#drum practice space near me

[srsdenver]

How To Find Your Perfect Drum Practice Room?

Practicing drums can be a challenge - especially when you don't have access to drum gear. Studio Rehearsal Spaces offers drum practice rooms or spaces which is a great way to practice your skills in Denver without having to buy expensive equipment. Read more here:-https://qr.ae/prkdit

[heywardsdoll]

your first kiss with pope was straight out of a fairy tale book. he'd taken to you the carnival, bought you a prize, and after that even offered to drive you back right on time. he's so cute. that's all you could think of. he was the prince you'd been waiting for.

you still remembered how pope's fingers drummed on the wheel, a cheeky smile on his face as he tried to sneak a look at you. you pretended that you weren't watching him, though you knew you were radiant with happiness. love was in the air, young love, sweet love.

he was everything that you'd ever wanted—a nice boy, a boy you could bring home, and for once a crush didn't mean pain. the way home had been peaceful, and you watched the stars glow under the dark, tapping on the window in a repetitive manner. noticing your restless, pope turned on the radio, and you shot him a grateful smile.

he was so careful with his driving, practically watching everything he could. you were tired of hiding your grin when you noticed how slow he was going, and oh, how nervous Pope seemed, as if this mattered more than anything.

it was only when he parked the car near your driveway that you got to look at him properly. where you got to admire the way his eyelashes kissed his cheek every time he blinked, or his full lips, or the way he was so lean and could probably fit perfectly in your arms. you shook yourself from those thoughts and instead focused on what was important. tonight. tonight was important.

"uh, thank you for tonight. i really liked it," you whispered, leaning closer to him, before your eyes flickered down to his lips, "i really like you." pope smiled, running a hand through his hair, letting out a chuckle. he was so close you could already imagine yourself kissing his lips.

"me too." pope exhaled, before quickly retreating nervously, "shit, i mean, i mean i like you, not commenting about how much i like myself or whatever–"

you let out a laugh before you clasped your hand around his mouth, "shh! no need to get nervous. don't ruin it." then you watched his kind eyes crinkle at the corners. it was only when you saw the way he relaxed when you took your hands off his mouth.

suddenly you felt out of place, blushing profusely as you hid your face in your hands. that was so rude of you! "wait, i didn't mean to cover your mouth, it was out of place for me to do that–"

here he grinned, taking his hands in yours. "nah, i liked it."

you blushed even more, pursing your lips to stop yourself rom beaming right at him. you were watching "you're cute," you whispered, slowly moving closer to him. the car windows were all fogged up, but you saw the way your house lights were off. tentatively, pope took a shakey breath as if torn.

gently though, his hand cupped your face, earnest eyes staring into yours. you bit your lip, watching his eyes flicker down. there was barely a sliver of space between the two of you.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes," you breathed out.

yes, yes, yes, you wanted to scream inside. almost awkwardly, his lips were on yours. he was so warm, his lips chaste on yours at first, only to become softer. his head was tilted forward, eyes half-lidded as you leaned into him even more. you could feel your breath catch. this was everything you wanted. he tasted like the caramel apples the two of you had shared earlier.

it was only after it was over, you smiled shyly, pursing your lips. he has some of your lipstick on his lips, a dazed smile on his face. it was then that pope reached out and fixed a lock of hair away from your face. you let yourself lean into his touch, but then gently started to get ready to leave. you watched him search your face for something, almost as if he was anxious the kiss meant nothing.

"good night, heyward," you murmured, letting a small giggle, "i'll see you around."

then you blew him a kiss, and before you left the car pulled him closer for another kiss. you hold his fingers close to your chest, before letting out a soft breath. you stared at him, biting your lip nervously.

"i really like you. don't screw this up," you whispered, feeling vulnerable as you play with the beads of your necklace.

but it almost all disappeared when pope leant in for one more kiss, softer this time, full of promise. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

taglist; @cerya @rainbowpiss34, @vi4goswrld, @th3eternalersi, @gothiccvnt6996, @sluggmuffin, @aynanasstuff

[koishua]

ㅤ      ㅤ   𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀yarenim evde (my darling is home).ㅤ ওㅤ

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀hwang hyunjin fluff fem reader .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀1.121k words no warnings enjoy .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀he comes home after gda2025! .ㅤ ও

Stepping into the confines of the familiar apartment’s front doors, he waits for the elevator to arrive from the topmost floor. The quiet bell alerts him to its arrival, ready to whisk him away to the place he calls home. The characteristic music assigned to elevators is absent. Small blessings, since his entire day had been about blaring speakers and blinding lights. Some quiet time was much needed to ease his desperate ear drums and nothing can stand between him and the soft touches of his favourite person alive (there are quite a few people he would commit near war crimes to meet, but we do not verge there).

When you open the door just as he is about to reach for his spare keys, the warmth of a home lived-in and loved greets him like an embrace, your arms pulling him in gently through the door and taking his coat before he reaches to undo his shoes. The world seems to tilt at its axis without warning and he has to rush to put a hand on the floor for balance, struck by an unforgiving moment of exhaustion now that he’s finally reached his safest space. 

“Woah,” you reach for the slumped over man by the shoe racks, soft hands gripping his assuredly, bringing him over to the sofa– thank God– closeby, “don’t worry. You aren’t dying, loverboy.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the teasing remark, content at finally catching the faint scent of your perfume clinging onto your clothes from earlier that morning. Lying down, he’s finally able to come back to his senses, making out a buzzing sound of what he assumes to be the coffee you loved to literal death. He has to fulfill his boyfriend duties and worry about your health, so he peeks over the back of the couch to reprimand, “You shouldn’t be drinking that at this time of the night.”

“Right, because you always listen to me when I tell you to rest. I’ll drink this, thank you.” You have to roll your eyes at his offended expression, though none taken. Offering him a mug of his favourite calming tea, you sit on the carpet by his side, coffee and tea resting on the small table until they cool down just enough to drink without scalding your tongues.

Hyunjin traces over the valleys of your face, flicking the bridge of your nose with a laugh from where he’s lying on his side, facing your direction like the sunflower to your sun. Your elbow rests on the cushion, supporting your cheek. The makeup his stylists had applied on him for their award show performance tonight looked impeccable, still, despite how worn his body felt. You admired the eyeshadow framing his brown eyes– so warm, so full of adoration, practically dripping with overflowing honey. 

“You did good,” your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw, “I was watching you and my friends kept gushing about you.” Your beloved’s face gleams with mirthful eyes, amused by the fact that none of your friends knew who your long-time boyfriend seemed to be, still. You were always the first one to tease them for being such big fans, devilishly keeping the tiny little secret that their favourite member has been in love with you for years now and you couldn’t imagine a life without him henceforth. 

The day he’d facetimed you sporting his brand new hair, you’d shrieked, dropping your phone in the process. He’d grown worried, wondering if you’d hated it, but you simply demanded he come home as soon as he possibly could. Why, he’d questioned, not that he’d ever refuse, and when you dropped the “We’re going to have so much fun.” bomb on him, he’d left his belongings on the spot, damn near hopping and skipping his way over.

Now, he is sliding down the cushion to huddle into your side. Warm tea in his hand, an arm slung comfortably around his sun’s shoulder to bring her closer without a single worry of being taken over by your scorching heat. Welcoming the destruction as much as the creation of everything beautiful in this world (his world, because so long as he has you, Hwang Hyunjin is a King and the whole world is his– you are).

Your fingers absentmindedly play with the hand over your shoulder he has graced you with, sipping on your caffeine concoction. “Congratulations on your Bonsang. You guys deserve it so much with how hard you work and deliver. Tell the boys that I’m so happy for them, too.” 

Light reaches his eyes when his lips pull apart into a wide smile, still exhilarated by the prospect of having won. “Thank you, my boss lady.” He presses a chaste kiss on your temple, getting a waft of your shampoo he’s used on more than a handful of occasions, later on finding one of his own in the shower. Now, everything here seemed to be for two, hints of love scattered all around in every insignificant corner of the house. 

“Shut up,” you giggle at the name he’d designated for you a long while ago, “I should be called Lady Overlord at this point.”

There is a certain pitch he laughs at like a cute little chime and you’re lucky enough to hear it on the regular. “People think I’m talking about my CEO whenever I tell them that boss is calling. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.”

Finding moments of silence as comfortable as this is hard for someone constantly surrounded by loud friends and loud music so Hyunjin knows to cherish it until it eventually ends. For now, he succumbs to the ache in his bones and lays his head on your lap, spine finally decompressing all of the pressure it has withstood the whole award season preparation period, followed up by rigorous performances. Tingles run down until they reach his fingertips from the way you oh, so deliciously run your nails on his scalp, smoothing over his short hair, the texture so satisfying to play with that you can never seem to get enough of it.

You know the effect it has on him as he’s often fallen asleep to you playing with his hair, short and long. He still has to take off his stage makeup and shower off the sweat and debris, but you allow him this brief moment of rest. That can wait another fifteen minutes, showing some much needed love and affection cannot. You can see his lashes fluttering closed despite trying his damndest to keep them open (he needs to keep them open, damn it, you wouldn’t understand. Breathing is a sin unless it’s your scent, sight a sin unless it’s to look into your eyes. You don’t understand, his planet orbits around your sun. Without you pulling him in, he is but a rogue, lost in the dark and cold space, wandering without aim).

“Relax, I’ll wake you up soon.” You shush him, swiping your palm over his eyes like a gentle feather. Hyunjin takes your word for it, drifting into a saccharine sweet sleep, lulled to sleep by your silent hum, the dishwasher’s rumble falling even further into the distant scapes of his mind.

© KOISHUA 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Epilogue: An Elf's Devotion

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 11.2k (ye have to suffer for yer smut) ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ Smut, Oral (f!receiving), PinV, nipple play, praise kink, creampie. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Healing, acceptance, and the start of a new life.

You sat in one of the castle's many courtyards at a circular table under a stone gazebo. The day was still young and you could hear the birds chirping as they flew from tree to tree. The lanterns strung under the roof of the gazebo illuminated the space you were in. The elder trees, in their great beauty, shrouded all light. It was surprising how easily you had adjusted to the perpetual darkness. 

A near-empty teacup was balanced in your lap. Your forefinger tapped rhythmically against the rim as you stared out at the plants surrounding you. It had been odd for you to be sitting and resting. All you had done for nearly two weeks was work in your laboratory. The healers, Daeron, and you, had been working tirelessly in brewing large portions of the cure. 

While unable to participate in the blood part of the brews, you had been preparing all the ingredients and orchestrating all of the shipments that were being sent to the far reaches of the kingdom. Reports were sent back that showed that the potion was working on swaths of land, restoring what had once been dead.

It was only yesterday that the last of the sick hall patients were released. It had been emotional, seeing all the beds empty and knowing they were not dead but now free to live the rest of their lives in comfort. After that, Daeron practically pushed you out of the laboratory to take some time off. You did not like it but decided to listen to him lest you incur his brotherly wrath. 

Now, you were eating lunch with Helaena. On the table sat empty dishes, with only a few scraps of food left. The large teapot was empty and the remnants left in your cup had gone cold. On the table in front of Helaena were dragonflies in their cages. They were the ones you had gifted her when you first met. She stared intently at them, occasionally brushing the wooden cage with her finger. 

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” You spoke. Helaena raised her gaze to meet yours with furrowed brows. 

“For what?” She asked. 

Your finger continued its relentless drumming against the porcelain cup, “For coming back after we met. If it weren't for you, all of this… well, none of this would have happened.”

“Yes, the world works in mysterious ways,” She wore a small smile as if she was thinking about something nobody else knew.  

“Thank you, truly, for allowing me to be here. I would have never been able to make a cure, or have met the people I now know.” You picked up your cup and placed it on the table. A small breeze rushed through the courtyard, eliciting a small chill. The once vibrant days of summer were coming to a close and the icy hold of winter began to creep into the passing days. 

“Then I should thank you as well. How is everything with the potions?” Helaena asked. 

“It’s good,” You paused for a moment, “It has been a busy two weeks. Everything is a chaotic mess and I’m not sure how long it will be until it all calms.” 

“I can only imagine. And Aemond, how is he handling the hunt for Cole’s spies?” Helaena leaned back into her chair.

You let out an awkward cough, “I wouldn’t know… We, uh, have not had any time to speak since the uprising.” It was true. You had been so busy with creating more potions, you had even spent nights in the lab. Your guest room had been long abandoned and exchanged for a cot in the corner of the laboratory. Hours spent hunkered over the pots and ingredients, overseeing it all.

Aemond had been working non-stop in hunting down any conspirer that colluded with Cole. He had been busy in his own right, as had you, but you would be lying if you said it did not hurt. There were brief moments when you would see one another in the halls, but there was never any time to stop and talk. Nothing but longing glances thrown across corridors. 

“My brother hasn’t been a good husband?” Helaena said. You shook your head at her words and shifted in your seat. The firefly lanterns above you glinted. 

“We are married, but we are not together.” You clarified. It was simply a union to save him from the brink of death. 

“Has marriage been given a different definition since I last checked?” She asked you. You wanted to laugh, perhaps match a jest to her words, but nothing could escape your throat. Aemond and your relationship had hit some kind of barrier. You were married, souls bonded, but there was an underlying issue. Distance had been given, and you could only assume it was Aemond’s attempts at keeping you at arm's length. He does not want you to get the wrong idea – that this union means anything beyond convenience. 

The crunching of feet on the ground and clanging of armour interrupted your tea time. At the entrance of the courtyard stood two guards who had opened the latticed doors to let in their king. Aemond stood a few paces away from the gazebo. His gaze was trained directly on you, a look of compassion across his features. You remembered just what kind of day this was. 

Today was not a day you had been looking forward to. The black dress that clung to your frame felt nearly suffocating. While only black in colour, it held a mix of stitched details and threaded patterns that were heavily nature-centric. It was beautiful and if it had been another reason for wearing it, you would have loved it. Facing the truth of your father’s death had been a path largely consumed by denial. One thing that made it hurt the most was no recovery of his body, not that there would be much given the years since his murder. You just wanted something tangible to mark his passing. 

Aemond had decided to hold a small funeral service with a marked grave in the royal cemetery. His plan was entirely unprompted, as you had never even indicated your feelings. He could have understood because of the union of your souls and how your emotions were fairly intertwined. Apparently for elves, sensing their bond's emotion was as easy as breathing. Unfortunately, because of your humanness, you did not exactly feel his emotions as an elf would. It only came with great concentration, something of which you had no time for. 

Perhaps, a better explanation for why he came up with this funeral was the simple fact of shared experience. He too shared the burden, grief, and inexplicable loss of a father, thus understanding that you may need certain things provided to journey through the grieving process. 

You took in a breath and got up from your chair. The wooden poles scraped against the stone flooring. Your feet took you to the stone steps of the gazebo and you proceeded to take a step. Aemond had moved forward and held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated for a moment, but gently rested your hand on his palm. It was warm and calloused, but inexplicably comforting. A surge of energy shot through your body. The hands that had joined were the ones cut in the marriage ceremony. 

He escorted you through the courtyard and down a few flights of stairs outside of the castle. Helaena followed, soon joined by Aegon, Daeron, Amara, and Liriel. You did not want to make a spectacle of it, choosing to only have those close to you attend. 

The royal graveyard was located just beside the giant elder tree that made up the castle. Graveyards had always felt weird to you. Tombstones and monuments were permanent markers of the impermanent. They represented, in some capacity, the inability to move on; yet all must one day. It was more odd, that despite the elvish customs of being so in tune with nature, they did not allow their bodies to return to nature after death – instead enshrining their bodies in stone. 

Your group stopped, coming in front of the stone for your father. It had his name, along with the years he lived and died. The stone was granite, reflecting a speckled mess of white, black, and gray. The sight of it caused tears to brim your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Aemond’s grip on your hand squeezed a few beets in succession in a rhythm similar to the beating of a heart. He stood to your right. 

Aegon walked out from behind you and Aemond. He carried a bouquet of white roses in his hands and crouched to gently place it at the base of the stone. You remember learning white roses signify peace and hope, which caused the edges of your lips to curl up just slightly. Aegon was silent for a moment before he stood up and walked back towards you. He stopped to face you on your left side. Aegon’s arm reached out, placed itself on your shoulder, and then gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked at him and he gave you a comforting smile. You nodded, grateful for his support but unable to vocalize it. 

After he went to stand at your side, Daeron came forward and repeated the same process. He placed a bouquet of daises beside Aegons, paused for a moment of silence, moved towards you and gave your shoulder a small squeeze before joining beside his brother. Next was Helaena, who placed lavender on the tombstone. She repeated the same process as her brothers and gave you a squeeze of comfort. Amara and Liriel both had their bouquets; tulips and orchids. They gave a moment of silence and then each squeezed your shoulder and offered small smiles. 

By then, you were overwhelmed with the support. Aemond brushed his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he had gripped and brought a bouquet of elf azures from behind his back. He held them to you and you grabbed them with him. The two of you carried the flowers to be placed at the centre of the grave. You took a moment of silence and thought of the words you would want to tell him if he were here. 

You could speak to him about all the breakthroughs you had made in your research. Detail the extensive and life-changing move from the capital to a village on the outskirts. 

You would tell him of your chance meeting with Helaena and how that one choice to help someone in need radically changed your life. Meeting everyone after, Daeron, Aegon, Amara, and Liriel. You could look him in the eyes and tell him all those scary stories about Aemond were false; that he saved your life in more ways than one. Your father could know that you were safe now, cared for and happy.

Most of all, you wished you could tell him you loved him one last time. So, muttering with the quietest whisper, you spoke, “I love you, father.” 

Aemond and you stood up and moved back to stand in your previous positions. Aemond brought your hand up to place a comforting kiss on your hand. The action caused your cheeks to heat up and turn a bright shade of red. Your heart thumped faster. 

One by one, your friends each said goodbye and left you to have your moment at the grave. Aemond was the only one who stayed standing by your side as you stared at the stone. He kept his one hand locked with yours but used the other to reach up and brush some hair behind your ear. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you. 

Your gaze was locked on the stone, “I had mourned him long ago.” Aemond nodded at your words.  

“There is something else, rūklon.” He spoke. 

You angled your head to look at him and furrowed your brows. He tugged one of your hands and gently led you a short walk away from the gravestone. You walked amidst the burials of all the royal family members that came before. At the edge of the yard was a young tree, newly planted by the looks of the recently tilled earth around it. Young and just beginning to leave its years of adolescence. 

Another granite grave was placed just by the tree. It stood straight and gleaming in the light of the lit lanterns strung about. The two of you got closer and you could finally see the inscription on the stone surface. 

Aemond had given Lyra a place of rest in the royal cemetery. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. Your grip on his hand tightened as you looked between him and the gravestone. To be placed in the royal cemetery despite not being a member of the family was a great honour not afforded to most. Aemond had given it to two important people in your life. 

 “An elder tree sapling has been planted over her body. Soon, she’ll be as tall as the other elder trees with time. Big enough to join the ancestors and protect us all.” Aemond spoke softly. His words seemed to break the damn that you had built up to keep the emotions in. The water pooling in your eyes sprung forth as a sob ripped its way out your throat. Aemond moved quickly to pull you into a hug. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head and pulled your face in to rest on his chest. 

The two of you stood there while you cried in his arms. There was so much you wished you could change. You wanted to apologize to Lyra for how long it took you to find a cure. Aemond’s grip tightened as your sobs came out harder. You wanted your father, you wanted your mother. Aemond’s hand on the small part of your back moved rhythmically up and down while his fingers cradled your head and carted through your hair.

There was no way to track the time that had passed as you cried. It had finally been a moment where you could just let it all go. The build-up of days, weeks, months, and years swept over you like a storm; destroying the fortresses you had built in your mind to protect yourself. With careful grace, you pulled away. You sniffled a few times and then looked back to the grave. 

“Thank you, Aemond.” You said between tears. He shook his head and moved his hands to cup your face. There was unspeakable warmth in his touch. 

“You need not thank me, ‘tis only an honour both deserve.” His thumbs swiped at the salty trails of water on your face. Your eyes traced the stone and for a moment you thought of the image of the sweet little elf girl who always smiled in spite of the pain. The strength Lyra carried, without ever truly acknowledging it herself, inspired you. 

“Amara and Liriel should be waiting in your room soon to ready you for tonight,” Aemond spoke, “But if you truly do not wish to attend I can move it to another day.” 

It was unfortunate that the first day you had off, the day of your father's funeral, fell on the same day the weekly celebration the elves held. You had wanted to delay the funeral at first, but could not stand being stuck in limbo any longer. You needed to process and move on. There was no way you would be the cause of a delay in the elves' tradition – it had been that way for multiple millennia. You felt you had disrupted their lives enough simply by being there. Now that you were the wife to the king, it would be best to tread your case lightly. 

You did not think you could ever get over the simple fact that you were married. However, you did speak to Daeron about the contingencies of your marriage. It had been a long day of brewing and you were more delirious than conscious. He was in the laboratory with you after all the elf healers had left. You had confessed your worries about being stuck in a loveless relationship, but he had simply shook his head with a small smile on his face and told you to sleep. 

You had a strong urge then to chuck a glass pitcher at his head. 

“No, everyone deserves to celebrate this victory.” You paused a moment and then looked towards him. However, you could not meet his eye and instead looked at his forehead, “Could I be alone for a moment?” 

Aemond’s jaw tensed at your standoffish attitude but gave you a curt nod, “As you wish.” His body turned, but he halted for a moment and looked at you. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he choked it down and stalked out of the cemetery. 

When he was gone, it felt like your ability to breathe went with him. You wondered how long it would take for you to spill your guts to the king. Would this be your life from now on? Where you would be attached at the hip to the person you loved, but unable to act on your feelings because of your fear. It was nothing but the truth. 

You were terrified. 

If you chose to act on your feelings and confess to him, what if he did not feel the same? All Aemond had given you since you arrived were mixed signals. One moment he is saving your life and the next insulting you. At the time, you did not understand why he had acted that way. Now, as you came to truly see him, you understood that he was grappling with his past and trying to balance the kingdom in the midst of the spreading taint. 

In some odd way, your presence in the kingdom had reminded him of the prince that took his eye. His on-and-off attitude was nothing but his inner child and leftover naivety clawing for a moment to be seen. War-torn and violent, under it all was a child facing the death of his parents, protecting a kingdom, and dealing with a betrayal like no other. 

He wanted to be your friend. He wanted to run back to the comfort of a human like he had long ago but was left paralyzed by his past. 

Yet, his actions towards you have changed dramatically as of late. Aemond was kinder, tender even. He had shown you patience and understanding, guarding you with his life when Cole revealed his falsehood. Aemond had agreed to marry you and while it was to save his life, he could not have made that decision entirely on that. He was your friend and you could only hope it could stay that way. 

Perhaps, in time, he could look at you the way you do to him.

You fiddled with the jewelry on your wrist as you walked the halls of the castle. It had been hours since the funeral and you had spent that time in your room. You had left the graveyard shortly after Aemond and were greeted by Amara and Liriel. Despite becoming your friends, they still acted as handmaids to you. You wanted them to stop, for it felt weird to make them serve you, but they adored dressing you up so you let them. 

When you had gotten to your room, they had already laid out a multitude of dresses and jewelry. You were undressed from your black mourning dress and immediately ushered into the adjoining room to bathe in a myriad of oils. Amara insisted on some of her lilac-scented oils, but you opted for the azure scent. She left you to have some privacy and you slowly cleaned yourself. 

Over the next couple of hours, the two elves dressed you up in various dresses and colours, until finally picking one that suited you the most. Now that you were a part of the elven kingdom, you thought it only fitting if you dressed in the kingdom's colours. The dark emerald green dress you wore was light and flowy, the dyed linen freely brushing the floor. Careful and detailed embroidered patterns lined the ends of your sleeves, skirt, and around your waist. The same pattern of stitched flowery imagery outlined your neckline, which plunged in a v formation. 

Amara and Liriel had spent another large portion of time getting your hair ready and sorting through the polished jewels and metals that would adorn your wrists, fingers, and neck. You were glad they had not brought up the funeral and chose to distract you by other means. 

They left you to go to the celebration, but you stayed behind for a few moments to collect yourself. Now, you were walking through the halls of the castle towards the grand hall. As you approached the large oak doors, taller than your lofted old cottage was, two guards noticed you coming. They immediately got out of their standing positions and each grabbed a large wrought iron handle. They leaned back to pull the doors open, as the weight of the wood was heavy. 

Upon entering the grand hall, the band halted their music and the elves turned to look at you. Suddenly, you felt hot under their intense gazes. This amount of attention was uncomfortable and reminded you of your first few weeks in the kingdom; when they would look at you with curiosity. Now, the intensity of their gaze had changed to something different, better even. 

You could spot Daeron as he made his way through the crowd. When he broke from them and approached, he smiled widely at you and clapped. Like a tidal wave, all of the other elves began to clap as well. You heard a sharp whistle and spotted Aegon over by your friends sporting a wolfish grin.

“I was wondering when our star would show up.” Daeron jested as he took your arm in his to escort you to your friends. The clapping began to cease and the band went back to their jovial tunes. The tunes of their flutes, fiddles, and lutes echoed across the hall as the elves resumed dancing and mingling.

“Star?” Your voice wavered. The celebration had been held to commemorate the cure and the missed war. 

“This would not be possible without you,” Daeron spoke like his words were an obvious observation. 

“Without all of the healers,” You interjected, “Do not forget you and your workers' sacrifices.” 

Daeron nodded at your words, but kept his cheeky grin, “Of course, my queen.” The way he addressed you felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over your body. The elf healers had used such a title to address you, but you quickly put an end to it. It felt like theft to take up such a role. By now, you had neared your friend group where Aegon, Amara, and Liriel waited. Helaena was perched in the back, having made the effort to come for just a moment despite disliking such large gatherings. 

“Do not address me as such until I have spoken to Aemond. We may be married, but it is not appropriate to seize such a title.” You reprimanded. Daeron released you from his hold and held up his hands in defence, but only returned with a quiet hum. 

“There she is!” Aegon placed his chalice down at a nearby long table, covered in large amounts of food for the feast, “Might I so humbly request a dance with her grace?” Aegon bowed and held out his hand, but his actions still held this joking manner that was refreshing to see. You disliked how he used your royal rank but nodded gratefully and took his arm. You waved goodbye to your friends as he escorted you to the dance floor. 

“Lovely night. I have ordered some of the oldest wine barrels to be brought out. It is high time they were used.” Aegon spoke as he placed one hand on your waist and held your hand in the other. It was a quick waltz, with rushed movements and interspersed twirls. 

“Like you needed such an excuse to drink them,” You teased, “Though, I must thank you properly. Everything that you have done for me, agreeing to help me with my father… truly Aegon, it helped immensely.” During your noon tea time with Helaena, you finally found the opportunity to thank her. Now, you felt it was only necessary to begin thanking everyone else. Aegon looked appreciative of your thanks but was uncomfortable with the praise he was receiving having not been too used to it. 

“Truthfully I had been waiting for a moment to strike at…” Aegon paused, unwilling to speak Cole’s name, “We were close, for a time. He wasn’t always so, well,” His lips moved to a frown, unsure how to continue speaking.

Aegon shook his head and gave you a gentle smile, “I am just grateful I can go back to what matters most, drinking. Staying sober during all of this was the hardest part.” Aegon joked. You could tell, deep underneath, that he used humour to cope with his struggles. He was skilled at deflecting. It reminded you of that glimpse you saw many weeks ago. How you escorted him to his room after a night of drinking and he confessed his feelings of inadequacy compared to his siblings. You had given him advice then. Did he even remember your words? 

Just as you wanted to bring it up again, Aegon spotted something from behind you and a wicked smirk plastered itself on his face. He spun you around one last time as the song came to a close. The two of you backed away and bowed. 

“Might I cut in?” Aemond’s voice was calm and you could feel his breath brushing against your neck as he stood behind you. You turned to see him standing before you, dressed in finer clothes than he normally would wear. These ones fit the occasion of celebration but were still dark in colour. This might have been the only time you saw him without his longsword strapped to his side. There was no need for him to display such defence anymore. 

“Of course, brother.” Aegon then looked at you, gave a quick almost imperceptible wink and walked away. The band began to play a slower, more calm song. Aemond placed both of his hands along your waist, his fingers brushing your sides soothingly. You rested your hands on his chest and felt the warmth emanating from him. 

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation,” Aemond spoke as the two of you began to waltz across the floor with the other dancing elves. 

“An explanation?” You questioned. Aemond’s eye was scanning the room. You could see it in his stance, he wanted to talk about something. Deeply. However, his posture held hints of nervousness. 

“I know our union may have been done in haste, but I need you to know that,” Aemond licked his lips, took a deep breath in, and locked his eye on you, “I–” He huffed. You could feel his fingers tighten just slightly as his gaze swept to the floor. You were unsure of how to proceed. You had never seen him in this state. 

“I’m not good at speaking about all of this.” He muttered with frustration. 

“You don’t have to be.” You gave him a gentle smile, “Aemond, king or not, you don’t have to always be perfect at everything.” 

His eye trailed back to you, scanning over your face. The shine of the blue reflected the gold light of the lanterns strung from the high vaulted roof of the hall. There was something almost unreadable on his face, but a moment of clarity washed over his features. 

“You’re beautiful,” He blurted out. You sucked in a breath at his compliment. Heat flushed over your face and your hands gripped the fabric of his doublet. Your heartbeat picked up. 

Aemond pulled you closer and spun you two, “I wish I could see you, truly.” You could see his cheek with the scar twitch, causing you to be more aware of his eyepatch. In all honesty, it was not something you noticed anymore.

“You already do, Aemond, more than anyone else has.” You gave him a reassuring smile. At this point, your heart was bleeding on your sleeve. You did not care to hide your affection anymore. You did not wish to hide a part of yourself from the person your soul was intertwined with. Aemond stopped dancing and the two of you stood amongst dancing elves. The song was in full swing, the elegant tune flitting about the room. 

“Come with me,” Aemond grabbed a hold of your hand, “We need to talk.” He tugged you through the crowd, expertly weaving his way so you would not bump into anyone. He was on a mission, his shoulders squared with determination. Aemond paid no attention to the elves in the hall who sent causal glances his way, watching on as their king and queen left the hall. It was slightly disappointing to leave the party early, but you knew there would be plenty more to attend over the course of your life here. 

He guided you through the dimly lit stone halls and up a flight of stairs. It was a repetitive process. You two would move down a hallway and then walk up a bunch of stairs. It repeated multiple times and you had begun to get a little tired. You were unfamiliar with this part of the castle. Your legs ached just slightly, but Aemond continued. You could feel the elevation increase. Finally, you came across the spiralling steps of a tower and Aemond walked up. His grip on your hand tightened to guide you up the stairs and make sure you did not slip. 

You happened across double doors. Aemond pushed one open and guided you into a large room. Quickly scanning the area, you came to see that it was one of the exact rooms you saw when you were in that unconscious state; Aemond’s room. The stone walls were adorned with tapestries, making it feel warm. Countless bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with various tomes. There were multiple areas with lounge furniture. On one end of the room was a raised section that held a hearth, a four-poster canopy bed, and doors that opened to a balcony. Rich fabrics and furs covered the bed and floors, adding touches of luxury amid the fortress-like surroundings.

He guided you up the raised steps and out onto the balcony. There, you could see the dark shapes of the tops of the elder trees. Above you, as far as your eyes could see, spanned a starry night sky. The stars looked like different sizes of salt grains spilled across a dark-stained wood table. They sparkled like the jewels that adorned your neck. You were struck by the sight and slowly walked to the end of the balcony. You leaned against the stone railing and watched with revered awe. 

Aemond moved to stand beside you. Unlike other times in the past, he stood on your left, so his good eye was on your side. Your hands traced the rough grooves of the stone. You glanced towards Aemond and found him already looking at you. For a brief moment, you felt as though you were transported back to that night at Lake Rosmagne when you and Aemond were sat around the campfire. The night he had opened up to you, and you to him. 

“Our union,” You spoke, “I know it was not a choice and I am sorry for taking it from you. But since then, it feels like there is a crack in our friendship. I’m sorry if it broke your trust.” 

“Why would it have broken my trust?” Aemond turned so his hip rested against the railing and focused his form on you. 

“It is a bond forged out of desperation. You had no option other than death. It was cruel to suggest it and even crueller to make you go through with it.” You reasoned. It was all out in the open now. The thing that had been bugging you for many days now, something that had kept you up most nights. 

“Did you hold a knife against my throat? Bind my hands and tie me to a chair?” Aemond questioned. 

You shook your head, “Well no, but-”

“I could have chosen to die on that field, like a king, a warrior, but I did not.” He interrupted you. You thought about his words for a moment. It still did not entirely make sense to you. In your kingdom, anything would have been done to save a king from death. Though, because of that, the king typically never fought on the field. Yet here, it was seen as dishonourable to make your people fight without joining. His death in battle would have been seen as a tragic, but kingly end.

“I apologize if any of my actions have given you the wrong impression. This is not my area of expertise.” He reached out with his arm and grabbed your hand and his thumb swiped over your knuckles. You welcomed the warmth his touch brought. 

“Rūklon, why do you think I planned to go to war?” He questioned, his voice soft and comforting. The area between your brows wrinkled. It was such an obvious answer so why would he be asking that question?

“Because you believed my kind broke the treaty and attacked your castle. They destroyed part of the research, so you were bound by duty to retaliate.” You answered. Aemond looked at you with a small smile, his eye shining. His head tilted down due to the height difference. It was like he found amusement in your answer. 

He slowly shook his head back and forth, “No,” Aemond spoke with gentleness, “I declared war because I thought their spies killed you. I didn’t give a damn about the rest. You did not force me into this union, I welcome it gladly.” His words were like a jolt of lighting that had hit your body, electrifying your limbs and shocking your brain. 

Your fingers tightened against the stone of the railing, “But you had no other choice. What I did…” 

“There is nothing you could ever do to hurt me or make me detest you. Rūklon, you could cut out my other eye and I would still only see you. You could cut off my ears, yet only your voice would remain in my head. You could run to the far corners of the earth and my heart would still call to you, guide me to you.” Aemond used the hand that cradled yours to pull you closer to him. He brought it up and opened your closed fist to lay on his chest, right where his heart was. You could feel the gentle thrum of the beats, picking up just slightly at your proximity. 

His eye looked into yours and with an overwhelming glint of pure devotion, he whispered, “You have conquered me. Wholly and truly.” His hand cradled yours delicately and he moved closer to you, nearly chest to chest. Your breath got caught in your throat. Your hands moved to rest on his forearms and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. 

This was all you had wanted and more. You needed to mend the weird rift that had been created between you. You had thought, due to the circumstances of your union, that Aemond did not want to be that close to you. How stupid this had all been. Both of you were unsure and scared to proceed further as you both did not want to push the other. Your souls had intertwined, going so far as to share trepidation in confessing those feelings. 

You took a moment to reach up and cup his face, tracing the line of his scar. Your fingers reached his eyepatch. You halted your movement and hovered over the leather, waiting for his permission. Aemond tilted his head down in a curt nod. With his permission, you gently pulled it off and rested the leather on the stone railing. Looking back up, you saw the sapphire stone that sat in his socket. In the past, all you had seen was a storm of blue. Angry waves that crashed against the dark stone of his iris. Now, that had changed. With the sapphire, you could see the iridescent deep blue that reflected the glittering light of the stars. In it, you could see the universe. 

It was then that you understood what people meant when they said that eyes are windows to a person's soul. 

“I love you, Aemond.” You whispered delicately. Those simple words caused the elf in front of you to almost crumble. His one eye, brimming with unshed tears, closed and you watched a streak of saltwater come down his cheek and rest at his sharp jaw. His lips trembled almost imperceptibly. You wanted to cry with him, suddenly feeling all of his emotions through your bond. 

Slowly, Aemond’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers brushing the small of your back. Your hands that were tracing his cheeks dropped to his chest. He carefully moved forward and leaned in. Under your hands, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Aemond’s face got closer and you felt his breath brush your face. Both of your foreheads connected and your eyes fluttered close to savour the tender moment. 

“Avy jorrāelan,” Aemond spoke softly. You did not need to know his language to understand he had said it back to you. The delicate nature of his voice and the emotion in the words were all you needed to know. Even if the world plunged into darkness you would be able to find him anywhere. 

There, in the midst of your comfort, you felt his lips brush yours. Despite the skin being slightly chapped, it felt soft and warm. Your skin was flushed with heat and it spread throughout your body. Aemond's lips began to move with yours, slowly and gently. The action came as naturally as walking, as breathing. There was nothing else that mattered but that moment. 

His grip moved to your waist, tightening as he pulled you closer to him. The movement caused you to let out a hum and that spurred him on. His nose brushed your cheek as he turned his head to get a better angle and he became starved for you. It was like the wall that separated you two crumbled in an instant. All pieces of inhibitions were disregarded as you sunk into it, into him. A grumble made its way out of his throat and the vibrations were passed on to you.

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty. You were nervous. This was not an area you had experience in and you suddenly felt like that would be a negative for him. You did not want to disappoint Aemond. 

The two of you pulled away, only slightly. Your noses were still touching. His eye opened and you looked into it. The blue had darkened significantly and with your hands on his chest, you could feel it rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. You moved your hands and the touch made him shudder. That alone sparked an unknown heat you had never felt before that budded in your lower stomach. You needed him, carnally. 

For a moment, all you two did was look at one another, eyes tracing every inch; learning, memorizing. 

“I need you, Aemond.” You could barely recognize your voice. Your body was overcome with instinct over mind, but you did not care. There must have been something in your words because it caused his breath to hitch and hold on you tighten. 

“Do you want this?” While his words were coated in arousal, you could still sense some insecurity. He needed your permission as much as he needed reassurance. 

You nodded, “Please, Aemond, touch me.” He wasted no time in connecting your lips again. Except this time it was not soft but desperate. Every emotion you had struggled with melted away as you succumbed to his fervour. Your hands could no longer stay still and so could his. They moved up to his hair and tangled themselves in the silk strands. You had always wanted to know what his hair felt like. Aemond’s own hands ran over the outline your your form, up and down. It was like he was trying to map out your body in his head – a way to permanently memorize every inch. 

Every moment, every interaction, each sliver of attention you both gave one another in the past culminated to this. Full, complete, and unencumbered trust in the throes of pleasure.

Your back dug into the high stone railing as he pushed into you further. A small bit of frustration began to bud in you. No matter how close he was, it did not feel like enough. Your brain could not think of much else, other than the complete need for more. One of his hands trailed over your ass and stopped at the back of your thigh. His fingers dug into the plush fabric of your dress as he lifted your leg. You caught on instantly and wrapped it around his waist.

There were little moments when you two of you would pull away to breathe, but they only lasted less than a second before you reunited again – a mess of wet lips and unquenchable fire. With your leg hiked up, he was able to press his crotch against your core. It lit up something in your lower stomach. His hand that held your thigh moved to grab the hem of your dress and hiked it up further. The crisp and cool night air hit your skin and it was then that you were able to truly feel how much your body had heated up in this moment. Aemond’s hands were not the only wandering thing. His lips trailed from yours and landed repeatedly against the flush skin of your face. 

It was like Aemond was gone, replaced with a starving devout worshipper pleading for any ounce of reprieve. His opened-mouthed kisses moved further towards your neck, nipping and licking at the skin. All you could do was release short bursts of breaths, where you could see the small puffs in the cool air. The dress had a low neckline, exposing a good portion of the skin. The movement caused your breasts to heave against the fabric and Aemond wasted no time in moving his attention to your chest. 

His hand that pushed back the fabric on your leg trailed the skin and moved closer to your core. He hesitated for a moment and pulled away, finally making eye contact with you. He gave you a moment to catch your breath from the intensity, resting his forehead against yours. Aemond was asking for permission and you shook your head in agreement. 

“Words, rūklon. I need to hear it. What do you want?” His words erupted some frustration from you. 

“Gods damn it, Aemond, please I’ve already said it. Touch me, please.” Your voice was horse with desperation. All he did was let out a small chuckle and smile. 

He leaned in so his breath brushed your ear and whispered, “I know, but you’re so easy to rile up.” Aemond picked up your other leg and hoisted you up. You let out a squeal of surprise. He was an elite fighter, training for centuries, but it still shocked you just how strong he was. Your hands rested on his shoulders and he wasted no time in kissing you again. With each step he took, your core rubbed against his. You could feel the hardness of his length brush a particularly sensitive spot through the fabric and let out a moan. 

As quickly as you were carried, was as quickly as you found yourself being tossed against the plush warmth of his bed, amidst furs and quilted fabric. Your hips hung near the edge of the bed. You sat up immediately, wanting to chase after Aemond’s lips, but he kneeled in front of you. His head was tilted upwards to watch you as his hands went to unlace your turn shoes. He carefully took them off, his hands caressing your ankles, but his gaze remained on you, wanting to drink up each time you squirmed at his touch.

It was almost painful the way he took his slow time in untying the ribbons that held up your stockings and pulled the embroidered fabric down. Whenever he would expose more skin, his hands would trail over and massage it gently in worshipping movements. 

His hands hiked up, and up, and up; pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. You watched him visibly swallow as he took you in. Because you had believed you would be dancing for most of the night, you prepared for the inevitable heat you would be facing – by only wearing a light undergarment under your dress with no covering over your core. You reasoned that if you were going to be moving a lot, you would need the least amount of clothes to keep cool. 

Now, in the heat of this moment, you knew that even if you were wearing nothing, it would not keep you cool from feeling like the fire that roared in the hearth next to the bed. 

Aemond grabbed your hips to hang over the edge of the bed as he moved closer in his kneeling position. He manoeuvred your thighs to rest on both of his shoulders as he began to kiss and lick the inside of them, brushing so carefully against the soft skin. He moved up further to kiss the juncture between your leg and hip. 

He then moved his care to your lower stomach – what little of it was exposed due to the bunched-up dress. Aemond’s lips trailed the area that had lit up with heat since the moment he kissed you on the balcony. You could feel his lips form a smile as he moved further, so dangerously close to your core that had become dripping with want. 

Aemond hovered above you, looked up into your eyes, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.” Your breath caught in your throat as his hot breath brushed against your most sensitive spot. There was no time to react when you felt his tongue lick a strip along the length of your slit. The feeling, so sudden and new, had you fall to lay back with your elbows supporting your upper body. Short, quick gasps left your mouth. 

His demeanour changed completely, getting lost in his movements as he lapped at your juices. Aemond’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs. One moved up and under your dress, trailing across your heaving stomach and making a home at your breasts. The swipe of his finger against your nipple and the quickening of his tongue’s pace caused a surge of energy to shoot through your body and your arms could no longer support yourself. You fell back fully on the bed with your back arching. Your arms, which had once held strength, fell limp. 

Aemond seemed quite content to stay between your thighs. With what little control you had left, you managed to move your hands to his hair, tugging at the strands. That movement spurred Aemond further and he let out a low groan into your flesh. Still fondling your breasts, his other hand moved to your clit and began a steady circular motion. Your gasps turned to wanton moans. Thankfully, Aemond’s room was so far from the others you were glad, for surely with the balcony doors open someone would have heard. His tongue entered you, meticulously caressing your walls.

Your body began to tremble as the pressure in your lower abdomen began to intensify. Your thighs jerked to his motions, nearly grinding on his face. 

“A-” You could barely speak and huffed to get the words out, “Aemond I-” He had you on the verge of being undone and knew it. Each movement of his hands and tongue was carefully calculated as he quickly picked up on all the little motions that made you squirm. 

“So good,” Between the moments when he would take a second to breathe, he muttered against your skin, “You’re so good f’me.” 

It was inescapable now, the buildup. You were lost in the feeling of pleasure that hit you to a degree you had yet to experience. With a final gasp and loud moan, you felt the damn break. It was like falling despite being on a solid surface. Your eyes closed and your fingers tightened in Aemond’s hair as you were overcome with every sensation but somehow none at the same time. You shuddered, but he paid no mind as he continued his movements to help you ride out your high. 

Your skin felt warm and feverish. All of this was foreign to you, but you welcomed it. You understood why some people were so hooked on the feeling. If you could experience this with Aemond every day, you would stake your life on it and forgo the rest of the world. 

Aemond pulled away, though reluctantly. He grabbed your thighs that rested on his shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze before lifting them off and pushing you further onto the bed. Your knees still hung off, but it did not matter as you could barely feel your legs. He stood up and bent to hover over you, his looming presence making you ache for more. 

As if he did not just finish feverishly eating you out, he gave you a quick, chaste kiss on the lips with utmost care. While he did so, his hands went to your back and began to untie the dress. Thankfully, it was a light and easy-to-remove one. You watched the darkened expression of his heated gaze as the top layer of your dress was pulled away and exposed the thin see-through white chemise you wore underneath. 

It did not exactly leave anything to the imagination. You could hear Aemond’s breath hitch at the sight of you and when you reached up to cup his face his body shuddered as his eye closed for a moment. He grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling the pulse point thump faster at his actions.

As soon as his comforting touch met you was as quickly as it left when he pulled back. He worked quickly and diligently, unfastening his doublet and pulling it off with record speed. All you could do was watch on as he undressed himself. You were too stuck in the trance of his form. He kicked off his boots and was then left in nothing but his pants and a thin white loose shirt that tightened at his mid-forearms. You could see the small scars that littered his arms, the same pattern seen in the small area of the exposed part of his chest. 

You shuffled forward to plant your feet on the floor but still sat down on the bed. Aemond moved instantly to you, his hands hovering on the short hemline of your chemise. While maintaining eye contact, he pulled up your last layer and up over your head. He tossed it to the side, its existence quickly forgotten and not cared for. You were now completely bare in front of him and suddenly more self-conscious than ever. An uncontrollable feeling to cover yourself began to gnaw at your brain but was quickly quelled by the low groan that came from Aemond.

“So beautiful, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” He whispered as if caught in a trance. 

He moved to shed his layers as well, but you quickly covered his hands with your own. You wanted to help him as he did for you. It was a moment indescribable between you two. It was tender and calm but underlined with an intense feeling of desire that only grew with each passing second. You took his shirt off and observed the sight of his lean muscles. His arms, which you had quickly grown to love when they were wrapped around you, were composed of lithe muscle built over centuries of training that matched the composition of his torso. 

Since that first day in the throne room when you saw him perched upon his throne of tree roots and swords, you had seen him as nothing short of an ethereal vision. A haunting, striking beauty. Before you now, was the same person, but now softer and comforting. 

You could not help but get antsy and reached out to pull him to your level. Your arms wrapped around his neck, being engulfed by his free-flowing silk hair. Aemond seemed caught off guard by your sudden dominant movements but melted into your embrace. You met his lips in another hot, searing kiss that reignited the tense fire within your stomach.

As soon as he latched onto you, your hands trailed down the front of his chest. Your fingers felt the rise and fall of his breathing and traced the taught muscled skin further down. When you brushed his stomach, you felt him shudder. He started to plant open-mouthed kisses on your cheek and moved to your neck as your hands quickly moved to make work of the tie for his pants. Everything you did was heated and desperate but met with the same fervour as Aemond.

Once you untied the pants, Aemond quickly shrugged them off. It looked like it pained him to separate from you for only a few seconds. You did not have time to look, for Aemond picked you up from the edge of your bed and tossed you back. Your body fell against the lush bed coverings and your head hit the soft, plush pillows. Now further away, you could take in the full sight of Aemond.

The image of him there, unclothed and waiting for you, was enough to make you feel as though you had died. 

He got onto the bed, crawling until he was over you. Being caged in his arms was the safest you had ever felt. Just him and you in the warmth of his chambers high in the sky with nothing but the stars outside. 

One of Aemond’s hands trailed to your core, rubbing circular motions over your bud. You bit your lip to hold back the moans, but he instantly stopped after your reaction. His hand hovered over the area, so close you could almost feel it brushing you. Your hips moved up to chase that feeling, but he only pushed you back.

“Don’t bite your lip. Let me hear you, my love.” Aemond’s husky breath was enough to make you melt. You nodded obediently and he resumed his movements. You hummed with content, but was quickly ended when he stopped. 

You watched as his hand then drifted to his cock, gripping the base. It was already fully erect and you struggled to comprehend how it would fit. Surely, he did not plan on it all fitting, did he? 

Aemond guided his cock down to drag the head between your folds to gather the slick there before settling just outside your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the feeling, desperately waiting for him to move. One of his hands was still gripping your hip while his other forearm rested by your head. 

He slowly slid into you, gradually pushing forward. You let out a shuddered gasp and your fingers gripped the sheets below you. He did not rush, nor move with the frantic nature he had previously. Aemond was content where he was, enjoying that his slow pace made you come undone and desperate for more. He let out a low groan as he bottomed out. The intensity of the feeling, of being so full, had you squirming for more movement. You craved friction, really anything, that would send you into another spiralling frenzy.

Aemond kissed your chest softly a few times, “So fucking beautiful.” His silver hair fell like a curtain around you as he lifted his head to kiss you. It was a possessive, protective kiss. You ached for more, but he remained still in you, letting you adjust to his size. 

In an act of defiance against him, you move your hips up, chasing some sense of friction. Aemond hissed at that, his grip on your waist tightening. 

“Words, baby, tell me what you want.” His kisses that he left on your chest morphed into hot ones as he paid particular attention to one of your nipples. The new sensation had you gasp in surprise. 

“Aemond…” You huffed, “Please move.” 

He let out a short laugh at your pleading, “As you wish.” Aemond took his time in pulling out, dragging to the very last moment. He then pushed back in and set a steady pace of thrusts. You quickly became a mess of moans at the feeling of being so full of him. His kisses burned into your skin. Your arms wrapped around his lithe figure, trailing nails down his back. The scratching elicited a low groan from the back of his throat and his hips snapped faster. 

While his pace had increased, it still did not feel enough. You were not sure you could ever have enough of him. The stretch that his cock gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core. You could hear the low sounds that emanated from Aemond as he too chased the high he was feeling. You began to match his pace, moving your hips in rhythm with his. 

It was not intended, but you could not resist reaching out to cup his face and moan out, “So beautiful.” 

Aemond faltered at our words, his hips going still as he arched his head up from kissing your neck to look into your eyes. It was like he was searching for the truth, that you really meant the words you said.

“Say that again, rūklon, and I won’t be able to hold back.” He rasped. You wanted to meet his challenge. You had a habit of not obeying his authority, ever since your first days here. 

One of your hands moved up to tug at the base of his hair. The action caused something in Aemond’s eye to flicker with a mix of emotions – mischief, lust, and unadulterated love. 

“Then don’t.” Something in Aemond snapped. He dropped his hand that was holding your waist and moved the forearms to rest beside your head. He now fully caged you beneath him and something about that dominating move blew more life into the fire within you.

He gave you no warning when he lost it, thrusting into you with relentless speed. Your back arched at the change of pace. Air caught in your lungs and you could barely make any noise. Aemond was the opposite. He buried his head in your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin as he started to babble incoherent words in his language. 

The once stable movement he held began to unwind as he moved with reckless abandon. No longer did Aemond care for the perfect posture, but his brain chased any and every ounce of pleasure he could find. You could feel his emotions and it was all overwhelming. You could feel the care, the love, and the hunger he had for you. You were glad to know he could feel the same from you. Your cunt squeezed around him as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

Aemond could sense it and he moved a hand carefully down your stomach and towards your bud, moving his fingers with the pace he was going. His calloused fingers added another texture and sensation that had you moaning with every inhale and exhale. You were careening over the edge of bliss.

“You feel so fucking good. Gods-” Aemond moaned. His other hand connected with yours. They were both the cut hands from your ceremony. Something about the physical remains of your joined souls stimulated a sensation that overcame you both. You recklessly moved your hips up to chase more of it. 

“Aemond I-” You bit down hard on your lip, but that did nothing to conceal the sweet noises that left them. Tears pooled in your eyes from the pleasure. Aemond moved his head up to kiss you on the lips, both becoming swollen from the day's events. His thrusts felt better than anything and you wished to indulge in this for eternity. 

“Don’t fight it, my love, let go,” Aemond murmured between kissing you. You bit his bottom lip and it made him growl. Somehow, in a way that struck you as impossible, Aemond thrust faster. It was enough to send you toppling over the precipice. Your mouth opened wide as your head pushed back into the plush pillows. Aemond continued his pace, but it soon became a mix of fast and slow movement as he came. 

The two of you were lost in it all, each accepting the shattering moment. You both rode out your highs, moaning a mix of curses and each other's names. Everything mixed into a muted mess of sensations and sounds. You felt his body drop onto yours, sweaty and hot just like you. You clung to him, wishing to continue to feel that sense of closeness. 

Minutes of silence passed. Aemond breathed deeply to catch himself and you rubbed up and down his back gently, your fingers trailing over the battle scars and marks your very nails just made. It was almost beautiful to feel marks made out of love cover the ones from hate and aggression. If you had voiced that, Aemond would have likely said you applied that sentiment to all aspects of his life. 

He pulled off of you and moved to your side. You laid on your back, slightly angled to look at him as he propped himself on his side. You felt his arm wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. The skin-on-skin contact was something you wished to never end. There, with the sounds of the crackling fire and the gentle breeze from the open balcony doors cooling your skin off, you felt like you were home.

You surveyed his form next to you. The muscular stature had some patches of scars from various training blunders and moments of futility on the battlefield. There, next to the abs on his stomach, was the scar that he had received from Cole. Your hand moved to trace it, suddenly caught in the memories of how close he was to death. 

“It does not hurt anymore. Just another mark from my life.” Aemond dismissed your worry and wished to provide comfort. He kissed your temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. He too moved his hand to your side, where the scar you had received from Cole was. For you, this was the first one you got. 

It was at that moment that something odd struck you, causing you to laugh gently. Aemond’s face scrunched up at your sudden outburst.

“We have two sets of matching scars.” It was both funny but also upsetting. Only one of those sets, the marriage cuts, were welcomed. The other, you could do without. But, without such hurt, you were not sure you and Aemond would be where you were in your relationship then. 

“That we do,” Aemond responded. His eye was trained on your face, unwilling to look away. You shivered, either from his touch or the cool breeze coming in from the outside. Aemond then grabbed the sheets from around you, pulling on the thin silk sheet and adding some plush furs on top. You hardly felt the need for them when his warm body next to yours was enough. 

Aemond shifted onto his back and let you rest your head on his chest. You used your fingers to trace patterns on his skin, relishing in the closeness of the moment. He stroked your hair, placing a kiss on the side of your head every few minutes. The two of you basked in the comfort of silence. 

For so long each of your lives had been nothing but chaos. Barrier after barrier flung in your way. It was good and rewarding to know there was nothing imminent. No need to rush and get something done, or sleep whenever you can for just a little moment of rest. 

Nothing existed outside the door of this chamber. No one but you two. 

Aemond interrupted the silence, “I’m afraid I will have to spend the rest of eternity between your thighs.” Despite the recent indulgence of your growing desire, his comment caused your cheeks to heat up. You were so flustered by his words as if he had not just made you see stars a few minutes prior. 

“And neglect your kingdom? Surely at some point, your guards would pull you away so you could serve.” You angled your head to look at him, poking fun at his words. Aemond rubbed your side, his hand trailing to the back of your thigh and dragging your leg to rest across his waist. He could not get enough of feeling you close to him. 

“I serve my wife before all.” Aemond spoke, “Every guard in this damn castle could try and pull me away.” You could hear the joking lilt in his voice and it was comforting to know how far you had come with him. Never in any possible time would you have guessed you would be close enough with him to jest.

“You think you’re a jester, my king?” You challenged. Aemoned licked his lips and you could see his eye darken with a familiar feeling of lust.

“Only for you, my queen.” He muttered before lifting his head to kiss you. It was slow and patient, indulging in every emotion you felt for one another. You let out a low, pleased moan. Taking advantage of your position, you moved your legs to rest on either side of his hips and sat on top of him. You could feel him smile into the kiss at your eagerness to be with him again. Your hands pinned his above his head and you deepened the kiss, urging for more.

Aemond was your everything. Your king, your friend, your lover, your husband.

Perhaps, now, you did not mind the title of queen, because it meant that you were his and he was yours. 

And that's a wrap on book one!

Since the early phases of planning, I have always intended to write two books. Now, this was written in a way that you could stop at the first one if you wished, but there are still some unanswered questions that will be addressed in the next book. (Such as Cole’s mysterious last words…)

The next one is an Aegon and OC centred book that I am super excited about! There will be moments with Aemond and the new Queen, but ultimately it will revolve around Aegon. It has been extremely hard to resist from immediately releasing it. 

As always, thank you all so much for the support. I did not expect to see so many people supporting it and for that, I am eternally grateful. If you choose to stick around, I’ll see you in the next book! <3 

BOOK TWO MASTERLIST HERE.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Can I get some slightly spicy Mountain/Rain? 🙏🏻

I don't write a lot of spicy stuff so I hope this is okay. It was going to be a few hundred word drabble, but in true Ash fashion, I yapped.

"Good" - A Mountain/Rain One Shot

“Your little innocence act doesn’t work on me, Rain.” Mountain said, his voice finding residence low his throat.     “S- sorry, sir, I didn’t-“     “Didn’t what? Didn’t meant to drag yourself to my kit and start playing? I thought you were going to be good for me?” Mountain taunted, standing behind Rain and encasing him in his shadow.     “No! I am! I am good! Please, I’ll show you-“ Rain went to spin around, but Mountain’s hand locked firmly around his throat and stopped him from moving.

Words: 1452

Tags: Praise k!nk, like a smidge of choking, dom!Mountain, sub!Rain, instrument practice with a happy ending, spoiler it's fade to black bc I'm not up for writing full blown scenes yet but there is plenty of spice to make up for that (I hope), ends on a really corny joke so I'm just going to apologise for that now💀

For the love of Satan, MDNI

~~~

    Water and Earth got along like a house on fire. Water nourished the plants and the Earth carved out spaces for rivers and lakes and ponds. It was a glorious relationship in which they helped each other out.

    The same can be said Mountain and Rain.

    Not only did their Elements call to each other, but Mountain was the one who nutured for Rain after his summoning. Not only was if from necessity, but because Mountain’s stomach dropped at the skinny Water Ghoul shivering in the summoning circle. It ending up a happy coincidence that the two both were in the rhythm section of the Ghost project, and Rain’s spot on stage being one right next to Mountain. They were each other’s everything and often made their appreciation known to each other.

    But right now? Rain was bored.

    In fact, he was starfished out on the music room floor, his bass laying somewhere near to him. He’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours as the little squeaks of Mountain’s tuning keys filled the room, where music once had.

    They often had little practice sessions with just the two of them. It was important that drum and bass locked in with each other so their music sounded the best it could. And they were never going to say ‘no’ to a bit of alone time.

    They were just going through the songs from Impera but they weren’t even halfway through Spillways before Mountain stopped, saying something was wrong with his kit. And so Rain sat down to wait. Then he slumped. Then he started lying down.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    After Satan-fuck knows how long, the Earth Ghoul put his hardware down and sighed.

    “Done?” Rain asked, lifting his head and, yes, maybe he had his fingers crossed.

    “Yeah, I gotta go to the bathroom though.” Mountain replied as he stood.

    Rain groaned and flopped around so he was face-first into the ground.

    “So dramatic.” Mountain muttered, his eye-roll practically audible.

    “Fuck you.” Rain said, albeit muffled by the carpet.

    “Maybe later.” Mountain said.

    Rain was about to say something else but his voice was cut off into a groan as Mountain threaded his fingers into Rain’s waves and pulled his head up by his hair.

     “Is this the game we’re playing?” He whispered, low and almost threatening into Rain’s ear, “Because I can take as long as I want in the bathroom. Hell, I could go to the Clergy ones on the other side of the building. After that, maybe I want to try a new layout with my kit. Maybe my drums will fall out of their tuning again as I move them around and I’ll have to fuss with them all over again. So, I’ll ask you again, are we playing this game, Lilypad?”

    Rain’s brain was short-circuiting, and he mentally cursed himself for falling this easily. The two usually loved to fight over who (quite literally) came out on top and earn the submission of the other. But all Rain’s brain could think of right now was wanting to be Mount’s good boy.

    Rain shook his head as much as the strain on his neck would allow, biting back whimpers at the hold Mountain had on his scalp.

    “That won’t do, baby. Words. Let me hear my Syren’s gorgeous voice.” Mountain said in that same husky whisper.

    “No, sir.” Rain replied shakily.

    “Good.” Mountain said, purposefully avoiding the full phrase and gently lowering Rain’s head back down, “Wait in this room until I get back.”

    Rain had no chance to respond before Mountain was out the room. He groaned again as he curled in on himself, internally cursing how responsive his body was to Mount’s brief action. He also cursed himself for wearing the tightest pair of jeans he owned because now they were even tighter.

    He did his best not to palm his bulge, Mountain may not have said it but he knew there was the extra demand of “No touching”. It was always there and Rain didn’t even want to try so much as ghosting his pinky over his zipper. Somehow, Mountain always knew.

    What he didn’t say, however, was that Rain couldn’t move. So, he sat up and groaned as his back ached. There may be a carpet, but it was thinner than Rain’s patience and rough stone floors laid beneath it. As Rain stood, he caught sight of Mountain’s drum stool. He sat down on it and gave a few obligatory spins before facing the kit properly.

Well, Rain was still bored and now he was frustrated too. Mountain had taught Rain some drums over the years and so the Water Ghoul’s deft fingers reached out for the two sticks and started playing the simple grooves, fills and the like that he knew. He lost his shirt at one point and didn’t notice Mountain watching in the doorway.

    “Having fun?” The Earth Ghoul shouted over the noise.

    Rain froze like a deer in headlights and he scurried to put the sticks down where Mountain had left them. The Earth Ghoul chuckled and his unreadable expression made Rain shiver. Rain put his hands in his lap, carefully avoiding where he was still painfully hard, somehow even harder than he was before, and fixed his eyes firmly to the ground.

    “Your little innocence act doesn’t work on me, Rain.” Mountain said, his voice finding residence low his throat.

    “S- sorry, sir, I didn’t-“

    “Didn’t what? Didn’t meant to drag yourself to my kit and start playing? I thought you were going to be good for me?” Mountain taunted, standing behind Rain and encasing him in his shadow.

    “No! I am! I am good! Please, I’ll show you-“ Rain went to spin around, but Mountain’s hand locked firmly around his throat and stopped him from moving.

    Mountain’s fingers wriggled and adjusted slightly to make sure he had a safe hold on Rain’s gorgeous neck. Ghouls may be a lot stronger than humans, but there was still a right and wrong way to do this. And when Rain gave his signal of two taps of his tail against the ground, telling Mountain he was green, the Earth Ghoul got right back into it.

    Not loosening the hold Mountain had on Rain’s throat, he sank to his knees behind Rain and put his mouth right by the shell of the Water Ghoul’s ear, “You think you’re so good? I’ll need you to prove it.”

    “Please.” Rain got out, quite literally choked off, “Wanna be so good. Your good boy.”

    “One good thing, I suppose, is you’re already prepared for me.” Mountain said, running a hand along Rain’s dick print. Rain could feel his smirk as the Earth Ghoul squeezed Rain’s neck and cock at the same time.

    He wanted to moan or say something, but the hand on his throat simply forbade it. Rain was starting to see sparkles and gave one harsh tap with his tail to tell Mountain he needed to let go, and the Earth Ghoul did so immediately.

    “Fuck.” Rain gasped as he took lung-fulls of air. His jeans somehow grew even tighter and he was sure that the button was about to pop off them.

    “Stand up.” Mountain commanded as he did the same, again enveloping Rain in his shadow.

    Rain did so, wobbly slightly as he got his breath back. He tried to turn and face Mountain but a rough hand shoved his shoulder.

    “I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?” Mountain nearly snarled, “I thought you wanted to be good?”

    The push from Mountain made Rain nearly fall straight into the drum kit. But he managed to catch himself, hands braced on the high tom. He shuddered and knew he’d played right into Mountain’s hand when the Earth Ghoul let out a chuckle at the stance Rain had landed in.

    “Maybe you are good.” Mountain said contemplatively, kicking his stool out the way and pressing his own clothed bulge against Rain’s clothed ass, “You look so eager like this. Practically begging for it.”

    Rain was close to fully begging. But thankfully he didn’t have to as saw Mountain’s t-shirt land in a heap over one of the cymbals. Mountain used a hand on each of them to get both of their flies open and pushed Rain’s jeans down with his underwear before his own. Rain groaned in anticipation when that heavy appendage landed with a slap on his lower back.

    It was definitely going to take them a while to get back to their practice session. But of course, it’s important for drum and bass to properly lock in with each other so their music sounded the best it could.

A/n: Syren herself has picked up and wrote a chapter 2 where we do indeed see Mountain wrecking Rain over the drum kit…

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

Miller Bros Contracting & Car Wash

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. there's a car wash near my house called Tommy's Express and it got me thinking about our Miller brothers running one before their contracting business really caught on. any historical inaccuracies are because i did not exist in the 1900s in any capacity. i also didn't have the brainpower to write this into a full-fledged fic. bon appetit.

so it’s around the mid-90s

when Joel and Tommy first started their contracting business, it was really slow drumming up enough work to pay the bills and they needed side work to bring in more income

baby Sarah suggested a car wash after “helping” Uncle Tommy wash the truck in the driveway

said car wash was no more than a little wooden stand at the end of the office’s parking lot with a hose, buckets, and rags and sponges

Tommy primarily did all the washing while Joel was in the office keeping an eye on the phone but he’d come out and pitch in on particularly quiet days (and when Sarah needed to burn off some energy)

Tommy is only ever clad in jean booty shorts and flip flops (no shirt because he’s a slut) and purposefully gets himself soaking wet and sudsy anytime a cute girl drives into the lot

(he has a special mixtape that he plays on such occasions and puts on a little extra show while washing, just squatting and flexing left and right. eventually Sarah learns all the words to both "Baby Got Back" and "Tootsee Roll" and Joel is pissed.)

(Tommy once caught Joel humming in the kitchen and never lets him forget it. “hey Joel, it’s your favorite song”)

anyway

you’re new to Austin

you and your old-ass 1982 Chrysler LeBaron convertible (to quote @maggiemayhemnj) that you got as a teen after earning your driver’s license – you got to pick the car, the only condition was that it had to be used

you roll in one day, long overdue for a wash

Tommy gets himself ready then does a double take after you park and he sees the car

he starts just circling it and inspecting practically every inch – “goddamn, how is this thing still runnin’?”

Joel watches Tommy fanboy over the car a bit from inside the office before poking his head out the door and calling to him to get to work

you play along with Tommy and his flirting – you can’t deny that he’s sexy – but you just can’t stop stealing glances at his older brother through the front window

and after you go inside to pay and Joel tells you to drive safe? you’re a goner

you become their first regular – because Tommy is just so thorough and even put air in your tires one time when they were low, no extra charge – definitely not because of his big brother pretending not to watch the two of you

“there’s my favorite hunk o’ junk!” – Tommy’s go-to greeting

one day you come by and it’s rattling like crazy

you go inside to pay afterwards, as usual, and Joel finally says more than just the polite sendoff – “uh, s’probably not my place to say but you should really get that noise checked out. sounds like it could give out at any second.”

“oh, you could hear that, huh?” “darlin’, you’d have to be deaf not to hear it. jus’ want you to be safe.”

as luck would have it, it craps out just a few days later

you dig out the Miller Bros Contracting & Car Wash business card – the only one you’ve ever kept because it has Joel’s number on it – and walk a couple blocks to the nearest payphone

Joel answers and you’re all anxious and apologetic that you didn’t know who else to call

he just says “i’m on m’way”

you have to resist the urge to curl up and hide when Joel parks his truck in the space next to you and grabs a toolbox out of the bed

you stand off to the side, watching respectfully as he fiddles around under the hood before determining it’s a battery issue

“thought i told you to get it looked at”

“i did but the guy said i need a whole new battery and i just don’t have that kind of money lying around right now”

“how much did he quote you on it?”

however much it was, it’s way too high and Joel knows it – greedy bastards taking advantage of single women who don’t know any better

“tell you what, lemme give you a jump jus’ to get ‘er going and i’ll fix it up for ya”

and he does not take no for an answer - "i ain't leavin' you to deal with any more sleazy mechanics"

you follow him back to his house where he tells you to go ahead and park in the driveway

he opens up the garage and starts grabbing tools when he stops and curses himself, turning to you and rubbing the back of his neck

“i, uh. i'm missing a pretty important part. you're more than welcome to wait here while i go run and get it, i won’t be long.”

you start to protest, he’s done so much for you already, you’re fine with just borrowing their phone book and calling a tow, but Joel is not having it

next thing you know, you’re sat on the living room floor with baby Sarah munching on a bowl of cereal and watching Wakko Warner sing about all 50 united states and their capitals

Tommy finally comes downstairs and sees the two of you hanging out and almost has a heart attack before turning on his Charm

you flirt with each other for a few minutes before he joins his older brother outside

“what’d’ya do to my favorite hunk o’ junk?”

“don’t even think about it”

“what? i didn’t say anything.”

“you were ‘bout to”

“well-”

“if you’re gonna stand there and bother me, at least make yourself useful and hand me that thing”

eventually Joel finishes up and heads inside to see Sarah sprawled halfway across your lap on the floor

“uh…your, uh, you’re good to go. lemme just, uh, take her and i'll see you out.”

the sight of Joel carrying his baby girl up the stairs to her bed is enough spank bank material to last you for weeks

he comes back down and leads you back out to your car, passing Tommy on his way in and he gives you a cheeky wink

your driver’s door is already open with the keys in the ignition so all you have to do is get in and drive away

instead, you stall by trying to offer some money to cover the cost of the parts and Joel shuts you down immediately

“you’ve already given us enough of your money, s’the least i can do”

“well, sure, but i was paying for a service. that's not the same thing.”

“you know what, you actually did me a huge favor by keeping an eye on Sarah for me. so how ‘bout we call it even?”

“okay”

and before you can even think, you step forward and kiss him

and Joel kisses back

you barely pull away and Joel grips your wrist

“what was that for?”

“…your tip?”

he just laughs and leans in, lips not quite touching again

“drive safe, darlin’”

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Part Three

Part One | Part Two

I hope y'all are ready for some backstory in this bitch hfdjsk

Anyway, we learn some more godly parents, but one remains a mystery for now.

Also, if you like my writing, maybe consider commissioning me! I have, like, student loans hitting harder than I'd like, so I've opened commissions on ko-fi. You can read more about prices and such in this post.

Anyway, hope you have fun reading! And, as always, if you see any typos no you didn't ;)

---

Getting to Athens, Tennessee, had required a mix of bus rides, a single divine taxi ride, and a pair of knock-off winged shoes that Eddie should probably put out of their misery before they get him killed. Getting back to camp, thankfully, only requires the van Steve and the kids use to get around.

Said van, at first glance, looks like a hunk of junk. It seems to have stepped right out of the 80s, its paint is faded and scratched with dents in more than a few spots, and the wheels look about two tiny potholes from popping. As they get closer, Steve pulls a key ring from his pocket, and Eddie notices that it's a physical key and not one of the wireless fobs.

When they get inside, though, the whole van is transformed. The seats are made of the softest leather Eddie has ever felt, there are seven in the back for all the kids to be comfortable without arguing about space, and the sheer number of cup holders is enough to bring Eddie near tears. "This is fucking metal," Eddie says, practically melting into the passenger seat as the kids buckle up in the back and Steve starts the van.

"I got it after we outgrew my BMW," Steve says, shrugging as he checks on the kids and Eddie before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Steve says it's a surprise gift from our father," El pipes up from the back.

"Yeah," Dustin says, his voice excited as he leans forward and pokes his head between Steve and Eddie, "Cuz he doesn't know he bought it!"

Steve snorts and pushes down the bill of Dustin's cap as he heads towards the highway.

"So, is Zeus your dad, too?" Eddie asks, twisting around to look at El.

"No. Steve and I share a human father," El explains.

Even without looking, Steve can feel Eddie's confusion. "I try not to think about how I came into being," he says. "Just know our father seems to be a bit of a slut for Greek mythological figures."

"Wait," Eddie says, waving his hand, "does that mean Zeus was, like, a woman? Is Zeus your mother?"

"No clue. Like I said, I prefer not to think about it," Steve says again, shooting Eddie a look.

And Eddie drops it despite his growing questions. When a gorgeous boy tells you to stop asking about the impossibility of his birth, you shut up and listen.

A while later, as Steve is about to drive over the Tennessee state line and the kids doze off in the back, Eddie glances at Steve and shifts in his seat. His leg starts to bounce, his fingers drumming against his knee, as he tries to figure out which question to ask first. Eventually, he ends up blurting out, "So how did you manage to not die?"

Steve blinks and snorts, stifling the rest of his laughter so he doesn't wake the kids. He glances at Eddie, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Well, how much of the story do you want to hear?" he asks.

"All of it." Eddie wants to know everything about Steve. How has he kept all these kids alive and for how long? When did they start traveling the country like this? When did he learn about his heritage? What does he like? What does he hate? Does he believe in fated love and love at first sight?

Okay, that last one can probably wait a little longer. Like, two more days, at least.

Steve hums softly, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as though he's trying to decide where to start. "I didn't know about Zeus until I was eleven," he finally says. "I only learned then because my dad couldn't figure out any other explanation for how lightning struck on clear days whenever I was angry at other kids."

"Didn't you have to deal with monsters?" Eddie asks.

"Yes. And no." Steve frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know how in all those stories Zeus will change his form to get with all those women? Like, he'll become whatever he needs to get what he wants."

"I'm familiar, yeah."

"It's a little like that, but I don't change my form. I guess I change my vibe? I can make monsters think I'm the son of a lesser deity. It got even easier when El came along because monsters don't target her."

"Why not?" Eddie asks, perking up some. If El has somehow figured out how to make herself invisible to monsters, maybe other campers can learn, too.

Steve grimaces, and Eddie immediately pushes back the urge to push for more information when he says, "It's...complicated. Let's not get into it right now."

"Okay," Eddie says, flashing Steve what he hopes is a reassuring smile when Steve glances at him. "When did you meet El, then?"

"Five years ago now, when I was fifteen. El's mother showed up, dropped her off with me, threatened me with death if she ever got hurt, and then left. El was, like, just eleven at the time, and our dad was no help. He just shrugged it off and gave me a bigger allowance to care for her."

"Was he not around?"

"No. He...travels. We haven't spoken to him in four years. He hasn't tried speaking to us, either. Despite me literally being Zeus's kid, he can't exactly show me off or anything. And El...well, he can't take her to any functions, either."

Eddie nods, pushing down the urge to ask why. But Steve said he doesn't want to talk about it, so Eddie instead asks, "And what about the rest?"

Steve hums, merging into another lane. "Well, El and I stayed in place for about a year. Then we saw some weird snake monster dragging Will around like a road snack. We saved him, but I almost died. It was my first fight, you know? But I lived, obviously, and El and I agreed to take Will back to his hometown. School was one break anyway, so we just did a road trip in my BMW. We ran into Dustin and Mike along the way. Dustin had made these, like, mechanical wings, and Mike was goading him on to give them a try. We got to the cliff right as Dustin jumped off."

"Wait," Eddie says, holding his hand up to pause Steve's story. "Are you telling me the kid just...decided to recreate Icarus?" he asks.

"Yeah, pretty much. He thought he could actually succeed since he's so much smarter," Steve explains, getting an amused grin as he thinks of it. "Anyway, didn't work, obviously. Dustin fell but managed to catch himself on the cliffside, Mike was yelling his head off but not actually doing anything, and El just took off running toward them. Which meant I had to run toward them, too. So, Will is trying to calm Mike down, El is practically dangling herself over the cliff, and Dustin is lamenting the loss of his wings."

"How'd you rescue him?"

"I just climbed down myself," Steve says, shrugging like it's no big deal. "I had him get on my back and climbed up, chewed both kids out for doing something so dangerous, and then asked if they needed a ride home, which is how I found out they'd run away and were just wandering."

"Half-bloods running away is pretty common," Eddie says, sinking down in his seat as he watches the trees rush by in the darkness. "A lot of us don't feel understood by our human families, or we don't want to endanger them when monsters track us down."

Steve nods, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. "Yeah, that's what Dustin and Mike said, too. I couldn't just leave them alone, so I invited them to come with us. Mike and Will get along really well, and Dustin is a little shit, and it's good for El to have friends her own age, so it all worked out."

"That still leaves out three whole kiddos," Eddie says.

"Well, Lucas and Erica we met in Will's hometown. Their dad and Will's mom had found each other and, like, bonded over having demigod kids. When we brought Will back, we met Lucas and Erica at this, like, barbeque thing to celebrate him being safe. And their parents ended up suggesting that we continue the road trip so the kids could be around others like them before school started again."

"Usually," Eddie says, fiddling with one of his rings, "parents go two ways. They either get really obsessed with keeping their kids safe to the point they're never let out of the house, or they completely ignore and reject the godly influence. But it sounds like their parents weren't doing either of those."

"Having each other helped. There was someone they could turn to when they felt doubt or just wanted to complain. When you're isolated, though, you just do whatever you think will keep you going, even if it might hurt the people you care about."

"You put that...really well."

"I've had a lotta time to think about it," Steve admits, frowning slightly before sighing and continuing with the story. "Anyway, we met Max and her brother a few towns over. It's...not a great story, actually. Her brother was a dick, like, massively horrible. He had a lot of problems and took way too much after his godly father in terms of anger. We ended up fighting because of how he treated Max and it didn't end great, but Max joined us and that's when I realized we needed a new car because the kids were piled on top of each other in the back. We got this conversion van in the next town with my dad's credit card, and we've been traveling ever since."

It's a lot to take in, and Eddie can tell there's a lot that Steve is leaving unsaid, but he doesn't call him out for it. "Okay, so, the whole not dying thing?" he asks.

Steve snorts. "Well, when you're chaperoning a gaggle of demigods, you get good at fighting off monsters. We've also had some...help along the way from a few goddesses, though."

Eddie perks up, looking at Steve like he's an alien. "You got help from goddesses? Which ones?"

"Sometimes, I'll pray to Hestia and she'll direct us to a motel with vacancies that'll be safe for the night. Or, uh, Demeter. I'll pray to her and fruit will grow on some trees or something. Hecate treated us to lunch once, said she found us amusing, and thanked me for the entertainment. Nike, Lucas, Max, and I have all played basketball together. I mean, she smoked us, no question, but she's part of the reason this van can run a few more miles without any gas. Hera helped once, sorta."

"Hera helped you? Hera? The goddess notoriously known for hating children of Zeus? That Hera?"

"Yeah, kinda surprised me, too. But, I mean, she's also the goddess of motherhood or something, right? And all she really ever wants is Zeus to be faithful. I don't think it's too much to ask, and I can't imagine the bullshit she goes through because of him. Anyway, we were getting attacked by this hydra, and I was really struggling to protect the kids. I mean, those heads were practically tearing me apart. And then she just, like, walks up and flicks her hand and the thing is gone. She told me to do better and then, like, disappeared. Not the weirdest thing that's happened, but it's up there."

And Eddie is starting to understand how they're not dead. It's just Steve. Like the prophecy was just Steve. Somehow, he's managed to get himself into the good graces of several goddesses and get their help. It's not entirely unheard of to get a god's favor, but having so many just be genuinely interested in you is unthinkable.

Eddie gets it, though. Steve fascinates him. He's like a magnet that Eddie doesn't want to fight. "So, uh, the kids," Eddie says, trying to keep his mind from lingering on Steve and just how incredible he is, "Who are their parents?"

"Lucas and Erica are kids of Aphrodite."

"Oh, does she like you, too?" Eddie asks.

Steve frowns, looking like he's just been reminded of something sour and gross. "No, we're not on good terms," he says, his voice a little frosty, and Eddie's mouth is suddenly dry.

"Good to know," he manages, his voice a little strained.

"Anyway, Dustin is a child of Athena. Max's mom is Nemesis. Will's dad is Morpheus, and Mike's dad is Plutus. Which has worked out well for us, actually. He keeps finding money on the street whenever we really need it."

"What about El?"

"El's mother...is complicated. We don't really talk about her," Steve says, his words soft and pleading, and Eddie immediately zips his mouth shut, winking conspiratorially at Steve when he glances over.

Then he unzips his mouth and says, "You know, you're pretty metal, Stevie."

Steve laughs, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth and glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure the kids are still sleeping. When he sees that they are, he relaxes a little. "I've never been called metal before," he says, glancing at Eddie.

"Well, that's a shame. I'll be sure to tell you whenever you're being particularly metal, big boy."

"Big boy?" Steve asks, amusement clear in his voice, and Eddie suddenly worries that Steve doesn't actually like the nickname but it trying to play it off.

Unfortunately, the problem is that Eddie has never been one to filter himself. So when Steve calls him out for the nickname and he panics, Eddie's knee-jerk reaction is to say, "Oh, would you prefer something else? How about pretty boy? Sweetheart? Gorgeous? Handsome?"

Even though it's dark out, Eddie can still see the blush that spreads across Steve's cheeks, the way his fingers tighten on the wheel until his knuckles turn white. He's getting flustered, and Eddie feels himself getting flustered, too, at the idea that it's because of him. He suddenly wants to see what else he can say or do to make that blush spread, and he wants to know just how far it spreads beneath the collar of Steve's shirt.

"Just, uh, whatever you prefer, I guess," Steve mumbles, keeping his eyes resolutely focused on the road and missing Eddie's surprised expression. He does, however, sneak a glance just in time to see the surprise morph into an unbridled grin.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning back in his seat and looking forward to spending the rest of this road trip discovering what makes his Stevie tick.

----

Tag List! There is still room, I think lol

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos

[elsfavor1te]

Could I ask for an Ellie with a girlfriend who's a drummer? Thank youu!!

CRAZY TALENTED

i enjoyed writing this so bad, i’m also like really sorry the smut at the end is so short…. i don’t really have an excuse BUT this is two posts in one day, cut your girl some slack mkay?

warnings: modern!ellie williams x drummer!reader. generally just sub!ellie. dom(ish)!reader. reader displays casual dominance a few times. man spreading (r). smut at the end! fingering (ellie receiving). lmk if i forget anything babies. (side note, this really was not proofread so m’sorry for any typos.)

—————

WHEN YOU MET.

ellie insists that when you met it was love at first sight. she remembers it clearly, her in an uncomfortable metal chair amongst other crowd members in the humid bar. and you. pretty as ever you, who caught her eye immediately, up on stage playing the hell out of those drums.

ellie was mesmerized, the way your head bobs as the sticks in your hands beat down on the huge drumset in front of you, how you’d smile when a crowd member would shout in praise or let out a wolf whistle.

you were apart of an indie band who’s on a steady rise to stardom. this was her first time at one of your performances, initially just wanting a night out but staying for the show.

ellie is pulled out of her thoughts by you going on to your drumming solo, bringing a huge grin to her face when your head aggressively bobs and hands move at a pace that made them look like little blurs.

when you finish, claps break out from all around. people shout, whistle, snap, all of the above. the love directed at you makes you bring your hands to your face, covering up your bashful smile. you playfully groan when your band mate pulls you into a hug, whispering praises in your ear.

you’re thanking everyone, giving a little bow when your eyes meet the distinct green ones. you’re stopped in your tracks, unable to bring yourself to look away.

a lazy grin pulls at your lips when you see the sort-of dazed look on her face when you don’t look away.

in sync, your bodies erupted in chills.

TEACHING HER.

“you’re crazy talented…” ellie’s voice comes over the sound of the loud echos of the drums. you stop, bringing both of your sticks to one hand.

“hm?” you tilt your head a little, not really hearing what she said.

“i said, you’re talented. i could never do that, the most i can do is run my fingers over a few strings.”

you smile at her compliment. “thank you baby,” your lip is pulled between your teeth as you think for a second before motioning for her to come over. “..i bet you could do it, c’mere.”

ellie had tagged along to your solo practice, (as she does quite frequently these days). the practice room was something like a mix between a garage and a band room you would see in the average highschool.

ellie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she followed your command nonetheless. when you pat your thigh for her to sit, her face gains a rosy tint and her eyes widen.

“w-what? you want me to sit?”

“mhm, wanna teach you.” you casually manspread a bit more, giving space for her to sit down. your hands come to both sides of her waist to pull her back into you when she shyly sits down near your knee.

“you wanna fall?” you scold her softly. “here hold these…”

ellie takes the drumsticks from your hands, letting you position them correctly. your head comes to rest on her shoulder as you start to guide her hands to the correct drum you want her to hit down on.

her focus is broken by the gentle bounce of your leg as you keep count of the beats, her face breaks out into a blush, and she nearly drops one of the sticks.

“pay attention.” you scold gently.

SHOWING HER.

ellie’s comment got herself here.

“you’re so fuckin’ fast with your hands….”

naturally, you had to show her just how fast you could be. now she’s pinned beneath you, back arching up as your fingers relentlessly tortured her sopping cunt.

“fuck— baby please.” she whined, looking down at you with those big green eyes clouded in tears.

“what’s my girl need, huh?” you smirked at her from between her legs. you were being cocky, you’d been kissing up and down her thighs for going on 10 minutes now, you knew exactly what she needed.

“y’mouth.. need it so bad.” she punctuates her sentence by grinding down, trying desperately to find your mouth.

“what do you say?”

“please.”

[twigg96]

If you have the time I was wondering can you write some headcanons of the boys, Charles, Magnus, and MMA reacting to feeling their pregnant s/o’s baby kicking for the first time?

Hello sweet Anon! This idea is so so so cute!! I love the idea of the boys becoming dads and just the little fluttering of baby feet is so sweet <3 I really hope I did this justice! Thank you for the ask and please feel free to ask for any more ideas you may have.

Nathan:

Nathan couldn't wait to meet his angel. He talked to his partner’s belly every single day from the time you brought him the positive pregnancy test. He kissed your belly goodbye just as he kissed their cheek when he left. Reading to the baby became routine, his large hand resting on his S/O’s tummy as they rested in bed, Nathan read all the greats, Shakespeare, Dickins (though they were pretty positive that Nathan chose him for his name and not what he wrote), Austin, though they did have to draw the line at Orwell. "We need to start early or he'll end up like me. Dumb as shit." Was something he often recited much to his partner’s bemusement.

Watching Nathan read was always a gift in and of itself. His nose would crinkle in deep seeded concentration. Eyes narrowing and squinting as he tried to pronounce the long hard words such as prejudice and fanciful. His hand would briefly leave their tummy to trace the word. Sounding out each syllable before returning to its resting place. "Gotta make sure the kid knows how it's pronounced." He reasoned, his thumb tracing over the growing bump.

His partner had felt the flutter much sooner than Nathan did. Much to his disappointment. It startled them at first. It felt like gas bubbles dancing around in their abdomen. Like someone had let loose a swarm of moths to dance around in their tummy. Nathan begged to feel pressing his whole face against their belly when the doctor informed them both of what the feeling was at the next appointment. But it wasn't to be... not yet.

The baby fluttered and danced more and more when he could hear Nathan's voice. It wasn't hard. Sometimes when he sang half way across Mordhaus the baby squirmed and wiggled almost as if wishing to join his daddy. Each time his partner felt it they cried Nathan's name and he came running. But eventually when the feeling became a normal occurrence and Charles insured them both that eventually he would feel the baby naturally so that they stopped interrupting his practice sessions.

It wasn't until they were well into their eighth week of pregnancy that it happened. Nathan and his partner were both laying in bed tired as all hell. The little boy decided that it would be fun to cram himself in the space between Nathan’s partners kidneys using them as boxing practice. Nathan bounced between reading Frankenstein and glaring disapprovingly at his love’s visible discomfort. "Hey." He growled leaning low to their tummy. "Listen here. It's not brutal to treat your mom like shit. Kicking kidneys is brutal as hell but only Uncle Pickles is allowed to do that to his mom-" His rambling came to a stop. His cheek had just pressed to his partner’s belly. As if he was listening to his son's response. But he never needed to hear it. Not with a kick like that leaving a near bruise on his cheek. "Hey!-" Nathan gasped sitting up he looked ready to go on another tangent, when his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and met his partner’s loving gaze. The baby kicked him... he felt his son kick.

The smile that spread over his face was near face splitting. "You little shit..."

Pickles:

From the moment they both knew of their little bean Pickles had been using his partner’s tummy to drum out new beats. It was never hard or to hurt. His hand was just drawn to the growing tummy rhythmically tapping his fingers against skin that slowly became taught and rounder by the day.

Unlike Nathan Pickles found his tongue tied when his partner asked him to talk to the baby. "It'll know my voice by the time it's born... I never shut up." He offered though they could see the nervousness in his eyes every time he brought up the baby in a serious tone. Fears of his own childhood plagued him in ways his partner couldn't hope to begin to understand.

It was this misunderstanding that spurred argument after argument. None ever lasting. None serious enough to drive a wedge. But enough to make his partner’s already erratic emotions all the more frayed.

It was after a particularly prickly argument that his partner laid on the couch desperately swiping away tears. Sniffles stuck to the inside of their throat as they fought off another wave of sobs driven by the nausea that waved over them that they never quite kicked in the first trimester. Pickles had done all the apologizing he could. He never really said he was sorry. But he made it up with his presence and being.

Silently drumming a new song onto his S/O’s tummy he sighed, sinking deeper into the leather seat of the couch. It was silent all except the high pitched hum of the TV hanging from the ceiling from a meat hook. The reality show the two had been watching long since silenced. "You're an asshole sometimes, Pickles." They whispered shakily. Pickles eyes were dull as they stared just below the screen. "I know." He answered.

The fluttering in his partner’s tummy picked up. The skin there danced with little feet pressing against it and Pickles nearly jumped a full six feet in the air. Leaning back he eyed them and their tummy as if afraid to hurt his love and the baby with his mere touch. Hand held high he clenched and unclenched his ringed fingers fidgeting anxiously. The giggle that rolled through his partner was purely unabashed. pulling his palm back to their tummy they smiled. "I think the baby thinks so too."

Skwisgaar:

The guitarist has so many children that at this point he just assumed it had to be something in the air. Just him breathing would get a devoted fan pregnant. Or so he assumed. So when he and his partner got married and kids came into question he suggested swiping a premade kid. And while they were fine with adoption his spouse never wanted to uproot a child’s life simply because they wanted a family. And so he insisted that if they just wait and be patient. It was bound to happen sooner than later

But when later never came to their shared surprise. Worry sprouted over the little family. Infertility plagued them both. And though his partner blamed themselves expressly Skwisgaar blamed himself for being so promiscuous when he was younger. “I’ve wasted all the soldiers I got.” A lot of the pain shared turned into beautiful and chilling music on his part.

The two of them saw specialist after specialist. Plans were laid out in large manilla folders. Changing diets, taking hormones and upping the times they tried for a baby doubled even though they already had a very healthy sex life. Skwisgaar and his partner tearfully debating on hiring a surrogate while leaning over the last pregnancy test the two had, their last chance. Silent prayers and fidgeting fingers twiddled over the test too scared to look. To afraid to reveal… the positive.

From then on Skwisgaar treated his spouse like a goddess. Not that he didn’t before but he kneeled at their feet and worshipped them now. He was never present with any of his other children. But seeing the blessing growing in his partner’s belly every sonogram made his heart sing. And so he started writing more and more music. Playing them all for the baby. “Is he kickings yet?” He asked excitedly. “Does he like it?!”

It was during one of his new songs that his S/O felt the baby kick. Pulling their husband’s hand from his guitar, he glared at them for interrupting him until he felt the little fluttering under the palm of his hand. He sat up in bed. Face in awe his blue eyes wide and bright as starlight as he sat up straight. Skwisgaar watched with a mixture of amazement, love, and curiosity as the skin on his love’s belly danced beneath his palm. Still as a board he waited watching his hand then his spouse’s face as if scared he’d break something if he breathed. “He’s just saying he loves you.” They whispered kissing him sweetly.

Toki:

Toki’s partner knew they wanted kids as soon as they met the man. The only problem was that they were never able to have said kids. They weren’t exactly born with the tidbits to carry a kid. Which was fine! Toki loved them fully and truly for who they were. All of them. He never wanted to change anything and they’ve done a lot in their life to become the person you are today.

So when the first few years of the marriage passed and they both were happy starting to discuss the possibility of children the first stop was to the doctor to talk about surrogacy. It wasn’t long after they had signed up that they both had a fair choice of women ready to carry the baby.

The two went with a woman that lived fairly close to Mordhaus. Toki and his spouse wanted her to have the freedom of her own life but was desperate to stay connected and see that her medical bills were well and paid as they watched the pregnancy progress.

Toki was over excited about his baby girl. Even before the two knew her gender he was buying the cutest frilliest dresses claiming he just knew in his heart of hearts that he was going to have a daughter. The two made it a common date to go out and shop for the baby’s room. Pink blankets, frilly dresses, bows, stuffies, the works. When old ladies would ask where their daughter was or how far along was his partner Toki always answered they his princess was in another castle.

It was during a visit from their surrogate that it happened. Toki’s partner had made a delicious and healthy dinner for the three of them. They asked her how she wanted her birth plan to go. The two only wanted a healthy baby and told her how she gave birth was her experience alone. Their surrogate happily told them she wanted to give birth naturally but anything that kept the baby alright, she was happy with.

Toki and his partner happily agreed to the plan, slowly devolving the subject from one to another. Telling story after story about the band and its members. How they first met. The time that Rockzo and Toki went riding in the dunes. So on and so on.

Suddenly the surrogate jumped and giggled reaching for both of their hands she pressed them firmly against her tummy. “Oh! I think she’s excited to meet her mommy and daddy!” She chimed. Toki’s partner couldn’t believe it. The surrogate’s belly was warm and round. They felt her bump before and mourned the fact that they’d be unable to feel the experience themselves but as the little pats against their palm grew stronger with their touch. They couldn’t help but let a tearful laugh escape. Their baby. Toki and their own daughter was squirming and reaching out for them. Toki’s expression shifted from slightly distant, as he lost himself in a memory his partner was never to know about, to bright and excited. “That’s my girl! That’s my baby!” He screamed jumping up and down, running his fingers through his hair. “Get here soon baby! Daddy’s so excited to meets you!”

Murderface:

He didn’t want kids. Or so he said to the public. In reality he and his spouse already had three children running around. The only issue with it all was that Murderface was never home during the majority of his partner’s pregnancies. Being a major touring Bassist in one of the biggest bands in the world didn’t give him much leeway to spend family time with his S/O the world didn’t know about.

The day they found out about their fourth, William was promising things would be different. Being pregnant and caring for the children they already had was a lot on anyone. William told Charles to cancel the next leg of the tour. Just until the baby was born.

It was strange for him to see the pregnancy the whole way through so close up. His partner argued that they could handle themselves. Besides they had raised three children without his help so far. But maybe it was his close embrace with death. Or the fact that his grandmother was sick that made him see value in family. But William doted on them hand and foot.

Murderface was extremely behind on his knowledge of how children were brought into the world, especially the middle parts. Morning sickness was both fascinating and disgusted him greatly. His spouse had it worse with this one than the others. He was never been around to see it anyway. So when he offered his partner ginger snaps. A generous idea at the time really. And they immediately got sick it frightened him. Cravings went both ways with his partner apparently. There were foods they wanted with all their life like baked beans, hotdogs and horseradish, or pickles in Mac and Cheese. Then there were ones that triggered the morning sickness the worse. The ginger snaps were a big one he didn’t know about and avoided like the plague from then on.

When his S/O first felt their belly flutter with little kicks a few months in they eagerly called the children into the room to feel the baby. Confused Murderface followed asking what you were on about. The baby was in his partner’s belly. And would be for a while. There was no way to feel it without hurting someone.

His partner snorted and shook their head, taking his hand and held it to their belly waiting for his reaction when the kicking suddenly stopped. William just pouted. “Schee told you.” He huffed. But it was easy to tell he was disappointed.

From then on they both could have sworn he was cursed. Every time the baby kicked his S/O yelled out eager to have Murderface feel the baby. Each time he came the baby went quiet. William swore it was because the baby hated him. His partner promised the baby didn’t but after a while they didn’t entirely have another explanation for what was happening.

At the next ultrasound appointment they asked the doctor why your baby went still when William was around. The doctor laughed especially at your husband who pouted and pretended not to be offended by your baby’s silence.

“They’re just sleeping Mrs. Murderface.” The doctor assured. “The baby is soothed by your voice and goes to sleep when your near.”

Sleepy. He made the baby feel safe and secure. That was a good thing. But William still wanted to feel that baby kick damn it.

It took a while. A lot more patience on William’s end than he’s used to. But by staying by his partner’s side long enough and pressing his hand to their tummy quietly without a word. It finally happened! He felt the little shit kick! and he couldn’t have been happier.

Charles:

How things managed to end up how they had is a mystery to Charles. He hardly had time to sleep at night let alone find the time to fall in love and have a baby. Yet here he was. And he couldn’t be happier.

The secret was that his partner had stolen his heart during work hours. It was against company policies to fraternize with upper level gears and in truth they were the lowest gear of the low. Luckily for them “technically” Charles never once broke that rule. Due to Charles’ tendency to work well past his allotted hours they often found themselves cleaning his office while he was still working.

The two got to talking. Eventually Charles let them call him his real name not just “sir”. One late night of working turned to another. Then another. Then suddenly Charles was staying for more reasons than his pile of paperwork to work on at his desk. And… Well.. One thing lead to another… and here they were pregnant and married to the CFO of all Dethklok.

Charles was a very observant man. He knew them more than anyone. Maybe more than they knew themselves. And the pregnancy hadn’t been especially easy. Morning sickness more than ravaged their body in the first trimester. Charles had to special order an anti nausea medication for his partner. Not to mention the other natal meds and term antidepressants that his partner needed.

Charles was almost afraid to leave his partner alone. But his job was more dangerous than most. And his partner’s pregnancy was precarious. Stress was a huge no no in the Offdensen household. And so Charles hired a team of on call nursing staff to live in at Mordhaus. He built a special birthing wing for his partner and hired a team of mental health and massage therapists to help keep stress down.

Down time between the two was scarce but Charles did his best to spend it wisely. His partner tried their best too. Long baths were spent in the extra large clawed foot bathtub. Scented oils and flower pedals floated on top of the water and wrapped across their bodies as sensually as the touches they shared.

His hand rested on his partner’s growing tummy as he pressed soft kisses to the side of their neck whispering soft nothings and excited promises in their ear.

“You’re so brave darling. I’m so proud of you. Don’t you forget that my love.” Words he’d only ever whisper to his love of loves. “I love you.”

The kicks started soft. Gentle against his partner’s belly. He could barely even feel them when his love moved their hands around to catch butterflies that roamed their tummy. But soon. One after the other. Charlie could feel them pat patting against his fingers. “I think they love you too.”

Magnus:

He was not ready for kids at all. He was poor and broke and living off of a box of half eaten cheese balls and toaster strudel when his partner first announced the pregnancy. He wanted to just wish his partner a fond farewell. He’d happily send an alimony and child support check in the mail every so often to cover the costs and go to jail because he wasn’t meeting the quota he needed not to go to jail.

But after much long deliberation and long and hard discussions with his partner about what they were going to do at this point. Magnus just couldn’t bare putting his child up for adoption to suffer a fate similar to his own. So together they started pinching Pennie’s.

Together they both worked 5 jobs collectively. Magnus picked up more and more shifts at his 3 dead end jobs while his partner worked their asses off at the two they had. Eventually, they saved up enough to buy a nice crib. Then the paint they’d need to turn the corner of their room into a nursery. Magnus was looking up apartments with 2 bedrooms for well over 3 months now with no success. Either the rent was way too high or the location was so dangerous it was out of the question.

It was after his partner’s second shift that Magnus sat in the parking lot with his beater car off so as not to waste gas. His seat was reclined back his eyes closed as he waited. Visions of destroying Dethklok dancing in his head. The passenger side door only pulled him from his musing for a Brief moment. It wasn’t until his partner groaned and placed his hand against their tummy that he cracked an eye open.

“Tell your kid to stop kicking me in the spine.” They whined plopping back against the passenger seat. With a deep groan Magnus reached down to his side pulling on the lever to raise his seat back into a sitting position. His hair was a mess and greasy from his shift in the garage he just got off from. His next shift started in less than 4 hours and he was desperate to get home and get some sleep. But when his partner didn’t sleep neither did he.

“Listen here you little shit.” Magnus growled gently rubbing his partner’s belly. “You leave momma alone or else.” He murmured. His partner gasped as the baby kicked harder into their spine. Little fists punched up into his palm. A little rebellion picked up straight from their daddy. Brat.

MMA:

This man was a different person before he lost his brother. Was he still an assassin and a heartless murderer? Oh absolutely yes. But that’s how he met his partner. He was assigned to take them out. But when he met his match… well. One thing led to another. Next thing he knew he had really taken them out, to slaughter the person that hired him… and pick up some McDonald’s on the way home.

It wasn’t long before his partner was pregnant. Not that they knew right away. Nor that they cared once they found out. A baby was… difficult in their line of work. But so was love. And he figured he was killing at that so far. Literally. what was one more person to protect and bring into the family business?

It was after an especially difficult job. The two were covered in blood and guts and gore kissing passionately, debating on if they wanted to take each other right there or take it home when he felt little patters kick against his body through his partner’s belly. His first reaction was to glare. What the actual fuck?! But when it happened again and he remembered that there was a baby in his loves belly he relaxed and smiled.

He was going to do anything for that child no matter what.

[rainbowcaleb]

Snail Sneeze

516 words of Jesties friendship. Read/kudos/comment on ao3.

“Wrigglely piggley higglely doo.”

“Jester, I really don’t see how–hck.”

“You have to repeat after me!” The voice comes from the direction of Essek’s stomach, blue hair and belled horns laying on his middle. Her voice carries a smile and barely suppressed giggles even if Essek cannot see them at this flat angle.

“Is this a children’s rhyme? hck.” 

“Does it matter, Essie? Don’t you trust me?” Her head rolls slightly to look his way. The sensation of her weight and closeness is odd, not uncomfortable or unwanted, but just... unusual. 

“Of course I do.” As if there is any other answer. “It’s just that hck a dozen other methods have already proven to hck be insufficient against these stubborn hiccups.”

“You could just keep them.” Jester laughs. “They’re the cutest I’ve ever heard, like a little snail sneeze.”

“Have you heard a snail snee-hck?” Light be damned, this is annoying.

Jester’s head bounces with his hiccups and in turn she erupts in giggles each time. “This is like a waterbed that fights back. Now Essek, come on and be serious!”

“I’m always–hck, ah.”

“Repeat after me. Wrigglely piggley–”

“Wrigglely piggley higglely doo.” Essek manages between gulps of hiccuped breath. 

“Rolly pollies would rather roll than run.” Jester’s voice is singsong, every word clear with familiarity. Essek wonders if her mother taught her this remedy.

“I–, hck, rolly pollies would rather roll than run.” His tongue feels heavy with the concentration it takes to enunciate the twisty words. 

“Little Jester just lovingly jumps leaps in jungle lands.” She reaches up to pat Essek’s chest with each syllable, his own little drum beat. 

Essek can feel his teeth practically clack in his mouth but he forces out the phrase. He squeezes his eyes shut in concentration.

“Caleb’s asset of ass is an astounding achievement.” 

“Caleb’s ass– Jester!” Essek sits up on his elbows just enough to look at her. She is covering her mouth but the laughs still erupt from around her fingers. He plops back down again, staring at the painted ceiling and feeling something he doesn’t know how to name even if looking right at it.

They lay there in near silence for a few minutes, the rise and fall of Essek’s now slowed breathing a gentle wave for Jester’s head to rest. Her soft humming is another layer of warm buzz against Essek’s skin. The quiet feels like a blanket and he welcomes it.

After a moment, he realizes.

“Ah, it worked. I have stopped.”

“Of course it did!” She pumps her arms up and down in celebration but doesn’t roll off him. “This is mama’s patented hiccup solution, it always works.” 

Essek feels that warm space he can’t identify bloom again in his chest. “Thank you Jester, for sharing that with me.”

She pats his stomach again in answer and continues to hum a little song to herself, the phrasing interrupted here and there as she points out the shapes of brushstroke clouds on the ceiling and not so subtly asks Essek if he sees the dicks hidden there too. 

[skyrimissol]

oh Kaidan....

"Wait, you really are a bard, then?" Kaidan asked as the group sat around the fire at his old camp grounds.

"Even I knew that." Gore scoffed.

I felt a smile tug at my lips and deliberately said nothing, choosing instead to meticulously clean the strings on my lute, just as I did every evening.

"Come on Kaidan," Val chimed in, "why do you think Thel carries that lute everywhere? Not to mention her drum and her flute. She's the only one in this group who can give me a run for my money when it comes to fast talking. When was the last time we had to pay for an inn room?"

Kaidan stared at me wide eyed. "I, uh... well I didn't really think much about it. Ya know, we just kinda sleep where we are. Sometimes we camp out, sometimes we get an inn room. She's just always handled the details."

Val shook his head. "And you never even thought to ask why we never heard "Ragnar the Red" when we stayed at an inn.

"It's not a big deal, Kaidan." I decided to step in and help my poor, floundering companion. "I didn't say anything because I know how you feel about bards."

That statement put an end to the conversation and we continued to enjoy the sounds of nature. The waves of the lake lapped against us the shore, the fire crackled, and insects chirped in the otherwise still night.

It was nearing the end of my watch when I heard Kaidan walking towards me. All this time together and the man still could not walk quietly to save his life.

"Thelassa, do you uh, do you mind telling me how you think I feel about bards?"

His mumbled question told me my earlier statement had been bothering him for a while. I waited for him to sit down before I faced him and smiled. "Every time we walk into an inn, you tell me how you prefer your tent because it has everything you need and" I changed my voice to do a terrible impression of him, "no, fookin bards."

Kaidan winced. I chuckled softly.

"So for your comfort, I practice when you're asleep or when you're deep in your cups. It's easy enough to go unnoticed that way."

We stared across the lake for a time, in that peaceful space right before the sun comes up when the world is full of potential and wonder. I got up to head to the tent to get ready for the day.

Kaidan's voice reached me, soft as a whisper. "Ya know, if ya want to play for us sometime, I wouldn't mind so much."

I smiled and without turning around replied, "I promise, no Ragnar the Red."

[srsdenver]

What Are The Perks Of Music Practice Space?

Practicing your music in a music practice space is all over a different experience. You get your personal dedicated space to practice, analyze and modify your music. Moreover, working in a good environment motivates you to work harder and a dedicated studio will motivate you to make better music. Look for the music practice space at South Acoma Street for a high quality experience. Read further for detail.

Three Reasons To Hire A Music Rehearsal Studio

Hiring a rehearsal studio will help in your growth. To grow as an artist, you should master music mixing and recording. With a music rehearsal studio, you get the chance to meet new artists with different ideas and mindsets. Given are the three reasons for you to hire a music studio.

Soundproof Rooms

When you practice drums at your home, the possibility of interrupting others and the possibility of getting interrupted increases. The studios are soundproof which minimize the possibility of getting disturbed or distracted. Visit the drum practice room at South Acoma Street for an astonishing experience. Knowledgeable Staff The staff from the music studio is fully aware of the systems. If in any case, you feel any difficulty in managing or understanding the process, the staff will help you troubleshoot the issue. It will help you learn new things yourself.

2.Knowledgeable Staff

The staff from the music studio is fully aware of the systems. If in any case, you feel any difficulty in managing or understanding the process, the staff will help you troubleshoot the issue. It will help you learn new things yourself.

3. Meeting New Artists

Music studios are adequate places for you to meet another talented artist. You can collaborate and promote your band or the upcoming shows. It is good for your growth to expand your network. Check out the music practice space at South Acoma Street for a better experience.

Book Your Music Rehearsal Studio Today!

Practice makes perfect! If you want to practice your drums, visit the drum practice room at South Acoma Street for a stand-out music experience. The rehearsal studio will help the artists in advancing their careers.

[married-2-the-music]

K-pop Discography Deep Dives: LUCY

Lucy is the third full-fledged band I’ve covered here, which means that they compose, write, and play instruments. The members are Wonsang (bass), Sangyeop (guitar and vocals), Gwangil (drums), and Yechan (violin), and they debuted in 2020. Apparently, the name Lucy is in honor of a dog that lived close to where they practiced, which is pretty funny.

Here are my credentials: Uh…very few, I’m afraid. Lucy caught my eye in a compilation video (or rather, the violin did), and I decided to check out their music. I know a few title tracks, but very few of their b-sides, and very little about the members themselves, so I’m looking forward to learning more.

Flowering, their debut, was also the first song I’d heard of Lucy’s, from a compilation video (the name of which I’ve unfortunately forgotten). It begins understated, but later blossoms (ha!) into a very catchy though still gentle pop song, absolutely giving the feeling of spring coming into the air. The violin adds a kind of texture not usually seen in k-pop, and its beautiful instrumental section is one of my favorite parts. Really, this song is stunning. What a way to start. The intro is also quite lovely.

Jogging is, right away, a more bright and youthful song than Flowering, and I can always appreciate it when a band accepts the innate humor of their work. If Flowering was spring, this song feels like the beginning of summer: a touch childish, fun-loving, funny, and colorful. It got a few chuckles out of me, I’ll give it that, and that chorus was pretty catchy. I liked how they still managed to work the violin in and add depth, but not make the song less upbeat.

From the EP, Panorama, I enjoyed the violin flourishes in the post-chorus of Straight Line, Suran’s featured voice (which goes so well with Sangyeop’s) in the laid back Missing Call, and the rising tension that suddenly switches up to a great, nostalgic summer track in Flare (absolutely my hidden gem; it was excellent).

Snooze’s opening of only violin and piano is more melancholy than their other intros, adding well to the song’s general sense of nostalgia and disillusionment. The chorus brings in some much-needed levity, turning that nostalgia into something brighter but still deeply felt, connecting to many people who also feel like their childhoods have been lost. This may be my favorite so far! I’m a sucker for bittersweet songs with a driving beat, and as someone who grew up near the ocean, the beach and lighthouse in the MV only made me love it more. I also liked the slow burn of this single’s b-side, Farther and Farther, whose catharsis feels very earned.

Hero too starts with a more melancholy feeling, though instead of a beachside feeling in its later moments, it goes for a more truly happy retro one inspired by space. Like Snooze, it focuses on not living up to ideals, but this one takes the route of not being a perfect person but having a lover (or other loved one; it’s not specific) who lifts you up and makes you feel special, like a hero. In an industry so populated by love songs, I really enjoyed this slightly more vulnerable take on one; it feels unique. I also liked the very peaceful outro from this single. It felt like a score from a movie about fairies. Stove is also great, especially the ending chorus.

I Got U, instead of violin, begins with a minimalistic, finger-snapping gentle guitar and bass beat. Sangyeop’s vocals are especially nice in this song; they feel floaty and peaceful, and the synthesizers and strings emphasize those qualities. Again, I appreciate the vulnerability expressed in this song, and I think that the very sparingly used instruments really complement those choices. From the EP, Gatcha, I enjoyed the push-and-pull between the brighter and darker energies in the synthy One by One, the hand clapping percussion in Buddy, and the slightly more toned-down strings in Wonder.

This is more a comment on their songs in general, but I love how down to earth their music videos are and how much fun they seem to be having making music together. It’s easy to forget—even for me, writing these reviews—that the people in these bands are humans, with their own hopes and personalities, not just faces on a screen for us to critique. But they never let me forget it, and I appreciate that. I wish more bands would do it!

Irrelevant Answer is much more of a rock song, right out of the gate, which, with my love of Dreamcatcher, I’m totally in favor of. This song reminded me of a mashup of them and Day6 in the best way, with a propulsive energy that, despite a few dips and moments to breathe, never lost my attention. I was nodding my head from the first chorus, and I just didn’t stop!

Rolling Rolling feels a lot more like the k-pop I’m used to than Lucy’s past tracks (which, I want to be clear, isn’t a bad thing at all, since this is a k-pop review blog after all!). It has a synthier, more electronic background, with retro influences that give it an excellent beat for roller skating. Like I mentioned before, I think that the violin adds depth to what could be simple songs, and this one’s no exception. Also, I appreciate how the track goes from talking about how life just goes around and around to becoming genuinely inspiring as the MV shows people finally pursuing their dreams. From the EP, Blue, my hidden gem was You’re Right with its excellent guitar riffs, but I also enjoyed the more mellow Eclipse.

Blue Voyage is a single, and follows in the steps of Snooze with its nostalgic, beachside feeling, but instead of going for a bittersweet rumination on lost youth, it’s an upbeat and sunny love song. The chipper instrumental and light quality to the strings just feels like summer, and since it’s December when I’m typing this, it’s a nice reminder that it won’t be 30 degrees out until the end of time and that in a few months, short sleeves will stop being insane.

Play, unsurprisingly from an album called Childhood, follows in the steps of Snooze in the opposite way to Blue Voyage. It’s a reminder of simpler, happier times when you could just live life without cares, and how the people we love bring us back to those times. I like the choice to make the verses quite minor and almost sad, while the chorus is bright and free-wheeling, and the way they come together is great. I also enjoyed the “lalalala” fade out and the half-cartoony, half-realistic shots of the music video, which worked well with the subject matter.

From the full album, Childhood, I enjoyed the call-and-response in Knowhow, the way the drums and strings mix together in 10 sec, the rushing energy of Opening, the gentle guitar in You Are My Light, and Song Eun Hye’s feature on We Will Fly Away (which was my hidden gem).

Some Day In The 21st Century’s excited intro is a welcome shift from the sadder Play, though it sticks to Lucy’s running theme of wanting to hold on to the past and stay close to one’s own childhood. I’m normally not a fan of chanting in k-pop, but here in this song’s post-chorus, it really works with the feeling of nostalgia the track imparts and blends in seamlessly with the instrumental and the soaring vocals. Also, there’s the return of the violin solo, which is always welcome.

Unbelievable is on the brighter, more cartoony side of Lucy’s discography, and the MV made me laugh uncontrollably due to war flashbacks of the time I was obsessed with Minecraft as a kid, though I understand that the MV’s supposed to be a shoutout to a range of video games. Its choppy background, springy guitar, and incredibly fast strings do a good job propping up the song’s feel-good message of “believe in yourself”, though I had to watch it a second time because I was laugh-cringing too hard (which is my own fault, I suppose). From the EP, Insert Coin, I enjoyed the quite catchy beat of Tied Up, and especially the metal influences on Fill It Up.

Haze is only the second song I’d heard of Lucy’s, which is a bit funny as it’s also one of their most recent. It embraces the same kind of warm spring feeling that Flowering does, but with more of a soft rock edge. I enjoyed the muted, echoing chatting in the pre-chorus that felt like cheering someone on to get back again. I also really appreciate the messaging of this one to never give up, expressed through people facing bullying, a sports injury, and tests with the help of support. It’s a very sweet message, and everyone needs a song like it, sometimes. From the EP, Fever, I enjoyed the strong driving beat and call-and-response of So What.

Boogie Man goes further into rock than most of their songs, and I adore the over-dramatic direction they took with this one, since it feels right out of Halloween. The song is funky and a touch jazzy, and just generally fun, with some slight digressions here and there to give the violin some time to shine, and I also really liked the choppy nature of when the instruments choose to kick in and pull back, making it feel dynamic and playful. I didn’t expect to love this one so much, but it became one of my favorites.

So, I’m glad I did this! I wouldn’t quite call myself a Walwal (their fandom name), but I can definitely consider myself at least a fan. Their discography is so joyful and bright, while also being nostalgic and genuine in its emotions. They seem like they’re not afraid to laugh at themselves and have fun with their music, which is always great to see. Watching some behind the scenes content gave me some great laughs as well. Overall, I had a good time!

My Top 5 songs are Snooze, Flare, Boogie Man, Irrelevant Answer, and Flowering, with You’re Right as an honorable mention. Lucy gets a 9 out of 10 from me, which is a surprise for everyone involved, but a happy one! I’ll be looking forward to their next releases, and who knows? I could definitely see myself becoming a Walwal in the future.

Next time, we’ll be doing Part 2 of Girls’ Generation. Tschuss!

[justletmewritepls]

Memories (Tokyo Revengers Mikey x Reader)

Chapter 9

Another practice session. The familiar hum of our instruments filled the room, the vibrations of bass and guitar mixing with the sound of drumsticks tapping the snare. It was like second nature by now.

As usual, I was standing near the center, microphone in hand, trying to get my head in the game. The guys were getting their instruments ready, the usual banter flying around. But today, there was something different in the air. Something… off.

I wasn’t sure why, but I could feel a tension building before the first note even rang out.

"So," Shindo (Kouichi Shindou) drawled from the back of the room. I turned to see him grinning, already teasing. "What’s the deal with those guys backstage last week? You know, the ones who looked like they just walked out of some cheesy action movie?"

My stomach dropped, but I tried not to let it show. "What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my voice light, hoping to throw him off.

Shindo didn’t miss a beat. "The guys who were all up in your personal space. You know, the one who couldn’t stop getting waaay too close for comfort." He made a face, pulling his hands to his chest and mimicking Mikey’s actions—his mocking version of Mikey was spot-on.

I could feel heat rushing to my face. I wasn’t sure how to respond. "It’s not like that," I muttered, hoping to brush it off.

But of course, Bakugo (Katsuki Bakugo) wasn’t going to let it go. He always had to chime in, and this time he did so with that typical scowl of his. "The hell was that about?" he scoffed, his voice rough. "What kind of guy gets all touchy with someone else’s friend like that?"

I took a deep breath, not wanting to get into it. "I said, it’s not like that," I repeated, a little sharper this time.

Shindo grinned, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "You sure? ‘Cause it looked like he was about to stake a claim on you right there."

I tried to ignore the comment, shifting my weight and looking around the room. Yamada (Akito Yamada), our bass guitarist, didn’t hesitate to chime in, his tone as blunt as ever. "You seemed pretty distracted when they were here. Especially the guy who kept getting so close. Why’d he act like you were the only person in the room?"

My fingers tightened around the mic, and I could feel the knot in my stomach growing. I didn’t want to get into it—not here, not now. It was just too complicated.

"I’ve known them for a long time," I said, trying to keep it vague. "They’re just… old friends."

Shindo leaned back against the wall with that easygoing smile of his, though his eyes never left me. "Old friends, huh?" he mused. "Seems like someone’s got some people who like to hover."

Bakugo snorted, tapping his sticks against the drum. "I don’t buy it. You looked a little too…comfortable with them for it to be just 'friends.'"

"Maybe they were just looking out for her," Kamado (Tanjiro Kamado) mumbled, his soft voice trying to smooth things over. I appreciated it, but the tension was already there, thick and uncomfortable.

I let out a sigh, knowing where this was headed. "Can we just focus on the music?" I suggested, hoping to steer things back on track.

"Right," Bakugo muttered, though he wasn’t done with the teasing. "Maybe I should start getting all touchy-feely too. See how that works out."

I shot him a glare, feeling my face flush again. "I swear, Bakugo, you’re impossible."

Shindo chuckled, crossing his arms. "You really should just tell him the truth," he teased. "You know, keep him on his toes."

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile at his blatant teasing. The last thing I needed right now was to add fuel to the fire. "It’s not like that, okay?"

Yamada, always blunt and direct, shot me a questioning look. "Sure, but what if it is like that?" he asked, his tone flat. He didn’t seem to realize how cold he sounded—like it was an obvious conclusion to him.

Before I could say anything, Kamado awkwardly cleared his throat, giving me a hesitant look from behind his keyboard. "W-we could just practice the new track... if that's okay? It’s what we’re here for, right?"

I was grateful for his quiet intervention. "Yeah, let’s do that," I agreed quickly, happy to leave the awkwardness behind and focus on something else.

As we began to play, I couldn’t shake the thoughts of Mikey and the others from my mind. The way Mikey had stood so close, the guilt in his eyes—why did I keep thinking about it? I didn’t want to. I needed to just focus on the music, but their presence lingered in the back of my mind.

Kamado gave me another one of his quiet, reassuring smiles as we played through the track, and I tried my best to focus on the notes in front of me. But even with the music filling the room, the thoughts of them—of him—were still there, lingering in the background.

[missmagooglie]

Tagged for Fuck It Friday by @zahlibeth so I'm gonna lean into the spirit of the thing and post snippets from a few things I'm trying to motivate myself to keep working on.

First up there's my first foray into HellCheer, which can best be summed up as "I'm normally not a fan of cheating, but if Chrissy and Eddie were sneaking around behind Jason's back it'd be pretty hot, right?"

"Just don't be late for practice," Debbie says. "You know we're running the pyramid today." "I know!" Chrissy replies, already moving the other direction. "I'll just be a minute!" She hurries back down the hallway, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her friends have moved on, and then ducks quickly into the auditorium.  It's quiet and dimly lit. There's a certain strangeness to walking into an empty theater, the stage dark, each sound seeming amplified in the quiet of so large a space. Chrissy walks quickly down the side aisle and up onto the stage. Even in tennis shoes, her feet still echo dully on the wooden steps. Backstage, she navigates her way to the prop room and looks around. "Well, well, well," comes a voice right behind her shoulder, making her hop and squeak. "What could possibly bring the likes of Chrissy Cunningham, head cheerleader, all the way down to my domain?" She relaxes and smiles. "Hi, Eddie," she says sweetly. "She knows my name!" Eddie says with faux surprise as his hands slide around her waist with practiced familiarity. "Oh, I feel special. You noticed me from all the way up in your princess tower, huh?" She giggles softly at the familiar bit and leans back into him. "If I'm a princess," she says as she bares her neck to him, "does that make you my knight in shining armor?" Eddie hums in disagreement, his lips and jaw vibrating against her throat. "No, that doesn't sound like me at all. I'm no shiny hero, I'm the big, scary dragon. Stealing you away from home and hoarding you for myself."

Then I return to, ahem, Steddie ground with the touring bands AU that infected me when MCR and hard core logo crossed my dash at the same time. Robin and Steve have whatever the corollary of "stage gay" is for a lesbian and her emotional support himbo. And Eddie gets confused about it:

And then there's the bass player. Eddie can't get a good look at his face, not with the way he's bowing his head as he gives his entire focus to the four strings beneath his fingers. His head nods along to the beat, and against all odds makes his unkempt, greasy hair look unfairly attractive even as droplets of sweat visibly go flying with each shake of his head. His plain white shirt has the sleeves cut off, along with a good portion of the shirt's sides, and his jeans are tight enough to show off his ass and thighs.

He doesn't stay in any one place for long, roaming the stage aimlessly as he plays and checking in with his bandmates when he draws near. Dustin grins at him as he steps up onto the drum platform and tries to shout something over the music, Erica hip-checks him out of her space and sends him spinning away. She shakes her head like she's annoyed by the intrusion, but she watches him go with a not quite successfully suppressed smile. There's a playful fondness to the interactions, a sibling-like camaraderie.

That's not remotely what it feels like when the bassist reaches the singer. There's an intensity in how he approaches her, an almost magnetic draw. When he reaches her he doesn't check in like he did with Dustin and Erica. Instead, he presses the crown of his head between her shoulder blades until she takes a stumbling step forward. She leans back against him, letting his head support her as she continues to sing. She smiles fondly around the lyrics and reaches a hand back to scritch at the back of his head like he's a beloved pet begging for attention. His hair falls to cover most of his face, but Eddie can make out his mouth, which hangs open loosely while he breathes heavily through red lips shining with spit and sweat.

In a practiced move, she lifts her arm and he ducks under just in time for a harmony, their heads pressed close together and their mouths barely avoiding each other as they sing into the same mic. The singer keeps an arm looped around his neck, her hand pressing possessively to the top of his sternum as he slouches against her to match her height, and holds him close even as she returns to singing alone, and he melts into her without ever once stumbling in his rhythm. 

Eddie's seen stage chemistry before, but this is something else. It's like they have their own gravity centered on one another. Absurdly, Eddie feels the faintest coil of jealousy as he watches them. He beats the feeling back, because immediately developing a crush on a straight guy (who is obviously madly in love with his singer) before he's even seen his face is too much even for Eddie. And honestly, it's not really even him Eddie feels jealousy over, it's that connection. He loves his bandmates, but he's very much the leader of the group. He craves the kind of partnership these two have.

The singer pulls her bassist close and smacks a big kiss to his temple before shoving him away toward his own corner of the stage, but their eyes stay locked as he retreats and she continues to sing. They look like they're having a silent conversation, even as they continue to play and sing.

The song ends, and before the last note has faded Erica playfully whines into her own mic, "Ewwww! Robin kissed a boy!"

And I can't forget my favorite firefighting blorbos and the Practical Magic Buddie AU. Sorry, there's no actual Buddie in this snippet. Just Eddie and his abuela.

Isabel tuts and reaches for his hand. “Mijito, I have watched you grow from the day you were born. I know you better than you know yourself. And I have hated watching you hide from the world, shutting yourself off from the very things that make life worth living out of fear. I thought, when I saw you together at your wedding, that if you weren’t going to let yourself marry someone you loved I could at least help you love the person you married.” Eddie shakes his head. A renewed wave of grief lodges in his throat and stings at his eyes. “You shouldn’t have - if I never loved her, she would still be here. Christopher would still have his mother, I would still have my partner. Why would you cast that spell knowing that she would die?” Regret washes over Isabel’s features. “I never thought the curse would take her,” she tells Eddie softly, “because it wasn’t real.” Her words hit him like a sucker punch.  “But it was,” he protests, his voice cracking. “It was real for me - for us. It was messy and difficult, and we fought way too much, but,” he pauses for a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to swallow back the tightness gripping his throat, “I really did love her, Abuelita. I loved her so much, and I just want her back.” “Oh, cariño,” Isabel says, wrapping her arms back around Eddie and pulling him close. She holds him as his shoulders shake with helpless sobs, and runs a soothing hand through his hair like she always did when he was a little boy. “You will be alright, Eddito,” she promises softly. “Somehow, we always are.”

So that's a small snapshot at how my drafts folder is looking. I'm gonna tag @onyxmoonstone @machtaholic @piratefalls and anyone who hasn't been tagged but wants to share.

[legendofzoodles]

https://at.tumblr.com/legendofzoodles/lu-deepest-fear-headcanons-2/8rz4zjlq8qfu

Concept: botw Link really liked water, from spending time in Zora’s Domain as a child.

But now, he cannot stand fully submerging himself, because it reminds him of being submerged in the shrine of resurrection.

Thanks for responding that's such a cool idea! Plus you encouraged me to look back on some of my old posts and write this. :)

~~~

Waterlogged 

The wooden ladle turned practiced circles around the cast iron pot, occasionally scraping the bottom as it swirled and stirred a delicious amber broth until every ingredient sang together. Although appetizing, as any soup could be prepared by his hands, it would be amiss for Wild to proclaim its shallow murkiness to the perfectly clear lake before him. The vista of small waterfalls churning out endless replenishing streams, did little to taint the crystal like body of water they fed into. 

Although, it’s transparency was too quickly muddied as a chorus of flailing arms drummed up sediment and sand from the lakebed to gather around frantic bobbing heads. Wind was showing them a pirate game, using an inflatable ball that of course Legend just so happened to have stashed somewhere in his bottomless stash of junk. What started as a curious new way to pass the time soon morphed into a two-teamed mess of a sport, if one could call it that. Tetra’s crew would have been impressed with the amount of rule breaking. 

Even the prissy Captain and stick-up-his-ass Rancher joined in. Surprisingly they were the two dirtiest cheats, childishly bending the rules to give his team an advantage only to feign innocence when the other caught him out on it. 

‘Looks fun’, Wild mused, watching the sailor mediate another ‘out of bounds’ argument between Sky and Four. Smiles adorning their faces. 

Time looked on from a shady patch near the bank, arms crossed and two-handed blade ‘at the ready’ under the guise of keeping watch. But they knew better. 

He too, seeing Wild frequently take pause from his soup to watch the game, knew better than to wrongly assume he didn’t want to join in. However, when he got up and walked over to him the champion shook his head before he could say a word. 

“Go on.” The old man slightly tilted his head in their direction, quietly disarming Wild of his ladle. “You deserve a break.”

He wasn’t given an option to get it back. Unwilling to leave yet and not knowing what to do with his hands he awkwardly folded them, letting his feet shuffle on the spot as his eyes wandered back to the others. “That looks pretty tiring to me.” 

Time started stirring the soup, copying Wild’s technique near perfectly. “It’s little more than floating. Besides, someone needs to add some civility to that game.”

Wild smirked, sucking in air through his teeth in a mock gasp. “You’re asking me?”

“You seem quite eager to join them.”

“No.” A sigh. “Just...it looks kinda familiar, I guess, maybe.”

The steady rhythm of Time’s stirring faulted and the man trained his eyes on that of Wild’s, waiting for that distinctive spaced out look. “Everything alright...?

It didn’t come. “Yeah yeah, fine,” Wild affirmed. A pause, his body still for the briefest moment. Then, a final glance at the sparkling water sent unfolded arms to tug off his tunic. “You know what? They need another player so they have even teams.” Catching Time’s smile he threw off the rest of his layers, swaths of mismatched blues and tans were cast into the air as his guided him towards the bank, leaving a pile of mess behind him. 

The water was much cooler than anticipated, sending fleeting trails of ice up through his veins with every step forward, each smaller than the last. Cold lingered within his chest, settling like frost, his breathing turned shallower and shallower as his body was further encased in the deepening pool. Until...he was rather unceremoniously submerged. 

Wild’s entrance was welcomed by a score of cheers and light splashes that his bobbing head almost flinched away from, just barely, feet eventually lifting off the waterbed.  

Adept limbs flowed with well practiced fluidity, the movement helping warm them. He didn’t need to hear the rules, whether that was because he’d been paying attention while spectating or deep down it was too similar to a game he played as a child, he couldn’t tell. 

Wind bounced the ball towards him, it flew up and hid in the sun’s blinding light before coming back down as an inflated octo balloon. By reflex Wild’s muscles tensed and his arm jerked to attention, batting it away to have it land into the scaly arms of a Zora. He couldn’t put a name to the blurry face when they were abruptly shoved under the water by another, then another, then another. 

Rarely, memories came and went in small bursts like this. Never any less welcome but easier to ride out, for his mind allowed the body to move and allowed him to almost act out the memory as it happened. He remembered this game and it was stupid, a dumb excuse to goof off with the Zora guards- these figures looked vaguely like them. 

Their mock battle for the balloon continued, coloured fins churning up the water in the scramble, and a smile split Wild’s cheeks though confusion stained his expression. Choking up a laugh his hand waved away at nothing, as if it would make the vision fade. 

However it did, quite suddenly in fact, when a scaly mass was thrown against his side, another faceless Zora crashed into him. Suddenly forced underwater, the volley of hues were lost into a growing murky night sky filled with dots of light breaking through plumes of granite dust stirred up from below. Falling further still, those strange stars grew bigger, bleeding together until he saw blue again in circular lights. Familiar circular lights. 

Suddenly, more blue, darker in hue and crueler in the way hands them held him down. Dense fluid squeezed in from very direction onto every, pressing down with the weight of a kingdom. His limbs became rigid. Paralysed. He was floating yet he felt so trapped, eyes wide as they stared helplessly towards the lights. 

They stared back, waiting for him above the surface.   

Desperate, a cry escapes past quivering lips and what’s left of his breath escapes with it in a cluster of bubbles. A burst of sound through the dissonance of swishing muffled ambience shutting him away in this dark basin again. Now the watery coffin that staged his brush with death. 

His mind slips and the light fades...

...dimmer

...dimmer

...dimmer

...how long until he wakes up?

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

Trying to convey Wild’s love-hate relationship with water was hard and it got a little too abstract at the end but I’m fairly happy with it. Thank you for the ask anon! :))

p.s. I realised too late that instead of a ball game in a lake they should have been surfing at the beach. Then I could have called the fic ‘Waterboarding’, get it? Cuz he’d be water boarding and then get waterboarded. I know waterboarding drowns the person with a soaked cloth, but he’s drowning so...it kinda works right? Still, messed up tho.