't you bored, Acier?"

The kiss had done something fundamental to them, she was sure of that. "Not bored enough."

"So you will be!" She cuts her off before Acier can continue, another step into her personal space. "That's good to hear. Because I'm not bored at all - not so long as you keep beating me!"

A shudder shakes down her spine. Because that was the thing with Vanica - even when you won, you lost. "I will drag you back there, Vanica."

She grins, wide and manical. "Will you?"

She does. Forced to bear the disrespect, she does. The steel is marred, frayed, and she spends some time repairing the barrier before returning home.

After the library, she spends the most time on her bed. She can hear the siren song of apathy, and despite knowing she should be more insulated against it, sometimes...

Sometimes she wants to sleep forever. Most of the time, that disturbs her the most. Right now? She longs for it. Unconsciousness drowns her.

[orphicpoieses]

Writing Log

August 3, 2023

WIP: Project Rosary

Phase: Active Writing

Percentage: ~ 50%

Hello and welcome back to a new writing log.

I am slowly coming near the halfway mark in my Project Rosary Part 1. Even though life is stressful right now (exam season started in Germany two weeks ago), I am fairly consistent in writing every morning before studying.

Creating stories in these times is crucial for me. I immediately feel stressed, when I cannot write (especially if people tell me to not write during the exam phase!). It is like my little escape from everyday work.

But to be honest with you, I am currently a bit unmotivated. Not only because stuff currently happens within my family, but also because everything seems to be quite exhausting. So, what’s been new these days, is that I am trying to get anything down. A new Tumblr post, stuff for my project, new stuff… All of that.

Some of you have already seen that I came up with a new kinda fantasy story, that has no particular meaning, whatsoever.

It doesn’t have a name, beside the codename for Tumblr, so I can tag it: Project Unnamed. It is probably the shittiest story I have ever written. Not only because it is mainly pure Romantasy, which I normally don’t write, but also the fact, that I am writing some elven romance thing while complaining about how many elven or fae romance is out there? It’s kinda ironic.

To give you a little insight in the quick story (including some fancy banners I made for this):

It is about a somehow royal girl (I haven’t decided on that just yet), who lives in a world where magic is banned and seen as a wicked thing. One day, she gets in danger in the nearby woods, where a mysterious man saves her. Fascinated by his ethereal presence, she decides to find him again (which obviously works), where she finds out that he is able to control magic. He seems to come and go like a spirit and so she calls him the white spirit, also because he doesn’t tell her anything about him, besides the facts, that are obvious to her. She gets him to teach her about magic and soon enough, she finds out, that she can use the forbidden force too. They kinda have a secret relationship going on (with probably many red flags - I don’t know if he is a good or a bad guy). The drama comes from the secret relationship and when people find out about the elf in the forest.

I already know that this is going to be bad. I have no intention on publishing it. Maybe one day on Wattpad or as snippets here on Tumblr, but this is probably the most cliché Romantasy story you can come across. Even though I kinda like the characters…

But this is never going to any publisher in this world. It’s to bad for that.

If you are lucky enough to grasp an update on this story in form of a writing log, you are probably blessed. Project Unnamed is not even considered an active WIP.

But back to the original project, of which I am very proud of.

Project Rosary is still right before the half-time of the book, but I only have to finish the current scene and I am done. I like the pace in which things are falling together. Also, because I have the time to come up with solutions to plot holes in the storyline.

Now, as I am slowly coming to the end of one book of the series, I ask myself more, if I should wait until all seven books are done and then publish the first one. If people read the current book first, they will be (a little bit) spoilered for the rest. But if I publish the rest first, they get spoilered for the current book. It’s a bit of a challenge here, since everything connects to each other.

Luckily, I have until the final draft is done, to decide wether or not I publish now or later.

And that sums up, what’s new.

I hope, you enjoyed reading this writing log and if so, please consider to share it and subscribe to my Tag List, so that you get notified when I post.

See you soon and bye bye 💕

From the tag list: @ladyazulina

Other: @writeblrsupport

[desirepathzine]

Jeff Buckley Saved My Life in Orlando, Florida by Randi Eversole

In March of 2016, I was on a charter bus, headed towards Orlando, Florida. I was a senior in high school. The trip was with my Southern Baptist evangelical church choir. I did not want to be there.

The choir tour was a non-negotiable part of every year, a way for all of the concerned parents of young church goers to ship their kids off during spring break so they would spend it in service of the Lord and not mingling with all the other degenerates who were out of class. Ostensibly it was a week full of "volunteering" to some degree, singing at shelters and nursing homes, paying money to sing contemporary christian worship music in historic cathedrals. touring around whatever major city from the safety of the bus, so on. The trip was to a different scary big city every year. Prior to Orlando I had found myself in Chicago, the year before Chicago we'd done an actual tour, saving souls in Jacksonville/Florida, Savannah/Georgia, and Charleston/SC.

By the time we were halfway through Chicago, I had started to articulate issues I had with this mission, and indeed the Southern Baptist denomination of Christianity as a whole. By the time a senior trip to Orlrando, FL was announced, I saw it for what it was: an excuse to take a bunch of kids to Disney World under the banner of Christianity.

For the 12 hour bus ride to Orlando, I had prepped a few albums to listen to, as I usually did when headed somewhere new. I had discovered many favorite artists tucked away at the front of the bus (they usually made all the students sit in the back, but I was prone to motion sickness, so I always ended up at the front with all of the chaperones, who largely left me alone).

That year, my album picks had included Grace, Jeff Buckley's only album. I had of course been familiar, you couldn't sift through a single Tumblr playlist without coming into contact with Hallelujah. I vaguely knew somewhere that he had passed, that he was all of my favorite vocalist's favorite vocalist, that sort of thing.

For whatever reason, somewhere in Georgia, I decided now was the time to listen to Grace for the first time. And my download of the album had somehow not copied Mojo Pin, the album's first track, to my iPod so I indeed did start the record listening to the title track. I quickly fixed this mistake on returning home. Ancient problems from a different time, truly.

I did not listen to another record for the rest of the week.

Here was a friend, a person striving for authenticity, an artist coming into his power. All of the things I desperately craved both to be and to be around. It was a balm and a shield against all of the empty expressions of the music I was going to sing that week, the manipulative key changes and nonsensical lyrics. Here was something real and special.

So many lyrics were reaching through time to hold my hand, the beautiful melodies and vocal acrobatics elevating me, taking me away from the bus window view of the interstate, to somewhere I felt safe and seen.

I was alone in many ways that week, alienated from the religion I was raised in, alienated from my peers who maybe at one point had been my friends but had steadily pulled apart from me in the latter months of high school when it became clear we were not going to be compatible adults, bunking in a drafty Hyatt Place with roommates I really didn't know at all, who argued ceaselessly when we were supposed to be sleeping. I had been relegated to a pullout couch in an attempt to get some space.

As any anxious and isolated neurodivergent teen girl would in the circumstances, I went on a deep dive that first dark night in Orlando, far away from home and surrounded by strangers, into Jeff, his life, his work. I listened to interviews to keep the noise at bay. In my search, I found a picture of Jeff, holding a phone, on a portable bed, presumably talking to a journalist, doing press. I tracked down the location. It was a hotel somewhere in Orlando, Florida.

(photos by Merri Cyr)

It was like waving at someone in another dimension.

Two days into the tour I looked down at the t-shirts we all had to wear, a mish mash of Bible references and key words in the shape of a cross, printed on ugly mint green and coral orange t-shirts (the orange stained my bra for weeks, it was horrible). The choir was given a 'theme' every year for the tours, one inspirational word that was supposed to drive the spiritual growth of 9-12 graders. The year in Chicago had been the "restore" tour (which is extremely problematic the longer you dwell on it). "What's the tour name this year?" I blearily asked one of the chaperones. "Oh, it's the Grace tour. Make sure you use the hashtag."

The tour was the first time I encountered an actively hostile audience during any of the shows. Looking back that seems strange, but nonetheless. We often performed for unsheltered folks, who were forced to listen to us boisterously praise the Lord as they tried to get something to eat or were otherwise seeking support. The show in question took place in a parking lot where an extremely questionable Christian charity group set up once a week to attempt to convert anyone who needed a hot meal. Somewhere in the hour long set of worship music, teenagers banging on trash cans under the guise of performing STOMP (yes, like the off-Broadway thing, which no one even knew because it was such a dated concept by 2016), a capella chamber music (I did that too), and emotionally manipulative skits, one of the people in the crowd started to yell. I don't remember the exact verbatim statements, but it was along the lines of "Why are you singing when we need food, need shelter?"

That night, at the mandated debrief/devotional portion of the night before they finally let us all go to bed, many of my peers expressed that they had never thought of the work that way, as something that could be potentially a nuisance, bothersome, something people were forced to suffer through in order to have their basic needs met.

That was a question I had been asking myself for over a year at that point, ever since pretending to "restore" Chicago in 2015. Did anyone really find inspiration in a bunch of white middle class teenagers singing their little hearts out over Coldplay instrumentals? Did the sloppy manual labor we tried to do at various places for people in need really benefit anyone? Did tired building custodians go back in the day after and correct the naive mistakes of suburban teenagers who were not given any option other than to figure out ways to be helpful? Much ink has been spilled over the epidemic of teenage-centered volountourism from churches, sending unqualified children to do labor to get closer to God, etc. I was tired of treating people less fortunate than this community like pawns to achieve karma points. I was tired of singing bad music. I was tired of feeling like a ghost.

When we got back on the bus, or returned to the hotel, or had mildly unsupervised free time at venues, I would check back in with Jeff. I listened to So Real over and over again, its simplicity was spellbinding. One night they carted us to Disney Springs, the shopping district on Disney property, to burn off steam before getting ready for another day of presumably hard work. I was too tired to traipse around, half-heartedly tagging along with folks that seemed indifferent to my presence. I sat down with a shaved ice and watched a pair of living statues performing in the humid evening, bronze and vaguely Victorian looking, glimmering under the ambient theme park lights. I watched them work a crowd while I listened to So Real and briefly became lost in a story that to this day I cannot recall correctly, some short-lived idea about statues yearning to be real. I started crying, not helped by the schedule that left us overworked and under-rested, and a lack of access to protein and actual nutrients beyond pizza.

Every night, I thought of Jeff on a hotel bed, years ago, in the same place as me. Was he alone? Did his worldview, the questions he screamed out towards the end of Eternal Life, his propensity for diving into the biggest emotions, isolate him like they isolated me?

It's easy to fall in love with someone who has passed, it makes it easy to assign them traits you admire or romanticize their short life. I don't think I fell in love with Jeff in that way, although it is undeniable that he was beautiful. I didn't need lips to kiss, I needed a shoulder to cry on, and it felt like there was a beautiful friend helping me chart a course out of self-loathing and getting mired in philosophical mud.

The last night of the tour, before the Friday fun day when all pretense of work is thrown out to go to a theme park or explore safely curated areas of the city, it was expected that somebody, a youth pastor or the choir director or a well meaning chaperone, would give a sort of pious pep talk, asking us if we really believed all the things we were singing, or were we just having fun on a spring break trip? Anyone who is familiar with Cry Nights at evangelical summer camp knows this tactic. Overstimulate and exhaust young people with still developing brains, feed them a steady diet of sweets and carbohydrates, and then the claws of emotional manipulation will sink so much deeper. And then make them go sing a concert with exhausted voices and clogged sinuses from crying, where their emotions and convictions will run so high, that surely no one in the audience will go unmoved.

That last pep talk reared its ugly head before the last concert, as I presumed it would. But I didn't really listen, while the tears flowed around me. In my head, I was sitting across from Jeff Buckley at the pullout bed, quietly centering myself, trying to find peace in the midst of the chaos. We smiled at each other and said nothing in this vision.

I returned home, glad to be done with youth choir forever, vowing ot never go back to the church I had been raised in. (and also I finally listened to Mojo Pin since it didn't make it onto my iPod)

I was trying my best to give myself grace under strange and infuriating circumstances. Jeff taught me how. Being curious and sensitive is a strength, rage can fuel beauty, seeking authenticity is a worthy journey. That this situation was temporary and I would not have to live my life beholden to the whims of a religious institution that actively benefitted from my fears. Grace, real grace, given freely without the expectation of a transaction, is beautiful. I returned home, a week before my eighteenth birthday, and began the long process of figuring out what I actually believed, what I actually valued, and pursuing the things that filled me with joy at full speed, a road that I am still traveling.

[robertdowneyjjr]

Tell me about a part of a WIP where a character eats or sleeps (if you wanna) ❤️

hi!! i haven’t received asks in a while so this was a lovely surprise, thank you!

i don’t have a lot of WIPs and most of them are literally, like, a paragraph. BUT here is one that i started over a year ago called all the time in his world, which was the original basis for what i’d ended up writing for stony loves steve 2022. essentially, i realized that a lot of people tend to write tony as someone whose love language is physical touch or gift giving, but i wanted to explore the idea of quality time being his love language because, well. lots of reasons, really. so this was written in steve’s POV as he gets to know tony throughout the mcu, canon compliant, except for the bit where i made it stevetony and decided to conveniently ignore the deaths in endgame 😌

here’s a lil snippet from the shawarma scene, where steve begins to really see tony:

They should be helping with cleanup. Perhaps lending a hand with search and rescue. Or maybe they should have each gone directly back to bed to sleep off the post-battle exhaustion. They’d earned it, after all. But Stark had insisted on trying out the shawarma place he’d happened to come across in the middle of fighting the Chitauri, so here they are.

Now, Steve has always been one for post-battle downtime, but sitting in a half-destroyed restaurant that serves only shawarma—something he’d only just heard of thirty minutes ago—is not his typical idea of R&R.

To be fair, the food is delicious. Sadly, Steve finds it difficult to fully appreciate the burst of flavors across his tongue when he’s too drained to even lift his head up from where it rests against his fist. Not to mention the air conditioning in the place is busted from the battle; Steve, still in his uniform, feels increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stays in the enclosed space of the restaurant, with only the open door and broken windows letting in the slightest breeze that barely soothes him from the stifling summer heat of New York.

He picks up a soggy french fry and swipes it across the puddle of ketchup in front of him. As he lazily munches away, he takes stock of the ragtag team of Avengers gathered around him. Everyone looks just as tired as he feels. On his right, Romanoff and Barton are huddled close together with one of his legs claiming half her chair, each pushing bits of food back and forth to encourage one another to eat. Thor sits on Steve’s other side, sluggish in his movements but steadily packing away the super-sized pita Stark had ordered for him, humming with delight every few bites he takes. Across from Steve, Banner is halfway through his meal, quietly satiating his hunger after all the smashing he had done as the Other Guy.

Stark, despite being the one to suggest the post-battle meal, has hardly touched the food set down in front of him. Steve watches as the man looks around the restaurant, slowly chewing away as if eating is just an afterthought. Their gazes catch, and although Stark looks like he’s ready to fall asleep at any moment, there’s a bright glimmer behind his eyes as he offers Steve a small grin. Before he can reciprocate, Stark has already turned away, nudging Banner and offering the rest of his chicken wrap to his fellow scientist.

An hour later, the table has been cleared and Steve is more than ready to go back to his apartment, wash the soot and grime off his body. The six of them are standing in a circle outside the restaurant, about to say their goodbyes, when Stark speaks up.

“That was fun. We should definitely come back sometime.”

The team had barely talked during the meal. After a short discussion of what was worth trying on the menu, they had quickly descended into an admittedly comfortable silence once the food had arrived. Nonetheless, it hardly ranks in the top ten of Steve’s most enjoyable social gatherings, and that includes all those times when he was still a shrimpy kid tagging along on Bucky’s dates.

Between his description of the early dinner they just shared and his calling the battle a party, Stark sure has some strange standards when it comes to what counts for entertainment these days. Steve really doesn’t have the energy to unpack all of the billionaire’s eccentricities though, so all he can do is reply in kind to what he’s certain is an empty promise on Stark’s part: “Absolutely. Maybe on a day when we’re not all dead on our feet?”

The smile that Stark responds with catches Steve by surprise. It’s blinding, full of hope, and wider than the one that was bestowed upon him while they were eating. Steve thinks, for the first time since they met, he’s finally said the right thing to Tony.

[yutzen]

Castles in a Black Sky

Seven clans, seven banners, seven versions to make one. Indeed, the story that follows has been compiled from Bannerbound sources, much to the presumable chagrin of some of my readers in the Great Dust Gyre. To them I say: I apologize, but I know a common narrative when I see one.

If it helps, I must commend the effort each of the seven clans put into the preservation of their particular version. All the usual work of collecting the scattered scraps, combing through the dust and dirt of pre-Refuge history and scouring the embellishments of overenthusiastic or agenda-driven writers and tellers? All practically done for me before I got started. It’s preservation done right, in a way a jaded soul like me can appreciate and even celebrate. I will say: If retaining all you can of who you used to be is truly what the Seven are looking for, you are doing it right.

It’s thus almost a shame that the work I had to do was to find the parallels and common themes, and step forwards with the apparent sacrilege of weaving them into one. All I’ll say is this: Someone had to.

They say death is one of the only things we all have in common, but they barely know how right they are! It hardly matters where you were born, where you moved, where you died, and where you’ll go, everyone gets plucked off the world. And more importantly, one thing we can all agree on? We all get reaped by the same Harvester[1]. Pits, Skies and whatever else the others have, wherever you’re going, you’ll be sent on your way by the exact same fellow as everyone else. And she’ll[2] find ya anywhere and everywhere.

But is that all she is? One who lives for the job and nothing else? You would think so, and dare I say even she might have, once. But in those rare lulls between each passing? In those quiet times between wars where all flourish, or in those places where there’s nothing left to drop? In those time well before us, even? Turns out there’s a lot of time to fill. And even those diligent, stone-minded sorts who live to work have to find something to do in those bits of meantime.

Of course, someone like her took a long while to realize this. Still well before our time, but plenty had stood up and fallen by the time she started to wonder, maybe there was more to these interims than waiting. One can guess the thought caught her right as she was looking at the bones of someone she’d sent off a little later than usual, on a busy day. Maybe a catch-up sort of day. It was one of those fellas that never got sent off right, though, that one’s clear[3]. One of those fellas that scatter their bones all over her foyer, so to speak, because they came right along with the part of ‘em that mattered most. She just shooed ‘em along before that, made the lot take those bones with ‘em to whatever came next. But that one time, something must’ve happened for her to start wondering, maybe she could do something with those, with the wait ahead of her.

Quick as she is – don’t need to waste time moving when you’re already there – she’d have them tucked away before the next one came in, saving them up in some forgotten corner, some place so dead, so bereft of anything that she had to pluck it from the rest of the realm like a common soul. But the pile seemed disorderly, chaotic, didn’t seem like it was making the most of its space, so she tidied it up. Then did it again, after the thought there’d be more bones crossed her mind, they’d need to fit somewhere, may as well make them support each other! Halfway through making the base of a decent pillar before duty called again. Or at least, that’s what she saw it as when she got back to it later… How much later? Doesn’t matter. What matters is she had another handful of bones with her once she did, from another poor fool who dropped dead where no one but her would find ‘em.

Something about this caught her, practically entranced her. Maybe she finally realized there was something else other than her job and the wait. Or maybe she saw a future in these shapes she was putting together, or the potential ones in her head now that she had something to think about. But before she’d realized, she had built herself a room. A proper, actual foyer, where the metaphorical one had been. That’s the one you see in paintings[4], though she’d done work on it since then. And she thought what any of us would’ve, by then: “Maybe I could build a big house to go with this”. And so, she got started on that, and what was once a house became a manor, and then a proper Castle. Oh, she had to wait for wars to sweep across the olden lands for it, for drought and ice and plague to sweep by a few times, but sooner than she or anyone would realize, she had a Castle to herself, that would put anything we’ve built to shame. All of it from the bones of the forgotten.

As she who reaps us all took a moment of peace once the living had found accords, and the passings slowed down, she started to notice a few things amiss. For even the cleanest, most bleached of bones still have their scraps – bits of carrion, the little pests that feast on it, whispers of mourning, all wisps of clingy life. Very little of it manages to hold on when passing into her realm, but something always does when you move enough bones to dwarf even the tallest of Ironbound Keeps[5]. These scraps of rot and life had piled on enough that she could see figments of actual life in her realm, skittering and wandering the halls, taking shape little by little as it found more to shape itself. And the more scraps they found, the closer each little wisp could get to becoming something…

And it fascinated her. As someone who’d seen life come and go, but never stay, the keeper of a threshold where no one lingered more than a few moments, the idea of having something in her realm even remotely close to alive was thrillingly new. She had something to look forward to beyond her job now! Even if every realm fell, and her work came to an end, there would be something still!

So she committed to these collections, these architectures, more than ever before. She looked forwards to those neglected souls that weren’t sent off right, because there would be more for another Castle, one greater than the last. More scraps for the entities that slowly came to be within these structures. Now even a simple delay could mean she’d get there before the mortals could do their part, and rake as much of life’s detritus as she could into her ever-greater foyer.

Well, it paid off. Castle after Castle arose by her hands, each far greater and more luxurious than the one before it – luxurious as bone can be, at least. But when the time came to assemble her next masterpiece, with a bundle of ivory where her shears usually were, she turned around and found there was no room. She’d gotten deeply invested in these Castles when there was no harvest to pursue, that she had utterly filled her own liminal realm. It seemed so utterly empty once, she never thought it would happen!

Then she looked back towards mortal lands. Not towards those places where all the dying had been done – those were hers already – but those that were almost there. Those that just needed a few more lives to go, a little push, and they would be right in her realm, too dead to contest. She turned her gaze towards one island in particular, surrounded by so many, greater than the rest and yet so much emptier, with but a few souls still standing upon it.

She reached for her shears once more.

And just like that, the island was gone[6].

The Castle she built after that was magnificent, and perhaps the liveliest of all. After all, it had come pre-inhabited, hadn’t it? And there was still plenty of room left for more. She had the ideas, too, the grand architecture for the next one whirling together in her immortal mind. All she needed was material.

You wonder why we take all the time and measures with the dead, no matter who? Strangers on the roads, enemies slain by our hand? You ever asked yourself why we bothered? This is why.

[1]An aggregated sort of translation from various different terms, with most referring to one whose job is to cut down and gather crops once grown and ready. Zau and Issouf are exceptions, both going with something closer to Gardener, with emphasis on trimming rather than reaping. In this, I am afraid I had to resort to the majority “vote”.

[2]Most of the seven Clans (Zau, Heese, Norrish, Vesnor) refer to this Harvester by female pronouns and terminology, while the remaining ones either use gender-neutral terms (Vesh, Issouf) or go far out of their way linguistically to not bring the matter up at all (Sofize).

[3]A branching point, with every clan referring to a different funerary method as the proper, loss-less way to send off the dead; all of them either permanently confine or destroy the body entirely. Levels of acceptance for other methodologies varied, but non-Clan methods were generally seen as passable, just not ideal.

[4]There are no less than 15 known artworks by the title of Atrium of the Harvest in the history of the Urul Peaks Clans and their predecessors, and it receives repeated mention and description in their fiction. Descriptions and details vary wildly beyond the ample use of bone, and even individual clans don’t have a unified vision of how it would look.

[5]Similar terminology is used in Bannerbound language to refer to the Ironbound Keep that gives their capital its name. The way it’s used seems to imply Ironbound Keeps were a class of fortification outright, and while the one the Seven currently occupy is the greatest of all, it’s by no means the only one (assuming, of course, that the ones in their realm still stand).

[6]This coincides with certain tales from Sofize, Norrish and Vesnor about “Azure Barrens”, a patch of water at the center of an archipelago where no wind stirred the waves, and where by all metrics there should be land, but they couldn’t find any. Given the current glacial state of the Urul Peaks realm, I imagine it’s become something of a moot point since then.

-Excerpt from “Who is the Lord Below? A Treatise on the Radiant and Cthonic”, authored by ‘the Ever-Restless Nirrhamidh’ (assumed pseudonym; author not yet identified and under active investigation)