#fat dragons more fat dragons give them chubby cheeks

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

dragons should be chubby. must i elucidate or do u understand my vision

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie x Henderson Cousin!Single Mom!Reader Collaboration with @corroded-hellfire 💚

Summary: After your mom kicks you out for having a baby, you move back to Hawkins to live with your cousin Dustin and Aunt Claudia. You've always been able to manage on your own, so when your childhood friend Eddie offers to help, it isn't easy to let someone take care of you.

WC: 4.8k

A/N: This was requested by our amazing friend and fellow sister wife, @b-irock! We hope we did it justice.

Also, Reader's race/ethnicity is never mentioned or described. Though she is Henderson Cousin!Reader, she can be interpreted as either a biological or adopted cousin.

--

Hawkins, Indiana: 1976

You’re standing underneath the monkey bars, hoisting your five-year-old cousin so his chubby hands can grab on to them. 

“C’mon, Dusty! You can do it!” You cheer him on. “Just put one hand in front of the other; I’ve got your feet.”

Sure enough, he grunts and grumbles, but little Dustin eventually makes his way across the equipment while you grip his dangling legs. 

“I did it! I did the monkey bars!” He cheers when he reaches the other side. “Can we do it again?”

You’re about to begrudgingly agree when you hear commotion from across the playground. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the sandbox, where a curly-haired boy sitting with a shovel and a castle-shaped bucket; a blonde boy, smaller than him, stands intimidatingly over him. 

“Jason, stop!” The curly-haired kid calls out. 

The blonde kid—Jason, you surmise—simply sneers. “Jason, stop!” he taunts, voice absurdly high-pitched. He laughs when the other boy’s lower lip wobbles. “What’s the matter, Freak? You gonna go cry to your mommy—sorry, your uncle?” And with that, Jason steps on the castle, crushing it beneath his sneakered foot. 

You bring Dustin back to the ground before marching over to the scene of the squabble. “What are you doing?” you demand to know, staring right at Jason and crossing your arms over your chest. 

Jason doesn’t answer, posing a question of his own. “Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you bite back. “You must be really boring if you have to spend your time picking on people, huh?” Before he can respond, you take a few more steps towards him. “Here, let me make things more exciting for you.” You pull back your leg, kicking up a spray of sand into his blue eyes with a triumphant smirk.  

Jason howls, crying as soon as he feels the tiny granules hit his face. “Owww!” he blubbers, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. He tries to run away, but his eyes are still closed, so he trips and falls over the edge of the sandbox.

“Now look who’s crying for his mommy!” You call out as he picks himself up and traipses across the grass. You can hear the other kid giggle, and you turn back to him. “You okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, ‘m okay now.” He picks up his shovel and starts digging again. “I’m Eddie. Y’wanna play with me?”

You introduce yourself and gladly accept his invitation, calling your cousin over so he can join. Eddie doesn’t seem the least bit upset about playing with a five-year-old; he spends most of the time crafting elaborate stories about the brave knights and dragons guards that live in the castles he’s building. The three of you play until the sun begins to set, signaling that it’s time to return home. 

“Come back tomorrow and we can keep playing, okay?” Eddie says as you all part ways. 

“We’ll be here!”

That’s how you made your first friend in Hawkins. 

Not only did you come back the next day, but you went to the park as often as you could to play with Eddie. Sometimes Dustin would join you or sometimes you’d just ride to the park on your bike yourself. After the fifth time the two of you had spent playing in the sandbox and on the playground, Eddie comes up with a question for you.

“Every time you come here you have pigtails. Why?”

“Huh?” You frown and turn your head from side to side as if that would give you a better view of the hair on the sides of your head. “Oh, I dunno. They’re easy and they keep my hair out of the way while we play.”

“I’m gonna call you Pigtails,” Eddie tells you, a proud smile on his cherubic face. 

“I’m still gonna call you Eddie.”

Eddie laughs and there’s a buzzy feeling in your stomach that you’ve never felt before. 

You became great friends with Eddie. Not just at the park, but you started biking to one another’s houses, eating lunch together at school, and even having pretend adventures in the lush woods of Hawkins. But one day when you were thirteen, you had to tell Eddie that you were moving away because your parents are getting a divorce. He was sympathetic to the pain you were going through, but devastated at the fact that you wouldn’t be there for him to spend time with anymore. His favorite part of the day is seeing you and he feels like it’s being ripped away from him like a stubborn sticky bandaid. 

Your new town wasn’t a bad place to live. You had nice neighbors, made friends easily at school, and noticed how much happier your mom was. But there was no Eddie. 

Hawkins, Indiana: 1986

Ten years later, Hawkins becomes your home again. Having your mom and stepdad kick you out of the house wasn’t great, but you didn’t want to be there if they were going to treat you like shit anyway. Just because you have a son now, they’ve decided they want nothing to do with you.

“What will people say?” Your mom often wondered aloud. As if strangers' comments mean more to her than her own daughter and grandson. 

Hawkins is a better environment to raise Jett up in, anyway. Better schools, nicer town, friendlier people. Plus, it’s where your favorite aunt and cousin still live. Aunt Claudia welcomed you to come live with them with open arms. She was nothing but loving and kind and gracious. Dustin was excited to have a baby around—he’d never really interacted with any before. Your younger cousin, after making sure you knew he was truly psyched about you both coming to live with him, asked why you weren’t going to live with Jett’s father, though. You know it’s just an innocent question. Curiosity always gets the better of Dustin. It’s hard to think about, but you told him the truth; Byron is a total douche and wants nothing to do with having a son. 

You’re sitting in the rocking chair, feeding Jett his afternoon bottle, when there’s a knock at the door. Dustin’s on the phone with his long-distance girlfriend, Suzie, and Aunt Claudia’s at work, so it’s up to you to answer it. You throw the burp cloth over your shoulder and adjust your son so that his head is fully supported in the crook of your elbow. 

Peering through the peephole, you see a tall, lanky man standing in front of the door. He’s got a shopping bag in one hand and he’s tapping his Reebok-clad foot against the floor. 

His hair is much longer than the last time you saw him, and a five o’clock shadow covers his cheeks, but you’d still recognize him anywhere. 

“Eddie?!” you ask excitedly as you use your free hand to open the door. Despite your exhaustion, a huge grin tugs at your lips. 

His soft brown eyes light up. “Holy shit, Pigtails! Dustin told me you were coming back, but I didn’t realize you were already here” He looks down at the blanket-swaddled bundle in your arms. “Is this…”

You nod. “This hungry little guy is Jett Henderson,” you announce proudly, bouncing gently to keep your son in good spirits. “Named after the badass Joan Jett, of course.”

“Grunge girl, huh?” Eddie cocks his brow and smiles, offering Jett his ringed pinky, which he readily grips on to. “Hold on, I have something in my van for you.”

Before you can ask questions, he’s bolting out to his car, returning with something clutched in his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t get to wrap it…” he mumbles, but you just shake your head and take it from him. 

It’s a tiny onesie, the white Metallica logo printed on black cotton. You feel your eyes well up with tears, already overcome with emotion at the sight of your old friend, and now he brings you a gift?

“This is…you didn’t have to…” you choke out. You lightly bounce Jett, though you’re not entirely sure whether you’re comforting him or yourself. 

“‘Course.” Eddie smiles, letting the baby hold his finger again as he muses, “I can’t believe my Pigtails is a mom.”

My Pigtails. The descriptor in front of your nickname makes all the difference, though you try not to let it show. 

“Eddie! You’re here! Did you bring the DM—” Dustin loudly calls from behind you, startling both you and Jett. Your baby boy immediately starts wailing; it’s quite an impressive feat for someone with such tiny lungs. Dustin cringes when he realizes his mistake. “Shit, I’m sorry—”

You shake your head “‘S okay,” you mumble, speed walking towards the spare room you and Jett share to try and stop his cries. It most certainly is not okay, but you don’t want your cousin to feel guilty. He and Aunt Claudia have already helped so much by taking you in. The last thing you need is to alienate them. 

There’s a gentle rap at the door, and you murmur, “Come in.” You assume it’s Dustin, but Eddie stands there instead. 

“Hey, Pigtails? And Jett?” he starts timidly, looking at the screaming infant in your arms. “Would you both wanna hang out tomorrow? Go to the playground or somethin’?”

No, you want to shout. No, we don’t need your pity; we’re doing fine, just the two of us. But there’s a hopeful look in Eddie’s bright eyes that makes him impossible to refuse. “Y-Yeah, sure. Ten o’clock?”

Eddie furrows his brow. “Kinda late for a baby to be awake, right? Plus, those no-good teenagers always cause mischief at night in that park.”

You laugh. “Ten o’clock in the morning,” you tell him. “Think you can get up that early?”

“For you two? Of course.”

Eddie knocks on the door at 9:45. You’ve been up for hours by this point, but from Eddie’s bleary eyes and the coffee cup clutched in his hand, you’d venture that he hadn’t been awake all that long.

“Good morning, stranger,” you greet him. “Look at you up and about before the crack of noon.”

“I’d flip you off if I couldn’t see that I’m being watched by an infant.” Eddie nods his head behind you and you look over your shoulder to see Jett in his baby swing, swaying gently from side to side as he watches Eddie with eyes more alert than your friend’s. 

“Yeah, and he’s a snitch,” you say, turning back to face Eddie. “He’ll rat ya out first chance he gets.”

“I’ll have to stay on his good side then.”

“What’s up, Eds?” You side step so Eddie can come inside, which he does as he takes the last swig of his coffee. 

“Thought I’d come by and give you guys a ride to the park,” he says.

There’s a giggle on the tip of your tongue and you have to bite your lip to keep a smile at bay. Eddie has always been one of the sweetest people you know. It’s no surprise that he was thoughtful enough to pick you and Jett up. There was just one little problem.

“I really appreciate that, Eddie.” You pick your keys up off of the counter and toss them to the sleepy man. He manages to catch them despite fumbling them twice. “But you’ll have to give us a ride in my car because I don’t think your van has the appropriate equipment to secure a car seat to.”

Eddie hangs his head, making some of his curls sway from side to side. Now, you do let out that giggle. With a sigh, Eddie picks his head back up.

“Duh. Gotta make sure your mini me is safe.”

“My mini me?” you ask as you unbuckle Jett from his swing. He whines in protest, his swing being his favorite thing in the world. But once you begin to walk, the calming motions quiet him again. 

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says. “He looks just like you. Look at him, he’s gorgeous.”

You’re not sure if Eddie realizes what he implied or not, so you don’t say anything, just hum to yourself as you slip the strap of Jett’s diaper bag over your shoulder.

“Here, let me get that.” Eddie swoops in and takes the bulky bag from you, hefting it onto his own shoulder. “Christ, what the hell did you put in here? Rocks?”

“Diapers, wipes, spare clothes, bottles, burping cloths, pacifiers—”

“Jesus,” Eddie cuts you off. “That’s more than I’d need for a week’s vacation.”

“Not all of us can turn our underwear inside out and wear them for a second day, Eddie.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, exasperation dripping in his tone. “You’re never going to let that go, are you? I was eleven and I didn’t bring enough pairs on the camping trip. I regret ever telling you that.”

You let out a giggle that has Eddie practically swooning as you reach your car. The gentleman that he is, Eddie opens the back door for you so you can situate Jett in his seat. In a less gentlemanly fashion, he stares at your ass as you’re bent over into the car. 

The drive to the park is quick, even with Eddie “slowing down” because there’s precious cargo in the car. It’s still faster than you would’ve gone, but it was a definite improvement for him. The park is mostly empty when you arrive. A few ladies are speed walking in velour tracksuits, there’s a dad trying to help his son fly a kite, and there are two other parents with their small children on the playground. The sun is bright so you slip a little ball cap on your son. It’s one Dustin bought for him, a perfect miniature version of one of the many hats he wore over his curly locks. 

“Have you ever brought him here before?” Eddie asks as the two of you make your way towards the swings. 

“No. He hasn’t seen a whole lot of Hawkins, to be honest.”

“You’re not missing much, buddy,” Eddie tells him. 

There are two baby seats on the long swing set and you tuck Jett into one with his blue and white blanket around him for extra cushion and protection. Your son looks up at you with what you take to be an unimpressed glare. 

“Don’t look at me all grumpy, mister,” you say to him. “You don’t even know what these things can do.”

Jett lets a few drool bubbles spew from his mouth in response. Eddie chuckles as you playfully roll your eyes at the boy. Jett slides his stare from you to Eddie, and it seems like he locks in on your friend. Eddie gives him a little wave, but the infant just keeps on staring.

“Maybe he likes my hair,” Eddie suggests.

“Maybe he just likes you. Hard to imagine, I know,” you tease. Eddie starts to make silly faces at your son, and a smile tugs up the corners of his little precious mouth. Jett seems enamored with Eddie and you can hardly say you blame him. “Do you want to push him, Eddie?”

“Huh?” Eddie ceases his goofy faces and looks back at you.

“The swing,” you say, gesturing towards your son in the seat. “Do you want to push him?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. As long as you don’t mind.”

“I’m the one who suggested it,” you remind him with a playful smirk. He gives you a teasing shove before walking behind the swing set. 

It’s the most apprehensive you can ever remember seeing Eddie. The concentration on his face makes it look like he’s doing the physics in his head of how hard he should push the swing based on Jett’s body weight and the current speed of the wind. Finally, he gives the swing a small push and your son begins to rock back and forth.

Jett looks a little alarmed to be moving at first, but he quickly realizes this is the same sensation as his swing at home, just front and back instead of side to side. It makes you strangely emotional to watch Eddie push your baby on the swings. It’s a surreal thing. Sometimes it seems like you had two lives; one before you left Hawkins and one after. This is the collision of those two worlds—and the very best parts of those respective worlds, too. 

“Does he like it?” Eddie asks you.

“Jett,” you say, bending down to be closer to his eye level. “Are you enjoying yourself? Is Eddie doing a good job? Or do you want me to fire him?”

“Ha ha, you’re so fucking funny,” Eddie deadpans.

“Hey,” you tease with a smile. “Watch your goddamn language around my kid, you motherfucker.”

Well shit, you think to yourself. I want him to be a motherfucker if the mother he’s fucking is me. 

“You hear the mouth on your mom, Jett?” Eddie asks. “You’d think she grew up with some trailer park trash kid as one of her best friends.”

“Hey,” you say, tone turning serious. “You’re not—”

“I know,” Eddie cuts you off, giving you a shit eating grin. “Just wanted to get a reaction out of you.”

“Like the time you told me that Shaun Cassidy was quitting music for good and almost gave me a heart attack?”

“Exactly like that.” The devious smile on his face should be annoying, but it’s somehow sexy. “I hope you have some better taste in music now.”

“Oh yeah, my taste in music has definitely matured. Once you become a mom, you automatically start loving all the oldies. That’s something they never tell ya about until you get pregnant.”

“I’ll loan you Wayne’s Elvis records,” Eddie quips.

“You assume I don’t already have my own,” you joke. 

“Jesus,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I’m the only hope poor Jett has at growing up with a sense of what good music is.” 

“Do not infect my child with Metallica.” You like Metallica, but wanting to get a rise out of one another isn’t a trait exclusive to Eddie. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells Jett as he gives him another push. “I got your back, kid.”

Eddie’s offer to have Jett’s back is put to the test on the ride home. The little boy is less than enthused to leave the playground and, combined with his missed naptime, begins wailing at the top of his lungs as soon as he’s buckled into his carseat. 

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, trying to maneuver the straps around Jett’s shoulders as he writhes and wriggles. “It’s okay, baby. I know, you’re so sad, but it’s okay.” Though you keep your voice as even as possible, you might as well be shouting with the way he’s screeching. 

“Let me try something,” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s at Jett’s level. He clears his throat and begins to sing. 

Baby, let me be

Your lovin’ teddy bear

Put a chain around my neck

And lead me anywhere

Oh, let me be…your teddy bear

Jett’s cries stall a bit, though his sniffles are like aftershocks rippling through his body. 

“Keep going,” you whisper, and Eddie nods. 

I don’t wanna be a tiger

Because tigers play too rough

I don’t wanna be a lion

Cause lions ain’t the kind you love enough

At the last line, he reaches out and tickles Jett’s pudgy tummy, and your heart soars with relief as your son giggles. 

“Y’like when I sing, huh?” Eddie laughs along with him, standing up and facing you with a grin. “Another point for Team Eddie.”

You muster up a smile and slide into the passenger seat while Eddie starts the car. Why was it so easy for him to calm Jett down, but it takes me forever? Am I a bad mom? The thought gnaws at you the whole ride home, and when Eddie drops you back off, you grab Jett and dash through the front door before the tears can fall. 

The next day, Eddie approaches your front door hesitantly. Yesterday when he’d come by, you were in a good mood and eager to head to the park. But after the way you left the car with Jett and didn’t say two words to him before going into the house, Eddie’s not too sure what’s going on. He pokes the doorbell with a ring-clad finger and waits as he hears shuffling footsteps on the other side.

“Oh, hi, Eddie.” 

His relief was palpable when you don’t seem upset at him for anything, but he’s as equally concerned because he’s sure he’s never seen you this disheveled before. Hair pulled back from your face, an oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants, and large dark circles under your eyes. To him, you still look absolutely beautiful, but he is also aware that these are signals of exhaustion. 

“Christ, Pigtails. You look exhausted.”

“Thanks, Munson,” you mumble. “You really know how to flatter a girl.”

Eddie shakes his head as you step aside to let him in. He’s about to tell you that’s not what he meant, but despite your tiredness, there’s a playful glint in your eye that lets him know you’re just teasing him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says. “Here, give me Jett so you can go nap. Is he in his swing?”

“No, m’fine, Eds.” You take a step forward but your body decides to be a traitor and show just how exhausted you are by having your knee buckle. Eddie’s right there to catch you, gripping you tightly and righting you on your feet.

“You were saying?” Eddie strolls over to where your son is laying on his playmat on the floor, legs kicking in excitement when he sees him. Carefully, Eddie picks up the baby and holds him against his chest. “Come on, Pigtails, you need to rest. Jett looks pretty eager to spend time with his favorite uncle anyway.” As if trying to prove, or disprove his point—Eddie isn’t sure which it is—Jett dribbles some drool on the shoulder of Eddie’s gray Iron Maiden tee. 

You want to protest further, but you don’t have the energy for it. “Fine. Only let me sleep for half an hour, okay? And if he starts crying or making a fuss, wake me up.”

“I’ve got it taken care of,” Eddie assures you. “Don’t worry.”

The words do nothing to calm your nerves more than telling someone to stop crying would make their waterworks cease. 

“Have you ever watched a baby before?” you ask. 

Eddie tilts his head from side to side, as if considering your question. “Well, no, but I watch over Dustin and his friends all the time and I think that’s prepped me for any possible scenario here.” 

“Well,” you say with a sigh, running one hand over your face. “I let Mike watch him while I ran to the neighbor’s house yesterday, and that scared me more than this does. Just don’t be afraid to wake me up, okay? Even if you think it’s something stupid.”

“We’ll be fine,” Eddie assures you, smacking a wet kiss to Jett’s cheek. “Go ahead, Jett—tell Mommy that we’ve got it all under control.” Jett, of course, says nothing, and Eddie shrugs. “He, uh, pleads the fifth, I guess. Seriously, go rest.”

“Thirty minutes,” you sternly remind him, and he gives you a little salute as you walk to your room. All of your nerves are swimming in your stomach; it feels wrong not to have your baby right by your side. What’s left of your rational brain reminds you that Eddie is capable of watching him, and he’ll wake you up if there’s an emergency. The sleepiness overtakes you. Just half an hour, you reassure yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavy, your exhausted body sinking into the mattress…

When you open your eyes again, you feel refreshed. Too refreshed for a measly thirty minute rest. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when your glimpse of the clock informs you that you’d been asleep for over two hours. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” you grumble, wiping the sleep from your vision. Why didn’t Eddie wake me up? you silently wonder as you pad towards your door. Oh my God, did something happen to Jett? Is he hurt? Sick? Are they at the hospital? Why wouldn’t he tell me if something was wrong?

You’re about to call out his name when you spot something on the floor. It’s a trail of Polaroid photos leading out to living room. The first one shows Jett grinning at the camera, orange baby food smeared over his face. The caption at the bottom reads, “Don’t worry, Mama! Eddie’s got this!” 

The next one is just Eddie in his black Metallica shirt, arm outstretched to take the photo, and Jett in his matching onesie. Then there’s Jett with his hand in a gigantic bowl of popcorn—bigger than him—with the TV remote laying on the other side of him. 

Eddie and Jett are having a staring contest in the following picture; Eddie’s deep concentration is juxtaposed by Jett’s absolute cluelessness. “Baby’s first staring contest—he won” is written in Eddie’s messy scrawl. There’s a few more of Eddie mimicking your son’s adorable facial expressions, though your favorite is when they’re both showing off a wide, open-mouthed smile. 

You pick up another one; it’s your son wearing Dustin’s Camp Know Where hat, D&D manuals strewn around him. “Planning the next sadistic campaign for Uncle Dusty.” Then another from your cousin’s room where Jett is sitting on his cluttered floor, lightsaber in hand. 

Jett wearing sunglasses. Jett with a battered copy of The Hobbit—probably Eddie’s own copy—opening it and looking at it as though he’s actually reading. Jett’s hands tangled in Eddie’s curls while he grimaces to pretend that it hurts (at least, you hope he’s pretending; your son has an iron grip these days). Jett holding a pen to Eddie’s arm mid-scribble, as if he’s giving him another tattoo. This one is right above the litter of bats, and you have a feeling the newest addition is Eddie’s favorite. 

The last Polaroid before you reach the living room is of Jett sitting in the driver’s seat of Eddie’s van with his hands on the steering wheel. “Ready to hit the road!” You giggle, tears welling in your eyes at the relief that Jett is okay and from the sheer joy of seeing him so happy. 

The sound of Eddie talking to Jett interrupts your thoughts, and you crane your neck to listen. 

“And then she totally kicked sand in that little punk’s eyes! It was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Shit, don’t say ‘ass.’ And don’t say ‘shit.’ But, anyway, she’s always looked out for the people she cares about. I’m not surprised that she’s basically the world’s best mom. Pretty cute, too. Always kinda had a little crush on her.” He whispers that last part, but you still hear it. 

Slowly, as not to interrupt their moment, you ease your way into the living room from the hall. Jett’s the first one to see you, over Eddie’s shoulder, and his face lights up in glee. It’ll never get old to you how excited your son gets just by seeing your face. Eddie looks over his shoulder to see what the baby is looking at, but does a double take when he sees you standing there.

“O-Oh,” he stutters. “Hey, you’re awake. How was your, uh, nap?” There’s a pink tinge to his cheeks as he stands up, hoisting Jett up onto his hip. 

“Was good,” you say. “Longer than a half hour, though.” You raise a challenging eyebrow at him as you walk forward to scoop your son out of his arms. 

“Sorry, I just thought—”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure him. “I saw your little photo shoot. Looks like you two had fun together.” Jett babbles happily in your arms as you bring him over to his playpen. All of his favorite toys are in there so he should be fine on his own for a few moments. 

“We had lots of fun, didn’t we Jett?”

The words barely leave his mouth before your lips are on his. Eddie’s stiff against your skin, clearly not having expected it. It’s not long before he sinks into it though; cupping your cheeks in his hands and deepening the kiss. 

When you pull away for air, Eddie rests his forehead against yours. You take the moment to notice how beautiful he is this close up. The freckles, his dark eyelashes, his dimples. He’s just as beautiful as when you first developed a crush on him all those years ago.

“It’s always been you, Eds,” you speak softly against his mouth. The grin that grows on Eddie’s face is euphoric and more than a little contagious. 

“Pigtails, I’ve been waiting ten years to hear you say that.” 

--

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 30 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Rhaenyra and the rest of her brood return to King's Landing for the first time in years. Aegon has a heart-to-heart with his least favourate person in the world. Word Count: 4976 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, mentions of bullying. Very little Valeana in this chapter, sry sry. But Aegon 👀

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT BOTTOM OF CHAPTER. Additionally, I'm not super proud of like 50% of this chapter. This is where my muse started to slip for me, so it's not my best work, and the next few chapters as well. I'm hoping to correct that by proof reading them, but mostly, the next 5 chapters are really me trying to move along the plot.

“Ohhh, I am going to miss these chubby cheeks,” Rhaenyra cooed in a high-pitched voice as she yanked little Valeana Celtigar and pulled her onto her lap. Nearly four years old, the girl was plump as she was adorable, filling Rhaenyra with an almost maternal level of cute aggression. Luke had just been born, another boy, where she yearned for a daughter. Valeana would fill that void until the Mother could grant her wish. 

“May I just have a bite? A wee nibble?” Rhaenyra mimicked a bite at the child’s cheeks, earning her a shriek of mirth. 

“Princess Nyra, no!!” Valeana giggled and wiggled in her grasp. 

The woman mock pouted, “But I won’t see you for weeks. What will I do without my little Valeana? Whose cheeks will I nibble now?” 

The little girl stuck her tongue out between her teeth, mischievous green eyes moving over the large man in the corner, his gold cloak making him stand out even more. “Ser Harwin’s.” 

Rhaenyra looked up at her sworn sword, who’s smile brightened, “Ser Harwin’s? But they are hidden under all that hair. It would taste awful.”

The knight chuckled, shaking his head. 

Valeana covered her face with her small hands, eyes peeking through her fingers, “But you can’t bite my cheeks, Nyra! I need’em!” 

“Oh, is that right? What for, my dear?”

The little girl’s face turned pink from hairline to chin, her eyes tightly closed as she buried her face into Rhaenyra’s soft belly. “Prince Aemond.”

“Prince Aemond?” Rhaenyra repeated, eyebrows turned upward.  

“He-he gives me kisses on’em, before we go to bed.”

Rhaenyra shared a look with Harwin, before looking down at the squirming girl on her lap, a fond smile pulled at her lips. “He does, does he?” 

Valeana nodded shyly, “I like Prince Aemond. He’s pretty, like you!”

“Oh!” Rhaenyra laughed, looking back at Harwin again, a broad entertained grin in place. The man simply chuckled louder, placing his hand over his mouth. “And have you told Aemond this?”

She shook her head, moving her face back into the shield of Rhaenyra’s belly once again, “Noooo… Prince Aegon will make fun of me.”

With a pout, the princess tried to move the girl so she could see her face, “And why on earth would he do that?” 

Valeana’s mouth was pulled into a frown, her green eyes wandering around the room while she tried to control the wobble of her lip, “He doesn’t like me. It’s ‘cause I’m not pretty, like you, or Aemond, or Helaena, or him, or Jacaerys or–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rhaenyra pulled her up so she was sitting properly in the cradle of her lap, and took her face between both of her hands. “I will have none of that. You are just as pretty, Valeana.” 

Though the little girl did not seem convinced. Her large eyes marbled into two glistening peridot gems, “A-Aegon says I’m too f-f-fat to be pretty, ‘n–’n only pretty girls muh-marry princes, and become prin-princess-esses.”

Rhaenyra pulled her into her chest, scoffing at her brother’s cruelty, “My brother is a fool. A blind fool, my darling. Do not listen to a thing he says… You are beautiful, just like your mother, Lysa.”

“R-really?” Valeana hiccuped. 

The princess nodded earnestly, “Of course. You are her very image, just ask Ser Harwin.”

Valeana craned her neck to look up at the knight, eyes puffy and watery, cheeks pink and tear stained, “Am-am I pre-pretty, Ser Harwin?”

The large man sauntered over before bending to his knee next to Rhaenyra, so he could level his eyes with the child. “You are so very pretty, Lady Valeana. Just like Lady Lysa, just like Princess Rhaenyra.” 

Valeana blushed heavily, scrunching up her nose and putting her small hands to cover her face, trying to lean away, suddenly very bashful. Alas, Rhaenyra had a grip on her, and at her darling little display of embarrassment, the princess laughed. 

“It’s those cheeks! They’re just like apples, wouldn’t you say, Ser Harwin?”

“Oh, the juiciest of apples!” 

“Care to take a nibble with me?”

“Of course!”

Valeana squealed as she tried to pull away, but it was too late. The princess and the knight planted their lips on both of her cheeks at the same time, squishing her face. When Harwin pulled away with a chortle, Rhaenyra just kept on kissing the girl’s cheeks, pinching and taking mock bites out of them, all the while Valeana giggled, screamed, and tried to scramble out of her grasp. 

Not long after, Lord Bartimos Celtigar had sauntered onto the terrace, his face stretching out in a fond smile at the sight of his daughter in the arms of the crown princess. 

“Oh, I’d hate to put an end to this lovely display of affection, but alas, Princess Rhaenyra, we are about to leave for the Isle. Ursula is about to give birth any day now.” 

The princes sighed disappointingly, “Of course, of course.” With Valeana still in her arms, she stood up and walked over to the Master of Coin, but before she handed her over, she turned to the little one in her arms and said firmly. “Now, remember what I told you.”

Valeana nodded, rubbing her chubby fist along her reddened cheeks. 

“And if anyone says otherwise, I will send them to Syrax, then they’ll be nothing but toast.” 

The girl giggled mischievously, “Prince Egg-on-Toast.” 

It had only been a day, and yet that was too long. The night he had spent with Valeana was seared into his memory, like a dream he could not stop thinking about. That night, after he released his spend all over her hand, they had cleaned up and laid back in the pillows. She curled up at his side, head laying on his chest as they both looked up at the stars in blissful silence. He didn’t want the night to end, but it eventually did when the sky started to pink along the horizon, and Valeana jolted awake at the realization of how long they had been there. 

In silence he escorted her back to her room, thanking the gods that Floris had not woken up with the looming dawn. At the entrance, he thanked her for an amazing night, and she responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, thanking him in return. 

Aegon spent the better part of that day in bed, fingers tracing the spot where she had kissed him, eyes closed as he reimagined her tits, her face, her hand around his cock. A smirk crawled upon his face then, when he recalled the moment he returned to his bedchambers, peeled off his clothes and noticed the dark stain on his breeches. Blood. 

That was why she did not want to go further. Aegon could have had her that night, had it not been for the Mother’s curse. The fact alone made him hard again, giving him no choice but to summon Hildy so early that morning. Her services aren’t quite done after all… at least for the next 3-5 days. 

Aegon was aware that Valeana would be with his nephew that afternoon, the thought of which drove him to near madness. He needed to see her again, to do it again, but he swallowed down his impatience, and instead went into the pavilions to distract himself. There he reunited with the Redwyne brothers and as a result, found himself in Catelyn’s company. 

He leaned into her ear, and whispered, “Your idea worked like a charm.”

This elated her, turning to him with a bright smile that was infectious, “It did?! Tell me everything.”

Aegon rocked on the balls of his feet innocently, hands clasped behind his back as he started to walk through the pavilions, forcing her to trail next to him. He hummed, a smile curling his lips, “I do not kiss and tell.”

She gasped, “You ki—” Cat cut herself off and cleared her throat, looking around the area to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. People were already watching them curiously, what with Aegon being a Prince, and Catelyn being not his usual company. “You kissed?” She repeated in a whisper. 

Well, no, Aegon realized. They hadn’t… He kissed other parts of her, and her own chaste one on his cheek still made the area warm and tingly. But the realization bothered him more than he thought it would. It was a fact he wished to rectify. 

In the end, he did not tell Catelyn exactly what happened, other than they had a lovely midnight snack and chat, where he made his heartfelt confessions, and she gifted him with a chance. 

One drink became several, as usually was the case, and his jovial time in the pavilions became a pleasant blur. By the time he got back to the Red Keep, it was already too late in the evening to call for Valeana. Besides, he was far too drunk to make any sort of good impression on her father. Aegon was aware that Bartimos already had a sour impression of him, and if he was going to marry Valeana, then he would have to – somehow – get on ol’ Barty’s good side. 

Aegon barely had his tunic off when his mother entered into his chambers, completely unannounced. She had a tendency to do that, particularly when she was contrite with him over something he wasn’t even aware that he had done. 

“Mother,” he threw his head back, too tired and too inebriated to coherently greet her properly. His hands rubbed his eyes before he regarded her through his exhaustion, “One of these days, your intrusions will be awarded by the unseemly sight of your son rutting into—”

“Enough!” Her face reddened, from anger or embarrassment over the mental image he had just painted, or likely both. “I had come to you this morning, but your guard told me you were occupied.”

Aegon smiled slyly, “Very.”

The queen scoffed at her son, turning sharply away as she rubbed her fingers to her temples. She paced around the room like that, only aggravating Aegon, who longed to be nude and in his bed. 

“Would you please just berate me already? It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

His mother finally stopped her pacing, moving her hands from her head to her hips, “What are your intentions with Lady Valeana?”

The bluntness and the seriousness of her tone was enough to sober him. Aegon wobbled back, as if a blow was made at him. To steady himself, he placed his forearm on the post of his bed, and leaned against it. 

“Did we not already have this conversation?” He peered at her in confusion. “You told me to stop pursuing her, threatened to chain me to my rooms, and I completely ignored you?”

“Aegon,” her tone was a force in its steadiness. Alicent strode over to him, and despite being shorter, it still felt like he was under her. Like he was still a child. “Tell me the truth, for once in your bloody life. What. Are. Your. Intentions?” 

Aegon’s mouth fell into a pout, his red rimmed eyes stared back at her like a reprimanded puppy. Alicent never swore, he would remember if she did. His mother had a knack for making polite words sound as lethal as a Valyrian steel blade. 

“To cour–” She did not allow him to finish. Alicent’s hand grabbed his face firmly under his jaw. 

“I said I want the truth of it! That girl is under the impression you are fond of her, but I know my son! She is the daughter of a noble house, not some common maid that you can use to exercise your depravities with!”

Aegon wretched his face away from her hand, his brows pulled downward in a twisted look of annoyance and outrage. The logical part in his brain does not blame his mother for reaching to the conclusion that he had ill intent, but what hurt the most was that she could not simply imagine Aegon actually being soft on a girl. That the very idea was improbable on every plain of existence, because Aegon simply could not feel with anything other than his dick. 

“I am fond of her!” He shouted, backing away from his mother. His frustration mixing with the alcohol in his veins created a boiling point; he was so fucking tired of his mother thinking so little of him. “And my intentions with Valeana Celtigar are pure. Why is that so fucking hard to believe?”

Alicent momentarily looked taken back by the intense sincerity of his voice, which cracked with emotion and exhaustion. The Queen shook her head, “You cannot attach yourself to that girl, Aegon. You know you are intended to marry your sister–”

Aegon scoffed loudly, throwing his head back, “Mother! Stop this! Father does not wish for me to marry Helaena, and we do not wish for it either! For once in your life can you just be happy for me?” 

The question had rendered Alicent speechless, if only for a prolonged moment. His mother’s eyes, wide, dark, glistened with unshed tears (of guilt or aggravation, he could not tell) as they darted between his desperate violet ones. 

“I cannot help but conclude,” she began to speak, her voice lower than before, almost delicate and methodical as if she was trying to soften a blow. “That you only fancy the girl because she belonged to your brother, and you know he wants her back. How can I be happy for one son, when it is at the expense of another?”

Aegon’s anger was quickly boiling over, evident by the reddening of his face and the trembling of his fingers. He longed to grab something and throw it at her, but instead he settled for taking a forceful step in his mother’s direction, and angrily pointed in the direction of Aemond’s quarters, “AEMOND DOES NOT DESERVE HER! He does not deserve the happiness that she brings. He pushed her, mother, broke her fucking leg clean off, and then treats her like the scum of the earth, and yet you stand here and tell me that his happiness is more deserving than mine?!” 

“Aegon, that is not–”

“I will not hear it, mother! I will hear no more of it! I will not marry Helaena, and I will not be your fucking king! You and grandsire’s selfish ambition will ruin my life no longer. I will marry who I chose, and as soon as Valeana Celtigar is my wife, we will fly to the Free Cities, away from this bleeding place. Away from father, from Rhaenyra, from Aemond, from grandsire. Away from you!” 

With people from all four corners of Westeros collecting around King’s Landing, there was always a very audible chorus of gasps, claps, and some screams whenever dragons flew over the city. Even if it became somewhat of a common occurrence, with nearly all dragonlords in attendance for the Royal Conclave, and the looming presence of the Cannibal that had to be deterred every two to three days, the sight never got old for spectators. However, there was a particularly louder reaction the morning that Princess Rhaenyra arrived. 

Gone for many years, the heir to the Throne’s return was heavily anticipated. None knew if she was going to come at all after the tragedy of her daughter’s untimely death. But the Conclave was not the only thing that drove Rhaenyra back home; her duty to her sons was paramount, their marriages needed to be secured to good houses, and not only that… Vaemond Velaryon was going to petition to be the Heir of Driftmark, robbing Lucerys’ inheritance. The very inheritance that his grandfather wanted for him. But alas, the Sea Snake was not conscious, and he continued to toe the line between life and death. 

The golden Syrax glided over the ramparts and roofs of King’s Landing, followed by the smaller Moondancer, and lastly the large Meleys, the Red Queen. While they descended onto Rhaenys’ Hill and into the Dragonpit, ships bearing the black banners of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the turquoise colours of House Velaryon docked into the bay. 

The princess’ return was met with a grand reception on her way to the Keep. In the wheelhouse, the Princess sat with Rhaenys, Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon the Younger, and her little Viserys on her lap. Joffrey, at three and ten, had spent most of his formable years at Dragonstone, so his return to King’s Landing felt more like the first time. He peered through the carved peepholes that windowed the corners of the wheelhouse, marvelling at the people who showered them with flower petals, and waved black and red flags. There were some that were not so joyous, however. For every ten, there was one brave, mad man or woman who shouted ‘dragon whore’ through cupped hands, which Joffrey chose to ignore with a stiff swallow. 

Rhaenys was watching her cousin’s daughter closely throughout the ride. For years, she had strongly suspected that Rhaenyra and Daemon had a hand in Leanor’s murder. However, prior to their departure to the capitol, in Nyra’s desire for Rhaenys’ presence in King’s Landing, the younger princess had gifted her not only the truth, but an offer of betrothal between Rhaena and Lucerys. There was some doubt in Rhaenys’ mind that perhaps Nyra was simply placating her heart into believing her son was alive and happy somewhere across the narrow sea, because she needed the woman to advocate for her. Vaemond’s shadow loomed in the harbour, preparing himself for the petition for the inheritance of Driftmark, which would take place sometime past midday. Hardly enough time for a proper reunion amongst family and friends. 

Despite her doubts, however small or large, Rhaenys felt compelled to put her trust in her cousin’s hands. Her granddaughters were her blood, and she would much rather see one of them as Lady of Driftmark than her husband’s nephew. Though that alone isn’t all that steered her, but also the knowledge that Rhaenyra and Rhaenys walked the same path. They just ended up in different destinations. Rhaenys saw herself in the younger princess, had she been the Queen That Ever Was. 

When they arrived at the Keep, it was not in the Throne Room, but rather in the intimate Small Hall, which was vacant of even courtiers for the reunion. As soon as the crow princess entered, she immediately saw the new masonry, the new frescos, the new tapestries, where they once depicted dragons and scenes of Old Valyria and the Conqueror’s victories, now showed images of the Seven. She shared a look with Daemon as he approached her along with her two eldest. 

The princess swallowed her displeasure over the change of her home, but instead smiled when she reached her sons, placing a hand on each of their cheeks. 

“Have you two been behaving?” 

Luke grinned mischievously, “Better than most.”

Rhaenyra pinched his cheek for his sass, and then looked over at Jace, maternal seriousness now taking over. 

“And have you done what I’ve asked?”

Jace nodded, sucking in his bottom lip, “I have, mother. Though I wish to converse with you. There has been a…” He casted a look over at his brother, and then his step father. “Development.” 

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to inquire further, but it was at this time that King Viserys, Alicent, and her half siblings entered the room. Immediately, her spine went ram-rod straight, but her face was soft when she came into her father’s awaiting arms. 

While her conversation with her father was not forgotten, it was the moments of tenderness she spent with Alicent during her short visit to Dragonstone that also plagued Rhaenyra’s mind. Her mind was so heavy, and yet she still had the burden of mourning on her shoulders, as was evidenced by her black gown and the veil she had pinned to her braids. 

The dual kisses she shared with Alicent upon their cheeks was brief, polite, but full of unspoken emotion. Alicent looked at her with sympathy, seeing a mother still grieving, and a friend she had lost. Rhaenyra’s own eyes held longing for their youth, their past, and empathetic sadness for a betrayal that Alicent was not aware happened.

Her four half siblings were met with almost forced pleasantness. With Helaena, it was genuine, even going as far as thanking her for her attendance at Visenya’s funeral. With Aegon and Aemond, it was stiff. Despite Aegon being her first sibling, and therefore he had been in her life the longest, there was little to no sisterly devotion. He would always be a symbol of Alicent’s treachery to their friendship. But, still, she at least attempted. 

“My,” Rhaenyra placed her hands in front of her, “The last I saw of you two, you were boys, barely on the cusp of manhood. Now here you are, taller than your eldest sister.” 

Aegon smiled sardonically, his eyes glancing down at her wrist, “Glad to see your arm healed nicely, sister.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, twisting her lip before she looked up at Aemond, her tongue tied now that the elephant in the room was acknowledged. The last time she saw them was the day Aemond lost his eye, at the hands of her son. 

“Aemond,” her shoulders straightened as she looked up at him. His eye not afraid to hold her gaze, and she didn’t expect otherwise. He was the one made of stronger meddle, never allowing his emotions to breach his armour. Even when the accident happened, he stood strong for his mother, who had cracked so brilliantly under her grief. “It pleases me that you are doing well. I have heard you’ve been taking great care of Vhagar; she has chosen her rider well, it seems.”

She knew her words would wound her more fragile step-daughter, but it was the truth, and Rhaenyra sought to seek out peace with the brother she wronged the most. She loved Rhaena dearly, but she lacked the disposition for a beast like Vhagar. She might be the splitting image of her mother, Leana, but she did not have the same ferocity that it took to be a rider of Visenya Targaryen’s war-seasoned she-dragon. 

There was a ghost of a crooked smile on Aemond’s lip, though it was barely there to be noticeable by anyone else. He gave a nod of his head, and simply replied with: “Thank you, sister.”

Then there was the final brother, the one who she hadn’t met, who was, by all accounts, an actual stranger. And yet it was Daeron who greeted her with a smile wide and inviting, an infectious one that Rhaenyra reciprocated. 

“And who is this handsome young man before me?” She tilted her chin up at him, tall and gangly as he was. Daeron was toned and handsome, but still had yet to shed the softness of boyhood. 

“Sister!” Daeron all but launched himself into her arms, taking her off guard. Her hands hovered over his back, her eyes wide in her surprise. Aside from Helaena, Daeron was the second sibling she had ever hugged, and that thought brought up a sadness she had not realized she harboured. Her arms gently folded over his back, palm slowly moving up and down. “It is such a great pleasure to finally meet you at last, Rhaenyra.” 

When she pulled away, she could now see the resemblance she shared with him; their smile was similar, their eyes the same shade of violet. “It is a joy to see you too, Daeron. The last time I saw you, you were new to the world.”

Daeron bowed his head, and moved his hands to hold hers, “I wanted to give you my deepest condolences on your loss, sister. I cannot imagine your pain, but I have been praying to the Seven for you, hoping you may find peace.”

Rhaenyra gave him a sad smile, moving her hand to his cheek, “Thank you, my brother. I appreciate your warmth and kindness.”

While her sons greeted their step sisters warmly, the reception the girls and Joffrey gave their uncles and Queen was stiff, not unlike her own. Daeron, however, was pleasant, either oblivious to the tension or decided to rise above it. Either way, it was enough to ease the strain, at least with everyone other than Aegon and Aemond. Her two eldest brothers lingered on the fringes of the crowd, eyeing their estranged family warrily, only speaking when spoken to through tight smiles that didn’t meet their eyes, or curt nods. Rhaenyra was also painfully aware that they did not even look at each other, and whenever Alicent seemed to make a move towards Aegon, he would shoulder his way through the bodies to find someone or something to distract himself with.

Rhaenyra trailed over to her husband, standing at his shoulder, “Do you mind enlightening me about what is going on here?” Her question was directed to the obvious thick atmosphere. 

Daemon opened his mouth, but at that moment the doors opened and a Kingsguard announced the arrival of Lord Bartimos Celtigar, and his family. Instead he smiled broadly and turned to his wife, “I believe that should answer your question.” 

And just like that, Rhaenyra noticed the sudden shift in the room. She watched her brothers’ visible change in demeanor as the doors opened, and the Celtigars marched through in a line, eldest to youngest. Aemond’s back went ramrod straight, but his face seemed to soften, his lips the only thing moving with a slight twitch at the ends of his mouth. He was trying to contain himself, unlike Aegon who had moved away from the crowd so he could be on the front lines, grin uncontained, unashamed. 

Then Rhaenyra saw why, walking behind the tall, willowy Floris Grafton. The little figure of Valeana Celtigar appeared, wearing her family’s colours of red and white. Cheeks still soft and pink, hair impossibly long and white, but she was now older and womanly, and very distinctively Valyrian. 

Targaryen. 

The princess shared a look with Daemon, who was nothing but amused, “You’ve come just in time to witness a war of hearts between kin.”

Her only response was a tilt of her head, because before she could question more, Bartimos was in front of her, bowing his head. Another round of greetings were met, some a second time since Dragonstone, some for the very first time. Rhaenyra took special attention at the familiarity she saw between Daeron and Shyla, but when Aegon crowded Valeana the moment she separated from her family, Rhaenyra’s eyes were glued onto them. He whispered something in her ear, she smiled bashfully, but then her eyes flickered over to Aemond, who was watching her with his hands clasped behind his back, an unreadable emotion simmering behind his single eye.

Rhaenyra migrated over to Jacaerys, mind still lingering on the interaction between her two eldest brothers and Valeana, who now was meeting Rhaena and Beala for the first time in many years. 

“Is this the development you speak of?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

Jace smirked, shaking his head, “Part of it, but no. Lady Valeana and I spoke at length yesterday… Once we get a moment, I wish to speak to you and Daemon about it. But suffice to say, mother, I do not believe she and I are compatible.” 

“Hm,” Rhaenyra pursed her lips before giving a small nod. “At least I know it has nothing to do with her appearance.” 

Jace scoffed in good humour, “No, not in the least.” 

The princess stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Instead she moved through the crowd of Valyrians to finally meet Valeana for the first time in a decade. When Baela spotted her step-mother’s presence, she stopped talking mid sentence, which made Valeana turn around after sensing her silent interruption. 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” she curtseyed with a polite smile, though the edges twitched at her attempt to contain a grin. It was clear that little Val still remembered the memories she shared with her, and for that, Rhaenyra was grateful, now more than ever. 

“Lady Valeana,” her hands reached out to hold onto the young woman’s, her smile full of fondness, though her eyes were pensive as she searched Valeana’s face, trying to find traces of herself, of her father. It was impossible to tell, Valeana looked like Lysa Lannister with silver hair and soft curves. Still, there could be a chance… A possibility that the girl in front of her was her sister. Rhaenyra swallowed at the thought. 

“You have blossomed into such a beautiful young woman.” her hands moved to the sides of her face, her thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, “And perhaps a princess, by the end of this season.”

Valeana blushed deeply, her eyes flickering over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, to someone behind her, and then looked down shyly, “You flatter me, my Princess. Though I am not so sure if the title suits me as much as it does you, or Helaena.” 

Rhaenyra briefly recalled the conversion she had when the girl was barely older than babe, wiggling around in her arms, trying to get away from the princess’s affection. She turned around, spotting the faces of her brothers, both of whom quickly looked away from her when she made eye contact. Then she moved her eyes to her father, who caught it immediately, conveying many words with just the simple gesture.

Sighing, she turned back to Valeana, her hands now moving to the flow of her wavy white-gold hair, “It fits you more than you realize.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE SNEAK PEAK Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.”  Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats. 

Notes: *IMPORTANT NOTE FOR NEXT WEEK* So, because next week is Christmas, there won't be an update next Saturday, because I'm going to be quite busy with family obligations, and I'm not gonna even have time/energy to proof read. So this is the last chapter of the year, and the next one will be out January 4th! But, I'll still be around, and hopefully by the next two weeks, I'll have pumped out a couple of chapters to get a head of my schedule so I can work on that sad Aegon One-Shot. In the mean time, I hope everyone has a happy, safe holiday and new year!!

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

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Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[forays-into-fiction]

I Want You So Bad I Can’t Breathe

You met Eddie when you first moved to Hawkins, Indiana it was an especially difficult time for you and Eddie was the one to stand by you, becoming fast friends. But then he was moving on to middle school and leaving you behind only to forget about you. You admire him from afar until Hellfire Club where you finally reconnect.

 Request fill for @harringtonfan4​ hope you like it, sorry if I went too hard on the negative self-image/insecurity stuff 😅

Minors DNI

Contains: Dom!Eddie/Sub!Reader, Slight Perv!Eddie Virgin!Reader, PlusSize!Reader, Insecure!Eddie, Insecure!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Angst, Major Internalised Fatphobia/Fatphobia, Bullying, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Praise Kink, Innocence/Virginity Kink, Unprotected Sex, Drug Use (Weed)

Fat. It was a word you’d heard more than half your life by now at eighteen. The first time someone called you fat you were seven, she was supposed to be your friend… your best friend, but her snide little, ‘Why are you so fat? It’s so gross!’ stuck with you.

 Looking back now you know you weren’t fat… you know it every time you look back, but you can never see it in the moment. And you weren’t fat you were just an average sized little girl with chubby little cheeks.

No matter how far back it’s always been ‘oh I used to think I was so fat back then, what I would give to go back to that size. But now, now I really am fat’

 Over the years this mindset had really impacted your life, you used to be more outgoing, you used to love to sing and dance, you used to live without constantly thinking about how everyone else saw you. Because no one wants to see the fat girl having fun, enjoying life right… better to hide away.

You had tried to lose weight, so many times… and you did, but every time you’d lose weight as soon as you’d hit a plateau your weight would sit there for a bit before slowly creeping back up and up and up. At least until you weighed even more than when you’d started.

 It wasn’t just your friend that had made comments about your weight, she was the first but she certainly wasn’t the last. You’d also had a bully around the same time, she had consistently tormented you every day. 

Day after day she’d drag you away from your friends, pulling you into a secluded corner to harass you verbally, physically, mentally… until one day you finally told someone. 

Your mum went off on that other girl, threatened her so badly every time you saw her since then she’d cross the road to avoid you… but the damage had been done.

You didn’t have to deal with the aftermath for too long, shortly after your parents had decided to move to Hawkins, Indiana to be closer to your grandparents. 

Your little brother was almost four now and they were going to need help taking care of the two of you, both of them working long hours and odd shifts just to get by. Also needed a bigger house to accommodate the needs of your growing family.

You were eight when you first met him, he was ten both of you still in elementary school. You were new in town, that in itself already made you an oddity to say the least. 

Some kids had been picking on you, calling you names, pushing you around, you were on the verge of tears when he stepped in. He’d scared them off pretty easily, being both older and taller, buzzed head giving him a ‘tougher’ look.

 Once they had left, he turned to you, placing a hand on your shoulder looking into your eyes like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, “Hey, don’t pay attention to shitheads like that, ok? I’m Eddie.”

“Y/n…” You reply shakily.

“Y/n,” He repeats, “that is a very pretty name. Nice to meet you y/n.”

“N-nice to meet you t-too.”

“Wanna have lunch with me?”

“Yeah…”

 You’d spent the rest of that school year by his side he’d introduced you to this game he played, Dungeons and Dragons. He’d jokingly criticised your taste in music, telling you he’d show you some real music. 

You pout and protest that just because he doesn’t like your music doesn’t mean it’s not real music, but begrudgingly you listen to his stuff and find you actually like it… not that you’d admit it to him, you’d never give him the satisfaction.

 If you were honest with yourself, you’d been smitten with him since that day, but you buried those thoughts and feelings deep down, tried to ignore it.

But then all too quickly he’s moving on to middle school, the two of you promise to stay in touch but you don’t. You don’t want to push it either, he’s probably moved on to something better… someone better.

 In his absence you became closer with one Nancy Wheeler. Your brother and hers were in the same playgroup and your families had become closer as a whole. Both you and her were the same age, you’d bonded over the little things and she was a good friend to you.

It’s not until another two years later that you see him again, you’re starting middle school and he’s in his final year there. His hair is a bit longer now, no longer completely buzzed, still cropped short but growing out. 

You admire him from afar, he wouldn’t remember you… why would he remember you? You couldn’t risk embarrassing yourself by approaching him now.

 Your brother and his friends have discovered Dungeons and Dragons, the game has changed a bit since you first played but you sit in with them for a few sessions, Nancy also joins on occasion. 

You DM until Will asks to take over one session, then they all take turns at being DM, each running their own campaign with your guidance. As Nancy starts to lose interest in the game, you feel you should stick with her rather than intrude on your brother’s group.

 And time slips by the year is over, he’s moving on to high school, leaving you behind once more.

By the time you see him again you’re both in high school, his hair is longer still, becoming a bushy mane around his head, he’s really embracing the ‘metal’ look from what you can see and it suits him you think.  

 You hear he’s started a D&D group here at the school, Hellfire Club it was called. You were tempted to join, you had really missed him all these years, you doubt he would have even spared you a second thought… who would? Why would he care about that fat, little weird kid who followed him around for a year?

 You ask Nancy what she thinks, “I kinda know the guy that runs it, we were friends for a little while. It was before you and I really started hanging out properly, but I don’t think he remembers me. What do you think, should I join? Would you join with me?”

 “I think if you want to join you should, and it seems like you do… but I don’t know about joining myself, I kind of outgrew that phase. I’m thinking of signing up for the school paper though.”

“Oh, yeah that’s great you definitely should!”

“So, what about you? You going to join that club?”

“Ummm… yeah, maybe… I do want to, but I’m a little nervous.”

“I thought you said the guy that runs it is a friend, just talk to him.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t talked in years, I’m sure he doesn’t remember me.”

“It’ll be fine if you are worried about talking to him directly, I’m sure they’d have some sort of sign-up sheet, just go put your name down.” She shrugs.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok that doesn’t sound too bad.”

And they do have a sign-up sheet, it’s hung just outside the drama room, but you can’t see a pen anywhere. You rummage around in your bag for your pencil case, but then he appears beside you and you jump. 

He holds a pen out towards you with one hand, the other on which he’d drawn a silly, little face comes up and he makes it ‘talk’ with a funny voice, “Need a pen?”

“Ahhh… yeah, thanks…?” You take the offered pen awkwardly.

His silly face hand drops, internally he’s facepalming, ‘why the fuck did you do that?’ he thinks pressing on despite this, “Eddie. My name is Eddie.”

You shift self-consciously avoiding looking him in the eye, “Yeah, I uhh… I remember you, Eddie. You probably don’t remember me-”

A broad grin spreads across his face, “Are you kidding, of course I remember you, princess. Sorry if I scared you earlier, by the way. So, you’re signing up for Hellfire, huh?”

You shrug, “Yeah, if you’ll have me, I guess.”

“It’ll be just like the good old days. You still been playing?”

“Umm… not so much lately, but you remember my little brother?”

He nods, you continue, “He and his friends are really into it now. When they first started I DM’ed for them, at least until they got the hang of it.”

“Awww, princess DM’ing… I woulda loved to see that.”

“I mean you still could… if I’m joining Hellfire…”

“Oh, no… no I am the Dungeon Master there, princess no one else. And I run a brutal campaign… you better prepare yourself. I’m not about to go easy on you, just cause it’s you.”

“We’ll see about that won’t we Munson, I can take brutal, you know.”

He just about chokes on his words at that, but manages to contain himself… barely, “Uhh huh sure you can, princess.”

The next couple of years after that the two of you reconnect, it was like you’d never been apart, but again he’s coming up on his final year, about to leave you behind yet again. And then… he doesn’t, he doesn’t graduate, he fails his senior year. 

You’re torn on the one hand it means you get another year with him, another year before he disappears again. On the other hand, you hated seeing him fail, you knew how shitty high school was for him, constantly being mocked and teased. You hadn’t had it any better either, but having him there helped and now you’d have him for another year.

 But now, now you’re eighteen, he’s twenty and he’s failed again. So, you get to share all your classes with him, you feel guilty about how happy you are to still have him with you. 

Your little brother and his friends are just starting high school and Eddie takes them under his wing, inviting them to join you at your table. You would have done so yourself, but he’d beaten you to it and it reminded you of the day you met him, the way he stood up for you, the way he still stood up for you.

 Your feelings have resurfaced… or maybe they’d always been there, just bubbling away in the hidden recesses of your mind. You hated yourself for it, it wasn’t for you to have a crush… nothing could possibly come of it, you’d seen the way he’d looked at other girls, prettier girls, skinnier girls… he’d never want you, why bother? And every day you dig yourself deeper into this hole, torturing yourself.

He’s driving you to school one day when you find yourself humming along to one of the songs on his radio and he is very quick to call you out on it. “Hey, I thought you didn’t like my, quote ‘shitty metal’?”

You give him a shove, “Fuck off, you know I don’t.”

“Oh, yeah then why are you fucking humming Metallica hmmm?” He grins smugly.

“I dunno, I guess it grows on you… like a wart… or a skin lesion… or you.”

“Hey, you take that back!”

You giggle, “Never.”

“Oh, really is that how it is?” He glances over at you briefly, taking one hand from the steering wheel he begins poking at you “Take. It. Back.”

You squirm away from his prodding fingers, but then instead of getting your arm or your shoulder he misses and makes contact with the swell of your belly and you freeze.

He knows he’s done something wrong, when he glances over again, the way your giggles die on your lips, the way you won’t look at him.

“What’s wrong princess?” He asks seriously.

“Nothing. Nothing, just drive.” Your voice sounds almost empty, but he doesn’t push any further.

Nancy knows, even if you won’t admit it at first, but she knows about your not so little crush. When you finally do admit it, she encourages you to do something about it, but you can’t… you couldn’t, could you? What if it ruined everything between the two of you… after all why would he ever look at you like that…

 It does no good to dwell on these thoughts, but they come up, every time you’re in his van, every time he looks at you with that glint in his eye, every time you’re sat in his bedroom… on his bed, smoking and laughing and forgetting who you are for just a split second. It gives you hope, but then it all comes crashing down around you.

 When he shows you how to roll your first joint, you can’t take your eyes off of him. You don’t hear a word he’s saying, it washes over you without comprehension. He sits facing you from the foot of your bed, you sit cross-legged facing him, leaning in slightly. 

You watch his nimble fingers working away, the way his tongue darts out to wet the paper, his eyes never leaving yours, making sure you pay attention. It makes you feel hot all over, squirming as he’s twisting off the end giving you a little grin, proudly showing it off, “… and that is how it’s done.”

“Uhh cool, thanks.” You move to pluck it from his fingertips but he snatches it away.

“Ah, ah, ah don’t you know the rules… roller’s rights?”

You look at him in confusion, he explains, “The roller always takes the first hit.”

“Oh, ok.” You mumble and settle back down into the pillows. He lights up the end then takes a few puffs before passing it over to you, you take a deep drag and choke almost immediately. He laughs before smacking you on the back, before rubbing in soothing circles “Hey, take it easy… just breathe.”

He reaches across you to the water sitting on your bedside table, “Here take a sip, it’ll help.”

You take a few sips of water and steady your breathing before he continues, his hand still on your back, “When you take a hit it’s just a few little breaths in, slowly, lightly. Don’t try to take too much at once, it’s not the same as smoking a cigarette, ok?”

“Yep, uhh huh.” You croak out.  

“And hold the smoke in your mouth first, then breathe in from here…” he rubs a hand over his belly, up high by his diaphragm.

“You wanna try again?”

You nod humming in response and he nods back for you to go ahead.

You follow his advice and it goes better, you try again and it’s even easier.

“Alright, now pass it back.” He holds out a hand and you hand it over to him.

“There, now give it a few minutes before you try again, it’s your first time don’t wanna go too hard, too fast.” He takes another puff.

You giggle, teasing, “But what if I want hard and fast?”

And then he’s choking, spluttering, coughing up smoke.

“Jesus H Christ… princess you can’t say shit like that, someone might take it the wrong way one day.” He gasps out.

You roll your eyes, “Eddie, come on no one is thinking of me like that, get real.”

He hesitates a moment, “What if… what if I told you I thought of you like that?”

“Haha, very funny…” you reply sarcastically, but he’s not laughing, “… wait a minute you’re serious?”

“Yeah, you got no fucking idea…”

“Are you sure that isn’t just the weed talking, I mean I heard it can make people-”

He cuts you off with a fierce kiss, pushing his lips to yours forcefully, nipping at your bottom lip gently, the joint burning down steadily in his limp grip. When he breaks away, he looks at you with lust clouded eyes, “Oh, I’m real fucking sure, princess. I have been crushing on you since God only knows when.”

You look up at him through your lashes, bashfully, “Ummm I’ve been crushing on you pretty much since the day we met.” You confess.

“Shit… can I fucking kiss you again?” He breathes out.

“Yeah… umm, maybe just get rid of that first.” You nod down to his fingers.

“Oh, right… yeah.” He mumbles reaching for his black metal lunchbox, snubbing out the joint on the lid and tossing it inside.

He looks back over at you, leaning in slowly, you don’t know why, but you’re blurting out, “imavirgin…” the words meld together in your embarrassment.

“What was that? Didn’t quite get that...”

You take a deep steadying breath, making sure to enunciate clearly this time, you repeat, “I’m a virgin.”

He lets out a guttural groan, “Fuck, princess is that true? No one… no one’s ever touched you before?”

“Umm no never… never been kissed before either…” You admit shyly.

“That’s quite a few firsts tonight, isn’t it? Do you wanna tackle a few more?”

You nod, pouting at him, “Please Eddie, kiss me again?”

“How could I refuse?”

He swoops in capturing your lips between his own once more, you feel his tongue probing for entrance you let out a needy whine and it’s slipping in alongside your own. 

You tangle your hands into his hair you gasp as he lifts you into his lap, you pull away, “Wh-what’re you doing, don’t I’m heavy…”

“Oh no, you are just perfect, you sit right there, right on top of my cock.” He emphasises this with a roll of his hips and the hard bulge of his dick grinds into your heated core. You whine again at the sensation, feeling a wetness pool between your thighs.

He pulls you back in for another kiss, sloppier than the previous and you grind back against him with a moan.

“Did you mean it?” He gasps into your mouth.

“Huh?”

“When you said you want it ‘hard and fast’… or was that just a joke?”

“I dunno… it wasn’t entirely a joke…”

“You think you can handle it hard and fast, do you think you’ll still like me after, if I’m rough?” He growls.

“Please Eddie, I want you. I want you so bad I can’t breathe.” You gasp.

“Ok, but we’re gonna start off slow alright? Then we can ramp it up to hard and fast.” He chuckles darkly.

As he resumes kissing you his hands move to lift your shirt and you pull away suddenly.

“You ok, sweetheart? You change your mind?” Concern laces his voice.

“No… no it’s not that… just, could we maybe turn the lights off…?”

It’s like a switch flips in his head, “Oh no, no sweetheart I wanna see all of you… every gorgeous bit. The things I would do to you…”

He groans his hands dropping to your plump legs that straddle his own, squeezing them softly, urging you to move against him more firmly, “Wanna bury my face between these thighs… so fucking gorgeous… wanna do so much with ‘em, bite ‘em, suck em, kiss ‘em… push your legs together and fuck them.”

He drops one hand to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh, he growls, “Oh and if you let me take you from behind, I could watch your ass jiggle as I pound into you, maybe slap it a bit if you’d let me… would you like that princess? Want me to slap that fucking glorious ass of yours? You have no idea how many times I’ve been distracted by just that… thinking about bending you over and just taking you…” You’re panting desperately at his touch, barely done anything and he’s already got you absolutely wrecked.

 He moves his hand up to your chest, groping your breasts he lets out a guttural moan as you whine pitifully, “And these tits, don’t even get me started on those… absolutely perfect… shove my face into them too, suck on your nipples, pinch ‘em ‘til you fucking scream… oh god, I’d love it if you held your tits together… let me fuck em ‘til I cum all over your pretty face, watch it drip down your chin…” his filthy mouth has you soaking your panties, grinding down into him.

You barely register that he’s popped the button on your jeans sliding them down slowly until he flips you over onto your back and you gasp, you never knew he was so strong, the way he was manhandling you like it was nothing. 

He kneels between your legs, towering over you, you yelp as he grabs your jeans roughly pulling them the rest of the way down before you can protest. 

You unconsciously tug the hem of your shirt lower to cover yourself and he swats your hands away, “Ah, ah sweetheart none of that I wanna see you… how about this, if I take off my shirt you let me take off yours?”

You bite you lip as you consider it, God do you wanna see him… bare chest, tattoos all on display… you nod nervously, mumbling “O-ok… b-but you first…?”

He concedes, “Ok, sweetheart me first.”

He hooks a hand into the collar of his shirt pulls it off and tosses it across the room blindly, your eyes rake over him, practically salivating at the sight, lingering on the sparse trail of hair peeking out over his belt. He’s smirking down at you as you pout up at him, “Pants too?”

“What about them?” He teases.

“Wan’ you to take yours off too… ‘s only fair…”

He grins devilishly, eyes glinting, “How about you take them off for me, princess?”

You sit up and place a shaky hand over his belt buckle, your fingers just grazing the hair of his happy trail. You undo the belt clumsily and unzip his jeans before rolling them down his thighs slowly. His baggy blue and white chequered boxers do little to hide his erection as it tents the fabric there. 

Before you can do anything else he’s pushing you back into the pillows behind you, “Now, I seem to remember that the deal was… tit for tat, or rather tats for tits you may say…” he chuckles.

You giggle and resist the urge to fight him when his hands drop to toy with the hem of your shirt, he leans in easing your shirt up, trailing kisses over your belly, your chest, until he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses that aside too, diving back in to kiss you eagerly on the lips. He pulls away leaving you breathless, humming in appreciation, “Beautiful…”

“Eddie stoop…” You whine swatting at him.

“Never, I meant what I said and I’m gonna suck on those tits ‘til you’re begging me for more… there’s uhh… something I want you to do for me though…”

“What’s that?” You mumble curiously.

“Don’t call me Eddie. Do you think you could… call me ‘daddy’ while we…”

You gasp, “Fuck… yeah I can do that for you… daddy.”

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.” He moans encouragingly before ducking his head to the crook of your neck biting, kissing, mouthing on it as his hands wrap around you. Calloused, ringed fingers brush against your back as he fiddles with the clasp of your bra, he gets it loose and slips it off down your arms. 

He trails kisses down your chest until he reaches a nipple, sucking it into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue. His hands join his mouth, pushing your tits closer together, pinching and rolling the other nipple between his fingers. Your breath hitches at his ministrations and you let out a shaky moan.

“So, fucking responsive… love that I’m the only one who gets to do this to you…” He growls against your skin. He takes the hand closest to his mouth and caresses your mound, before dipping his fingers under the waistband. He runs his fingertips through your slick, teasing your entrance before dragging the up to circle your clit.

“All of this is just for me…” He murmurs, pulling away from you chest briefly.

“Yes, just you… no one else.” You gasp in response.

“God fucking damn, that’s right. I’m the only one that gets to touch you like this, isn’t that right?”

You mumble in assent, “Mhmmm that’s right… daddy, only you.”

“Fuck, princess gonna make me bust a nut and we haven’t even started yet.”

Your legs quiver on either side of him as he plunges two fingers into you crooking them against your soft, spongy walls. You can hear his rings clink together and feel them bump against your entrance, the sound met with a wet squelch as your cunt takes all he has to offer. 

His thumb moves to press against your clit in clumsy circles, you grab onto his shoulders tightly, there’s a tension mounting, coiling deep in your belly.

“That’s it princess, you gonna cum for daddy? Cum on my fingers for me.”

Something in you snaps and the tension is released all at once, your walls flutter on his fingertips, your release gushing all over them as you moan breathily.

He grins at you proudly as you gasp for breath, “So, another first for you… what’s that now, first joint, first kiss, first orgasm from my fingers… what’s next my tongue or my cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ Eddie…” he gives you a disapproving look and you try again, “please… please, daddy.”

“Please what, sweetheart… use your words.”

“Please… fuck me…” You whine.

“How do you want it?” He asks firmly, “Tongue. Or cock?”

“Wan’ your cock, wan’ you to fuck me hard, show me I’m yours…” You whimper in response, weakly reaching for his boxers.

“You on any kind of birth control, sweetheart?” He asks in earnest.

“Mhhmm… yep I am.”

“Good… that’s good… now you’re sure about this, right?”

“Yes, never wanted anything more in my life… please…”

He ducks down and presses a kiss to your thigh before tugging your panties down your legs. He looks up at you with a little grin, panties hanging off his finger, “Mind if I keep these?”

“You can have whatever you want so long as you make me cum again daddy…”

He groans in response eyes squeezing shut briefly, and he palms at his cock. He drapes your panties over his lunchbox before sliding down his boxers to join his jeans. His thick, weepy length bobs up between his legs, precum bubbling up at the flushed tip. You gasp at the sight, “You’re so… big… can I touch it first?”

“Gonna gimme an ego sweetheart…” he mumbles as he reaches out for your hand guiding it onto his stiff length.

His precum slicks the motions of your hand, he controls the pace, running your hand along his length the way he likes. You devote all your attention to his cock while he watches you appreciatively.

When you swipe your thumb over the head on the upstroke, he growls lowly, “That’s enough now, princess. This time you’re gonna soak my cock with that tight little cunt of yours.” He looks into your eyes, his own dark with lust.

He pulls his jeans and boxers all the way off dropping them over the edge of the bed.

He pushes you back down into the pillows with a hand on your shoulder before moving to sweep your hair out of your face. He grabs your hand, slick and sticky from rubbing his flushed cock and holds it in front of your face, “Look you got your hand all messy. Lick it clean princess.” He orders.

He pushes your own hand to your mouth and you swipe your tongue over your palm before wrapping your lips around your fingers with a low moan. “Such a good girl for daddy.” He hums, you can taste him on your skin you whine as you imagine what it would be like to suck on his fat cock. 

He smirks down at you while he grips his shaft at the base, rubbing the head through your glistening folds. Then another image springs to mind, one he’d painted for you, of him fucking your breasts, losing himself completely and cumming all over your face… how high would it splatter, would it get in your mouth, would it taste like this.

He pulls your hand away from your mouth leaning in for a kiss as he forces his tip inside your dribbling entrance. He swallows up all your little whines and gasps as he drops a hand between you to rub at your swollen clit. He sinks into you further and further until he’s buried deeper than you ever thought possible.

“Gonna give it to you hard and fast real soon princess, but we gotta get you a little warmed up for me first…”

He rolls his hips thrusting shallowly as you adjust to the sensation.

“Please… hmmm… fuck, faster please daddy. Feels so… mhnnn… feels so good” You pant out, hips rising to meet his.

“With pleasure sweetheart.” His hands move to grip your hips bruisingly tight. As he increases the pace, you feel his balls slapping against your ass, the room is filled with all sorts of obscene, wet sounds. 

You twist your hand into his curls, gazing up at his rosy face, sweat dripping from his brow, eyes blown wide with lust. When you give a little tug on his hair, he lets out a deep, rumbling moan.

He hooks his arms beneath your legs pulling them up over his shoulders sinking into you deeper with this new angle, “You like being filled up, sweetheart? Feel so good when daddy’s deep in you? You gonna let me cum buried inside you?”

“Please… god yes, want it so bad daddy, want you to fill me up with your cum.”

He brings a hand up to your chin, thumb sliding over it ‘til it rests on your bottom lip as you whimper beneath him, he eases his thumb between your lips and you suck on it mindlessly.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you right?”

You nod, mumbling around his thumb in agreement.

“Then open.” He forces your jaw down with his thumb, you look up at him a little confused.

Suddenly he spits in your mouth, ramming his cock into you at the same time, you whimper.

“Now swallow.” He demands and you do so, your saliva mixing with his as it slides down your throat and your walls flex around him of their own accord.

“Oh, you liked that did you?”

“Y-yes daddy.”

“Oh, you’re such a good girl for me. You do like it hard, don’t you? Gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

“Please… fuck, please gonna cum again.”

“Then cum for me. Squeeze on my dick, lemme feel it. Cum for daddy.”

You wail, chanting “Daddy, daddy, daddy… fuck ‘m cumming.” Your back arches, head thrown back gasping as you clamp down around him, your release running over his cock in rivulets and he continues to pound into you, fucking you through your orgasm. 

You fall back limply still spasming around him when he reaches his peak, he growls, “Yeah that’s it princess, you’re gonna take all my fucking cum… take everything daddy gives you.”

He empties his heavy balls deep inside you with a deep, strung-out groan, you can feel his warm seed flood your cunt, drenching your already slick channel.

He collapses on top of you, sweaty bodies pressed together and he tries to nuzzle in even closer.

“God, that was good sweetheart.” He pants in your ear.

“Yeah.” You mumble in agreement running a hand over his back tracing random patterns.

He sighs and you feel his breath against your cheek while his cock softens slowly slipping out of you. You can feel your combined fluids leaking out of your entrance slipping down between your ass to pool on your bed. 

Eddie rolls off of you wandering off naked, when he returns, he’s cleaned himself off, approaching you carrying a warm, damp cloth, he runs it over your body soothingly, between your legs cleaning you off. 

He stoops down untangling his boxers from his jeans slipping them on as he moves to your wardrobe rifling around til he finds some pyjamas. He helps you into them gently and wraps the covers around you and turns out the lights before slotting himself in behind you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

You melt into his embrace and he wishes you sweet dreams, you return the sentiment. The pair of you doze off smiling contentedly in your post-orgasm bliss.

Eddie wakes in very early hours of the morning, still happy and content, girl of his dreams wrapped up in his arms. His thoughts turn sour as he lays there, the demons in his head tormenting him…

Jesus Christ what have you done, that was her first time you fucking pig… you told her to call you ‘daddy’ what is wrong with you… fucking freak… shit that’s what everyone’s gonna think the freak and the fatty, both of you together that’ll send them all into a frenzy and her oh, she’ll never hear the end of it, do you really think she deserves that… do you think you deserve to be happy…

And he’s slipping out from under the covers shrouded in his shame, careful not to rouse you he dresses and collects his belongings. He pauses briefly before pocketing your panties, one last little souvenir. Sick pervert. He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts before taking off into the early dawn.

You wake up a few hours later, sore, mumbling his name, hands searching for his warmth only to come up with nothing. Eyes snapping open you look around in confusion, you find that all of his belongings are gone all evidence that he was even here gone. 

He’d be back, for sure he’d be back. Why would he leave…? But he doesn’t come back, doesn’t answer any of your calls. This continues for the rest of the weekend, you convince yourself it’ll be different when you get to school.

Monday rolls around, your stomach twists into knots, did he regret it, wake up next to you with a sudden clarity, no longer horny or high and realise he didn’t actually want someone who looked like you. Or maybe he was just worried what other people would think if he dated someone like you… good enough to fuck, but not good enough to keep around. 

You can’t believe that you’d let yourself believe that it could be something more for even a second. Tears sting your eyes and you swipe them away angrily, you huff sulking off into the bathroom, don’t be so fucking dumb, of course he wouldn’t want you just deal with it. You splash cold water over your face and take a few deep breaths to steady yourself.

 You end up late for homeroom, only just entering the room as the teacher calls your name. Eddie isn’t sitting in his usual seat, instead he’s sat beside Gareth chatting away about something to do with the band and their show tomorrow night.

He doesn’t look at you as you pass him, you slink off to the last available seats, it’s fine, it’s fine… more tears threaten to slip out but you bite them back.

He avoids you for the rest of the day, you don’t even see him at lunch, but then you pass him on your way out of the cafeteria, you call out to him, “Hey, Eddie there you are I’ve been looking for you all day.”

But he walks right passed you, blank-faced, staring straight passed you. It’s like a knife to your heart, your frozen can’t move, can’t speak, the tears you’ve been fighting all day spill out. Someone bumps into your shoulder and of course it has to be them, “Watch it fatass.” 

And there’s giggles as they walk on you can hear them saying to one another, “She was fucking crying did you see her, what a fucking loser… not even the freak wants to be seen with her now.”

That’s the final straw, you don’t even bother collecting your stuff from your locker you just… leave. You walk all the way home blindly, the tears stoped at some point leaving your eyes puffy and stinging, your nails dig into your palms leaving little half-moon impressions.

You let yourself in trudging to your room, stripping off your clothes and pulling on anything that’s nearby before crawling into bed burying yourself beneath the covers.

Your mum wakes you when she gets home, you brush her off telling her you’re not feeling well, trying to pass it off as really bad period cramps. You tell her you might not go in to school tomorrow, she offers to bring you something to eat and a hot water bottle you nod mutely, you don’t really feel like talking much.

 You spend the next few days like that in a haze, numb to the world but acutely aware of the stabbing pain in your chest and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. By the fourth day Nancy stops by to check on you, it’s not like you to miss so many days of school, let alone walk out in the middle of the day.

She enters your room tentatively calling out to you, she sits on the edge of your bed as you groan from your cocoon of blankets.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

You give a little grunt, she brushes your greasy hair behind your ear gently, “Want a hug?” She offers.

“No, ‘m all gross.” You mumble pulling your self to sit up at the very least, but then the tears flow anew, that’s exactly why he doesn’t want you… fat, ugly, gross, loser… every insult ever hurled at you streams through your brain.

Nancy wraps her arms around you despite your attempts to push her away.

“You know I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong. Your mum said you haven’t been eating properly, won’t come out of your room, i haven’t seen you like this since… well in a really long time.”

You breathe in shakily trying to stem the flow of tears, “I’m a fucking idiot that’s what’s wrong.”

“Hey, hey that’s not true, tell me what actually happened.”

You shake your head pushing away from her, “Can’t.”

“Tough ‘cause I’m not leaving ‘til you do.” She folds her arms over her chest giving you a determined look.

“Well, be prepared to stay a while then.”

“Don’t be stubborn.” She chides.

“You don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Fine, Ugh fine…”

“Go on I’m listening.”

“He doesn’t want me, doesn’t want anything to do with me now.” You can’t bring yourself to look at her while you speak.

“Who’re you talking about?”

“Eddie.”

“That’s not possible, that guy looks at you like you hung the moon. What happened? Did you tell him how you feel or…”

“No… well yes, but… ok, so he came over Friday night. You know how my parents went away?” She nods as you continue, “So, I asked him what it was like to smoke weed, like we always smoke together when we’re at his place, but never that and he was showing me how to roll a joint and god he looked so hot and I made some dumb joke about wanting it ‘hard and fast’ and he kissed me and told me he had a crush on me and I told him as well… and one thing kinda led to another and we ended up having sex and…” you trail off uncertain of how much detail is too much detail.

“None of that sounds bad so far, where did you get the idea that he doesn’t want you if he’s already slept with you.”

“When I woke up in the morning… after… he was gone, he didn’t answer any of my calls the whole weekend but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt… I dunno, whatever. Anyway then at school on Monday he acted like I didn’t even exist, walked right passed me and they had to see it, had to comment on it.”

You hazard a glance at her and you can practically see the steam billowing out from her ears, “I’m sorry he what?!”

“I just I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, the year’s almost over and just like before he’ll be disappearing from my life again… this time just a little sooner than planned.”

“I’m gonna talk to him.” She says firmly.

“What? No! Nance don’t… please don’t… promise me you won’t.”

“I…” she falters at the look in your eye, “Alright, fine I won’t.”

You shoot her a stern look, “Really, I promise I won’t.” She insist.

“I mean it don’t.” You finish firmly.

“Ok… have you eaten today? What did you have?”

“I did, I had tea and crackers.”

“Is that it? All day that’s all you had?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not like I’m doing anything today other than wallowing in bed and it’s not as if I’ll starve to death.”

“You know starving yourself is just as bad as overeating, neither of which is going to help you right now. Come on get out of bed go have a shower, I’ll make you something to eat and we can watch a movie… we haven’t had a girl’s night in a while you know.”

 You give in to her pestering and it does help to take your mind off things for a bit. She makes you promise that she’ll see you up and about next week.

Nancy doesn’t break her promise at first, not exactly but she does go straight to Steve right after your little ‘girl’s night’.

“You want me to what?”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, relax it’s not that big a deal just talk to the guy.”

“Why me? If it’s not such a big deal you talk to him.”

“I told you I promised y/n I wouldn’t so I’m not.”

“Still don’t get why it has to be me.” He grumbles.

“What are you scared of him or something?” She teases.

“No! It’s just weird you want me to talk to him about his sex life, c’mon that’s weird.”

“Hey, y/n is your friend too and she’s really hurting right now, just talk to the guy.”

“Why couldn’t it be one of those Hellfire guys instead?”

“Well, I don’t really know them, I know you… but I guess we could talk to them too. Maybe they could help, we can ask Mike where to find them.”

 That’s how they find themselves grouped together with a couple of the guys from Hellfire Club, on Eddie Munson’s front porch. Nancy knocks on the front door and Eddie tumbles out to greet them “Wheeler? Harrington? The fuck are you two doing here?”

He spots Gareth and Jeff just behind them, “Emerson… what the fuck is going on?”

Nancy pokes him in the chest angrily, “Inside. Now, Munson.”

He holds up his hands in surrender stumbling backwards inside the trailer.

When everyone is inside, he tries again, “Right, so is anyone gonna fill me in here? What the fuck is going on?”

The boys let her go off on her tirade, her promise to you forgotten amidst her anger, “Don’t play dumb Munson, we’re here about what happened with y/n.”

“Shit… yeah I know I took things too far but tell her it’s ok, I’ll stay away from now on.”

“That is exactly the problem, why are you staying away?”

“Just imagine what people would say about us, the freak and the fatty…”

Gareth speaks up taken aback, “What the fuck man since when do you call her that?”

Eddie sighs “I don’t, it’s just what people would say and she doesn’t deserve that, she doesn’t need people judging her and they would if we were together. Why would anyone want to be seen with the freak nah she doesn’t need that.”

“Since when has that stopped her before, she’s with you all the time?” Jeff counters.

“Yeah, but that’s different it’ll be so much worse for her if we’re dating, this is for her own good, she’d be better off without me all together.” He protests with a tone of finality.

“Shouldn’t you let her decide that for herself? You don’t think you’re hurting her right now… acting like this. Imagine what she’s feeling, what she’s thinking. She’s alone in her room, hasn’t left for days, hasn’t been eating, torturing herself over why you’d do this.” Nancy attempts to reason with him.

Reality comes crashing down around him as he realises what he’s done, “Oh fuck I’m… shit I’m a fucking asshole. I let my own fucking insecurities get to me I didn’t stop to think how she’d feel, how she’d see it… fuck, fuck, fuck.” He paces back and forth tugging on his curls anxiously. His head snaps up, locking on to Nancy, “What do I do… what can I do?”

Steve speaks up for the first time, side-eyeing Nancy as he does so, “You fucking apologise man, take her flowers, beg for her forgiveness… whatever it takes.”

“Right… right.” He mutters to himself before his head pops up again, “You guys uh wanna like leave, or…?”

“Yeah, we’ll go.” Steve replies leading the way out of the trailer.

Nancy lets the other two go first before turning back to Eddie, “You fix this Munson… and I was never here, ok?”

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uhh… yeah ok.”

He stands beneath your bedroom window tossing rocks at it til one connects. You peek your head out at the noise and see him standing there, arms laden with flowers and candy. You don’t quite trust yourself to speak first so you stare down at him expectantly.

He finally breaks the silence, “Can I come in? We gotta talk.”

Your despair solidifies into bitter anger, “Oh, now you wanna talk… fuck off.”

“Please… please just hear me out.” He calls back desperately.

“Why the fuck should I? I gave you so many chances, why now?”

“I’m a fucking idiot, I know that and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. Please just let me in, let me explain and then I’ll go if you want, I promise.”

“Alright, fine. You better make it quick though… you know the way in. Come up.” You slip back into your room slamming the window shut.

He takes the stairs in leaps and bounds when he gets inside, hesitating outside your bedroom before steeling himself and opening the door.

The second he steps inside it’s like all moisture is wicked away from his mouth he stands there for a moment in silence. You prompt him to begin, “Well? You gonna actually speak or-”

He blurts out, “I love you…”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Yeah, sure you fucking do… not falling for that one again.”

He persists, “I’m really, really, really sorry, you have no idea. I uh got these for you.” He thrusts out the flowers and a box of candy in your direction.

You eye them sceptically, snarling, “And what some flowers and chocolates are gonna make me just fall right into bed with you again… ‘daddy’?”

“I never should have… I took things way too far for your first time I am so fucking sorry. I really do love you though.” He says in earnest.

Your voice cracks, “Why did you leave? Why do you always fucking leave me?”

“Because I was a dumb fucking piece of shit too wrapped up in my own insecurities… thinking I don’t deserve you, don’t deserve happiness… worried about what people would think of you if you were dating me, the things they’d say…thought you’d be better off without me.”

“It’s not on you to make decisions like that for me, you ass. The things people would say about me because I’m dating you… fuck that’d just fly right over my head ‘cause I’d be with you. And that shit about you not deserving happiness is just that, absolute shit… of course you deserve happiness. And by doing this you deprived both of us of a chance at happiness.”

“Is… is it too late… can I… can we try again?” He stutters out hopefully.

Your resolve slips, “You really hurt me Munson…”

His face falls, “I know, I’m so sorry… and I will spend the rest of my fucking life making it up to you if… if you’d let me?”

“It… it wasn’t too far you know, umm I actually really liked it… all of it.”

His eyes search your own desperately, “Does that mean…?”

“Yes Eddie, it means we can try again.”

His face lights up and he drops the flowers and the candy onto your bed, he moves towards you but stops suddenly, “Can… can I kiss you?”

You give a small nod and he dives in kissing you slowly, deeply, with purpose. He pulls away and asks breathily, “Can I stay the night?”

“Don’t push your luck.” You warn.

He gasps, “No! Not… not like that… I mean not that I wouldn’t want that, but… I mean, just let me sleep here, that’s it just sleep, cuddle a bit. Then in the morning I’ll show you how it should have gone the first time, like this past week never happened.”

“O-ok, yeah we can do that.”

“Thank you.” He hums pulling you against him, nuzzling into your neck.

And true to his word that is all you do that night, falling asleep wrapped up in one another, peacefully. He wakes you in the morning with a sweet kiss, he says he’d offer to make you breakfast but the best he could do is cereal so he takes you out to the diner instead.

When you tell Nancy what happened she doesn’t seem too surprised, “Good I’m glad the two of you worked that out, I’m happy for you really… but if he ever does anything like that again you tell me straight away. I’ll sort him right out.”

You shoot her a suspicious look, “Nance, did you talk to him?”

“What? No! No, I promised I wouldn’t… it was Steve and a couple of your Hellfire friends I swear.”

“Uh huh and how did they know about it?” You probe.

She folds easily, “Alright fine I talked to him, I’m sorry but-”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I’m glad you did, thank you.”

“No problem… so, now can we talk about it… what’s he like in the bedroom?”

You gasp mock scandalised, “Nancy Wheeler, how dare you…” you can’t maintain it for long and burst into giggles, “He is gooood I’ll say that much, very generous in every sense of the word.”

She raises a brow, “You mean…” and indicates size with her hands.

You nod “Oh, boy do I, and he knows what to do with it.”

She chuckles at your response, you ask about her, “How’re you and Jonathan?”

“Good, we’re good…”

The two of you chat long into the night, you’re glad of a friend like her, glad she stepped in when she did else who knows how things could’ve gone.

[nowplayingblog]

STIRRING

Summary: Remus is enjoying a quiet off season with his husband and newborn son - well, quiet may not be the right word.

SW credit to @lumosinlove

Remus-being-a-good-singer headcanon credit to @fruitcoops

Song: All the Animals by Jewel

Remus had been told - by his parents, by Lily and James, by Pascal and Celeste - to get his rest while he could. But with the new baby on the way, Remus found himself staring at their bedroom ceiling at night, his stomach churning with his many worries over how good of a parent he would be. And over how little sleep he was getting in the months and weeks leading up to their son's birth.

After their son came home, Remus found himself somewhat grateful for his sleepless nights. The amount of sleep he was getting hadn't really changed. Now he just had a purpose when he was awake.

It was late July now, Remus and Sirius savoring the last few weeks of their off-season, silently dreading when training and practices would pick back up, and their ability to stay with their son for every second of every day stolen away from them.

It wasn't as though they would never see their son again, but after the near constant contact they had with him Remus suspected they would all three be suffering from the growing pains that came with life's inability to slowdown.

Theodore Rigel Lupin-Black was crying. It was 2:37 AM, and Remus groggily woke up from a shockingly restful 3 hours of sleep.

That was another thing Remus had noticed. He wasn't getting a lot of sleep - but the little time he did get he fell asleep more quickly, and slept more deeply.

"Er-ugh," Sirius groaned from where he was curled up beside Remus, his arm thrown across Remus's waist. "Teddy?"

"I got it baby," Remus said softly, turning in Sirius's arms and kissing his forehead "you got him last time."

"He's probably hungry." Sirius muttered, before promptly falling back asleep. Remus sat up in the bed and throwing his legs over the side.

Theodore, little Teddy, slept in a bassinet in the corner of their bedroom. It calmed their nerves, it was easier to hear him when he needed them, and he wasn't a long walk away. They had a nursery for him down the hall, full decorated in a fantasy forest theme, complete with a mural of knights and dragons Regulus had so thoughtfully painted for them. Teddy took his naps in there, and he would move in full time once pre-season started up. For now, they had him all to themselves.

Teddy was kicking his legs inside his swaddle sack, his face scrunched up in his perceived misery. Remus cooed as he lifted the baby into his arms.

"Oh, my poor baby," he said, "Are you so hungry? Are Papa and Dada so mean and never feed you anything."

Teddy's cries softened slightly, as if knowing this wasn't true and feeling guilty for implying such a thing. His eyes were open and tracking Remus's face.

"I know, I know," Remus cooed, tucking Teddy safely into his arms and making his way out of the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen.

He took a pre-made bottle from the fridge and placed it in the bottle warmer, and started to bounce Teddy in his arms while they waited. Teddy was decidedly unhappy at the prospect of having to wait any longer, and had picked up his cries. Remus combated this humming nonsensically and giving Teddy firm pats on the back to the beat.

The humming morphed into singing. A song Remus recognized from when he was a little kid.

all the animals

agree, you and me

should be a team

Teddy's cries were soothed slightly, going from wailing to soft whimpers and coos as he listened to Remus's voice, letting himself be soothed.

Remus let himself linger at the calm, aware look of his son's face. Teddy's hair was currently a dark brown color. They had tried to pick a surrogate that looked as much like Sirius as possible, so they had been debating if Teddy's hair would lighten to Remus's lighter, honey-brown hair, or stay dark like Sirius's. Based on the baby pictures Hope Lupin had brought when she had last visited, of a dark-haired baby, Remus had his hopes. But the full head of curls was all to similar to the likes of Sirius.

Teddy was getting chubby in his second month. He was so adorable, covered in rolls of baby fat, his cheeks full and his face round. he had long eyelashes too, now clumped together with the remains of his tears.

and they walk on parade

say that we were made

to be a team

The timer on the bottle warmer went off, and Remus reached for the bottle, carefully maneuvering Teddy in his arms to test the temperature against his wrist, continuing to sing.

and my heart

flutters when you're near

Deeming the bottle safe for Teddy, Remus took the bottle, and placing the nipple against his son's lips, and Teddy sucked eagerly. With his son satisfied, Remus made his way to sit down at the couch in the living room, continuing to sing and rock to Teddy, hoping to get him to fall asleep as soon as he was done with his bottle.

Remus looked down at his son, who's tired eyes dropped as he took his bottle, and his heart swelled with a familiar happiness. His son - his sweet baby boy, in his arms. His husband getting some well-deserved rest in the other room. Remus remembered when not to long ago his current reality was nothing more than a fever dream.

And Teddy was perfect.

and all the rainbows

say that they know

we're a perfect pair

[okay-j-hannah]

A Family Reunion

The Hobbit : Fic

Bilbo x Reader

Word Count: 2240

Warnings: angsty AnGSt that hits thE HeART... but also somehow makes you feel warm inside?? HElp? 

Request: “Hey hon! I just found your blog and I love it!!! May I request a Hobbit one Bilbo Baggins (Young) x reader. Maybe where it’s after the Journey, she had a baby, maybe a little boy. Thorin, Fili, and Kili never die. Maybe the company all surprise visits and sees the reader with the new baby and are totally shocked. Sorry if it’s confusing. Thanks!!” @remitheremit​

A/N: Memory has a funny way of altering what was and what could have been - one always being more painful than the other  

(I need to say upfront that I am SO PROUD OF THIS FIC! It is now one of my FAVORITES ❤💖❤)

There is a certain grief that can’t be described with words. There is a tear in the heart that stretches gruesomely with every beat. There is a pain that resounds in empty echoes.

Those who have felt it know what it is like.

The sun came warmly over the hillside, the breeze making its merry way through the fields. The green leaves twirled charmingly from their trees as birds graced their branches. Bubbling brooks sang along the rocks while the roads above grumbled under the weight of wagons.

The Shire was peaceful that summer morning. It was welcoming and full of delight. It was home.

There was a sizzling in the kitchen as the wife hummed over the stovetop, a low song retelling tales of a lonesome mountain. She busied herself with the biscuits and nut cake, flipping an omelet with precision. There was a hash browning full of leeks, spinach, and cheese with a pan adjacent to it homing a variety of sausage, eggs, and onions. It was something any hobbit would be proud of at seven in the morning

The window before her bathed her with flattering light. And a sign lightly swinging near the paved road read: Bag End. It began to wobble when a cart passed beneath, a friendly hobbit carrying a load of potatoes. Children were squealing behind it, chasing the crooked wheels with their small fishing poles.

She smiled. A motherly smile that only enhanced the warmth outside. One that stretched when she heard the cooing behind her.

Turning she found her husband carrying their little one. He held the toddler close, bouncing slightly whilst gazing at his love. She sighed, completely content as she advanced them with open arms.

He kissed her sweetly on the cheek and smiled as she tickled their infant in his arms.

“Good morning,” he muttered, still training his eyes on her beautiful frame, “I think he’s learning the smell of your cooking.” He leaned back to get a better look at his son, “Woke up as soon as the smell of bacon appeared.”

The infant waved his fat little hands towards his mother, earning her attention expertly.

“That is because he has good taste,” she lifted the baby from her husband, leaning him on her hip and wrapping his blanket around more securely, “He’s his father’s son.”

With his arms now free, the grown hobbit went to the stove to toss the ham omelet, “I might try for the creek this afternoon. Perhaps bring something back for dinner.”

She grinned, swaying with one of the infant’s hands around her finger, “And by that you mean you’ll go to fish, catch nothing, and then stop by the market on your way home.”

“The Brandybuck’s do always have the best carp on sale,” he snickered, looking out the window himself.

A faraway look was coming over him, something that was not uncommon. It was the hills and vast landscaping behind the Shire that took him. He would envision them into great mountains, spectacular kingdoms, and entangling forests. Visions from years ago.

“Bilbo?” she muttered, “What is it?”

He hummed an acknowledgment, keeping his gaze focused, “Have you ever noticed how small a hillside is compared to a mountain?”

She gave a breathy laugh, “I’m not sure our little hills know what a mountain even looks like.”

Bilbo smirked, blinking rapidly to clear his head, “No, I suppose not. Their world is sheltered by green fields and simple trees.” He clinked some plates as he began serving the breakfast, still deep in thought, “(Y/N)?”

His wife perked up, swaying over with the baby to hear him ask, “Do you think we’ll see mountains again?”

It was always a hope that they would one day pack up their things for another journey, this time as a married pair. But once their little one became real there was just less urgency to get back to the maps.

And the years became more.

There is a belief that this life is simply one journey. A long road that paves the way to the next great adventure.

To those who have traveled know that many paths lead to more perilous obstructions. Obstacles that take the breath away, befuddle the mind, and paralyze the limbs. Both in beauty and in pain.

They walked down the grass lined trails to their little back garden – a personal project by (Y/N). It paid homage to what once was, delivering a peaceful reminder for those who wish to recall.

The centerpiece was a glorious oak tree.

(Y/N) could hear her husband’s words from so many years ago, “One day it’ll grow. And every time I look at it, I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened: the good, the bad… and how lucky I am that I made it home.”

That they made it home.

Their son padded along the planted flowers and sparing sprouts as they sat below the oak tree. Bilbo extracted his pipe and wrapped an arm around (Y/N), drawing her close as she began to read a book.

He puffed smoke rings and she read him some of her favorite passages. Complete bliss as their little boy practiced his walking, discovering hidden snails and smooth cobblestones.

“Alright there, laddie?” a course voice appeared nearby, “I see you’ve still managed to keep ahold of your lass.”

“It can’t be,” Bilbo stumbled off the roots of his tree, standing to behold the vast number of guests surrounding their garden.

(Y/N) couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped her, the book forgotten and falling from her fingers, “Bofur?”

The hat wearing dwarf smiled back, “Evenin’ (Y/N). You’re looking well.”

She practically squealed as she attempted to dodge the plants to get to her friend, one that helped her keep her sanity most days on the journey.

Bilbo was still shocked into a standstill, moving his eyes across the lineup with his mouth agape.

Ori and Nori waved at him, both sprouting even more impressive beards than when he last saw them. Gloin chuckled lowly, clapping his hands together at Oin attempting to listen to the crazed squeals of the hobbit girl through his trumpet. An even frailer Balin was hunched near him, giving him an impressive laugh at his reaction. Dwalin was not far behind, throwing two ironclad fists into the air as the cheers reached a maximum.

(Y/N) danced around Bofur, hugging him for a third time, rounding to shake hands with Bifur and wave at Bombur.

There is a certain grief that can’t be described with words.

Dori gave her a sweet greeting before she practically tripped on her way into Fili and Kili’s arms.

There is a tear in the heart that stretches gruesomely with every beat.

Fili and Kili. Once dwarves that Bilbo had feared would sweep his girl away, but the fair princes showed courage in protecting her as if she was their long-lost sister.

There is a pain that resounds in empty echoes.

And their presence could only mean…

Thorin Oakenshield, the true King under the Mountain. He stood surrounded by his family, peering over at the hobbit that was once a nagging thorn in his side. Now he was a true friend and companion.

A long road that paves the way to the next great adventure.

“Thorin…”

That which takes the breath away, befuddles the mind, and paralyzes the limbs.

“I see you’ve planted your tree,” the king stated, growing into a smirk, “It has grown into something great to behold.”

Bilbo found his legs moving, winding through the garden til he was able to pull the dwarf into a tight embrace, “In all my years… I would never have thought…”

“Who’s this little hobbit?” came Bofur’s voice from the oak tree. He was knelt beside their little boy, twiddling his fingers towards his chubby cheeks.

Thorin gazed around his friend, his smile only growing, “A babe?”

Bilbo felt his veins filling with more excitement that replaced the initial shock, “Yes, yes – our son!”

(Y/N) flew over to her best friend, a childlike speed in her steps and a twinkling laugh gracing her lips, “He’s almost eight months old.” She watched Bofur pick him up, his large frame seemingly bigger now with an infant in his arms.

“He has his mother’s eyes,” he remarked, watching the boy peer up at him curiously, “And his father’s pout.”

There was a round of laughs as the others began to swarm into the garden, taking turns to state their shock at the youngling. Bofur bounced him, making faces as Bifur appeared with a trick up his sleeve – he extracted a wooden toy he had widdled back at Erebor.

It was a small figurine of a dragon.

“Quite terrifying,” Fili stated, earning more laughs from the group, “Come here, little one.”

He took up the toddler into his careful hands, much more cautious than he once was as a young prince. His hair had grown along with his beard, more beads intertwined into his braids. The little Baggins was gazing at him now with the wooden dragon clutched in his hand.

“He doesn’t know what to make of me.”

“That’s because you’re holding him wrong!” came Kili, reaching to take away the boy, “You’re not cut out for infants, brother.”

(Y/N) chuckled, finding Bilbo coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her middle. He grinned from behind her ear, noticing the sniffles that were beginning to fall from her.

“Who knew our talk of mountains this morning would have led us to this?” she muttered, finding tears in her eyes as she watched her friends welcome their child.

Bilbo laughed, holding her close, “I suppose when you speak of mountains, the mountain dwellers come.” They laughed, swaying together in time before he addressed the family now bombarding his son, “He’s going to have to learn what having fourteen uncles is like.”

Kili laughed at the smile the child was giving him, “I think I’ve won the place as favorite.”

“That’s because you took him without giving me a chance to entertain him,” Fili scolded, tickling the toddler from behind.

Thorin came around and spoke serenely, “What is the name?”

Bilbo took a deep breath, squeezing his wife to him as she let a tear fall, “We call him Thoro. Thoro Baggins.”

The concept is often called the butterfly effect. One choice, or one event, could alter the course of the entire future. It could change every bit of what’s to come.

Something could have happened to have made it stop. To have made it the way it was supposed to be. To be a part of the dream.

“He is named after the bravest man we’ve come to know,” (Y/N) muttered, wiping tears away as Bilbo stood straight beside her. “After the famed King under the Mountain.”

Thorin took a moment to gaze at them before nodding his head subtly. It appeared as though he was trying to contain the emotion in his voice as he opened his arms for the boy, “Little one…”

And young Thoro fell into his namesake’s arms, holding his dragon close. He looked into his holder’s eyes, finding a welcoming sight and developing a smile onto his features.

“He will grow strong. He will become as great and mighty as this oak tree you’ve planted,” Thorin continued, holding the boy dear. “And he shall one day walk the halls of Erebor, I will see to it.”

(Y/N) couldn’t contain the emotional laugh she gave; how happy she was at the sight. Thorin stood there with her son, his nephews on either side with pride swelling in their chests.

And Bilbo was there beside her, beaming with more joy than she had seen him express in a long time.

And she blinked.

The lights were dim, the sun no longer shining. The morning breeze nonexistent in the missing trees. It was piercingly silent, harsh and unfeeling as it swept the room.  

The cavern was vast and cold and dark; only candles reflected off the carven stone. And the sorrow was so tangible you could have seen it swarming the spacious hall. It consumed each member of the company that heavily walked around each stone alter.

(Y/N) remained where she stood, above the head of their King. She was blinking her eyes continuously as if, by some sudden miracle, she’ll open them and see him looking back.

Her heart beat painfully, her lungs voided of necessary air. It was too hard to imagine what crisp summer air tasted like.

Thorin laid peacefully, his young nephews on either side of him. Each clad with their best armor and finest weaponry – methods to hide the gruesome ends they each had met.

It was incredible the number of tears falling onto her cheeks, dripping from her nose. Her scratchy, red eyes turned only to find the sullen gaze of the hobbit she’d come to love. He too was staring caverns into Thorin’s alter, as if he was unable to properly look at the dwarf without life in him.

He was consumed with trying to hide the sobs he felt, almost blowing out the candles that surrounded him.

And (Y/N) felt for him. She felt for the other men surrounding her.

And if only… if only something could have happened. Something that could have happened to have made it stop. To have made it the way it was supposed to be.

To be a part of the dream.

~~~

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[burlybanner]

Syzygy

Notes: New story. Will be putting it in installments, probably once/week. This is more or less to keep me honest with writing it. If I don’t, I won’t finish. I know me far too well. It’s a monster, probably close to NaNoWriMo levels if I’m honest. But it’s a nice monster. Note the tags.

Syzygy

Rating: M (themes/language mostly)

Pairing: Stark Spangled Banner

Special note: an AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Summary:  They’d always been a triad - sun and moon, encircling a heavenly body...

***

The question was so out of the blue, so perplexing, so - fuck no, he must be losing his hearing - insane that Tony dropped the spanner. It bounced and clanged angrily across the lab's cement floor causing one bot - U - to chirp softly and pick it up. U tried returning it to its creator by repeating bumping against his leg, but Tony focused on one thing right now. One person.

"Run that by me again?"

"You heard me." Bruce Banner stared at an oil smudge between their feet. It was twisted in an odd shape, reminiscent of pancake-shaped licorice. "I don't think I need to repeat myself."

"Oh hell, no. No." Tony yanked the spanner from U's grip and tapped his shoulder with it while pacing the floor. "You don't drop a bombshell like that without giving a guy a hint. What brought this on?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly."

"It looks comfortably soothing, I’m tired of running, I like who I am...and." He bit down his response, holding it between his teeth, but Tony could see Bruce mentally shifting gears - frustratingly choosing to conceal a portion of truth. A skill Bruce was, unfortunately, still good at doing.

Bruce sighed. "Maybe I'm warming up to full-on pampering from you and Steve. Do I really need to explain myself?"

"All right, fine. I...get it. Sort of." Tony paused mid-pace and gave Bruce the side-eye, but not without sauntering over to his extremely significant other while poking him in his gut (and Tony's finger sunk in a good five inches, before Bruce swatted his hand away).

Like diving into fresh dough, Tony thought wickedly.  

“Stop that.”

"Whatever. I'm just saying, you're what. Three-sixty? Three-seventy?"

"Three-ninety."

Tony tutted his tongue against his teeth, his eyes scanning Bruce from head to toe. He'd overlooked how round and jowly Bruce's cheeks had become and how much more his heavy belly wobbled over his belt like an over-inflated water balloon.

Tony slowly scraped his lower lip with his teeth and let his libido drink in Bruce's delicious form.  His fat had dissolved all his chiseled edges, smoothing them like candle wax, dimpling him in places Tony never expected to notice. Arms, legs, face, chin, chest, neck - even elbows and fingers Pillsburied up into scrumptious fat. Bruce'd blown up like a county fair attraction and Tony couldn't tell where he'd even put on the extra twenty; Bruce’s fat had settled into all his body’s spare nooks and crannies. All that lovely jiggling Jell-o. Waiting for touches, prods, tickles, and gropes—

"Earth to Tony," Bruce muttered, snapping his fingers in Tony's slackened face.

Tony snorted, pretending Bruce hadn't mesmerized him and turned him so the fuck on. Was he becoming more like Cap these days? Wouldn't doubt it. "ANY-hoo," Tony said, grabbing a rolling chair. He took inventory of Bruce more thoroughly by rolling around the scientist, taking a good 360-look while Bruce stared at his circular pattern.

"Are you trying to orbit me?"

Tony laughed. "No. Although that could be an experiment for another day." Tony poked and prodded Bruce’s flab, freely grabbing fistfuls of his favorite butterball and fluffing his ample butt cheeks.

"Tony," Bruce cautioned.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"What are you plotting?"

"Me, plotting? Perish the thought. I'm planning, Banner. I have ideas, I have a million ideas. But we're gonna have to get Cap involved. He'll want to know."

Bruce fidgeted somewhat, which surprised Tony. Didn't seem like something Bruce would be shy about.

"So soon?"

"Well, yah, the sooner the better." Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "What's bugging you, Care Bear?"

"Nothing," Bruce said, but Tony didn't believe him. He let it slide as he rolled back to his desk.

" 'Nothing' for now, babe, but I'll challenge that declaration later." He did a quick calculation in his head and pulled up Jarvis' keyboard. "J, open a new file for me. Call it, 'Operation Supermax.' "

"Seriously?"

"Don't mock the name, Brucie Bear. It's not like I had time to come up with something better."

"New file created," Jarvis intoned, flooding the room with his soothing AI voice. "Would you like to add to it now, sir?"

Tony grinned at Bruce. "Scan Brucie for me, Jarvis. Put all his current vitals in there. Show us what we're working with."

Jarvis threw up a 3D image of Bruce‘s body and stats. “I will say, I'm quite curious, sirs."

"So‘re we, J. Especially interested in what'll happen after we tell Cap."

Bruce looked less enthused at telling Steve, but whatever. Steve was their partner; not telling him would be ridiculous. "Sure you don't wanna say why you're lookin' grim?"

"I'm not grim," Bruce stated, and Tony waggled his finger at Bruce's lie.

"Not my monkeys, not my circus. But you know Steve'll get it out of you if I can't, Pooh."

"I know."

"Easier to rip off the band-aid."

"I said I knew, didn't I?"

"Fine, fine." Tony toggled a few buttons on his keyboard. "J, call Steve down. We're gonna have a family meeting."

**

But Steve relayed a message through Jarvis saying he'd meet up after he'd finished his workout.  Bruce had grabbed five pounds' worth of snacks and wanted to wait for Steve in the media room, but Tony cajoled and wheedled him until he caved. Which was why he ended up joining Tony in the exercise room instead, ogling Steve's lifting routine.  Well, “cajoling and wheedling” wasn’t exactly right, to be fair. Watching Steve work out was a damn privilege.

"I feel like a stalker," Bruce muttered, unwrapping one of his remaining chocolate bars. He wasn't not staring, though.

"He probably knows we're here. He says he doesn't, but I think he does. I'm just obeyin' my thirst."

"Quit watching those dumb commercials." Bruce scarfed down his jumbo Snickers bar with two or three grateful grunts and gulped down his soda. And no, Bruce's Adam's Apple bobbing so deliciously up and down did not mesmerize Tony. Certainly not.

Nope.

"Mmf--and/or, get off social media. Sounds like you’re trying too hard to fit in with the cool kids."

"Heh. You can't tell me Steve doesn't like teasing us right back." Tony pointed his chin at Steve powerlifting weights rivaling Thor's class. "Look at 'im, you can't tell me he's not a thirst trap."

Bruce made a face as he tossed his wrapper and soda can in the trash. "Definitely too much social media."

Tony's eye lingered over Bruce's dwindling dragon hoard of snacks, which teased a lecherous smile from his lips. "You startin' early, or what?"

"Gotta keep up my strength."

"Mhm." Tony went into his head, thinking about how Steve'd go bonkers. In a good way. Probably in a good way. "You know Steve'll have his own ideas. You gonna let him go hog wild?"

"Oh, hardy-har." Bruce tore into a packet of mini donuts. "Yeah, okay, fine," he grunted. A smattering of donut crumbs sprayed from his full mouth before he put a hand to his lips to stop them. "You figured out why I'm apprehensive. Don't rub it in."

"I'm not tryin' to, Brucie. In fact, I think you're blowing this up way out of proportion." And don't think Tony didn't recognize the pun, even if Bruce didn't. He casually watched Bruce scrape crumbs from his shirt. "Don't you think he cares enough that h--"

"Oh, hey, fellas!"

Steve finally noticed them salivating in front of the spy window. Which was what Tony called it. Really, it was a breezeway with a window to the exercise rooms so folks could check for occupied training floors. But Tony mostly used it to indulge his naturally nosy nature.

Steve grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around his neck while Tony bit his tongue. Making lewd comments was tempting and although Steve wouldn't have minded, Bruce would get skittish if he ramped up the tension now. And if Bruce bolted, well...kinda made what he was about to do moot.

"What's up?" Steve dabbed sweat from his forehead and plunked next to Bruce on the thirst trap bench. His cheeks reddened when he noticed the mound of opened goodies. "Is it an emergency? Fury call us in?"

"Oh, nothing like that," Tony said. He propped his feet beneath the breezeway window. "Bruce has something he wants to say."

Bruce wiped powdered sugar off his lips while swallowing thickly. "Well, not...exactly."

"Yeah, ya do, exactly," Tony said, nudging Bruce's shoulder. "Boy Scout," he said, calling to Steve. "D'you think you could steel yourself enough to not act like a kid in a candy store?"

"Tony..."

"Bruce, hon', it's all good. Steve," he started again. Poor guy already looked five kinds of confused. "It's something that'll affect the three of us but unless Bruce explains with his big boy words I'm not gonna help him."

"Traitor," Bruce huffed.

"Only way to kick you out of the nest."

"What," Steve said, finally getting a word in edgewise, "the hell. Are you two talking about?"

Bruce shot Tony a narrow look before turning to Steve. "It's...it's not enough," he began slowly. "I-I mean, we're fine," he stuttered, gesturing to each of them. "We're great. But I want. I want more. And I'm not sure how you'll take it."

"Just know," Tony interrupted, "I'm on board 100% if you are. But I'm looking at this from a scientific perspective more than--"

"I thought you said I should tell him."

"Well, you're taking too long, Banner. Cut to the chase!"

Steve held up a hand, motioning both to shut their traps. "Thank you," he said once they quieted. "Now. Bruce. Muffin." He stroked Bruce's chubby cheek and Bruce melted like butter in his hand. "Gimme the specifics. Let me decide if I'll be okay or not with whatever it is."

But Tony could see the small trembling smile on Cap's features; Steve was noticeably scared. He made a face, hoping Bruce hurried it up before causing irreparable damage.

"I want," Bruce sighed heavily. His glance went back and forth at the men in his life, then to his hands. "I'm not exactly happy at my current weight."

Steve's lips thinned. He looked like someone had taken his favorite toy away, but the expression fled before Bruce caught it.

Tony noticed, though.

"So you want to lose weight," Steve sighed. He kept his voice level but Tony detected his disappointment. "Well, I understand. It's not like we expected it forever and--"

"No," Bruce interrupted, quieter than before. He wrapped his hand around Steve's, stilling the man's jitters. "You've misunderstood. It's...ah. It's the opposite."

Steve's cheeks flared while Tony choked back laughter from Steve's startled expression.

"W-what? You wanna gain more?"

Bruce slowly nodded. "I know you've always been encouraging, and you seemed satisfied when I tapered off. But I really like it when you and Tony feed me." Bruce reached for Tony's hand and rubbed his thumb across their knuckles. "I like breakfasts in bed, lazy nights watching B movies, and eating crappy takeout. I like feeling overstuffed, and the headiness the feeling brings me. I think I've gotten as large as I can on my own. So I'll need help from you and Tony to get...um. Larger."

Steve visibly gulped. "Um. H...how much larger are we talkin'--?"

Bruce glanced Tony's way, and Tony encouraged him with a nod. "Um. To a point where I can  stay sedentary. I'm happy at home - I'm happy here. With us. I don't want to run anymore, and I want to feel grounded. Literally. So--"

"He wants to become immobile," Tony explained, butting in again. "Which is no mean feat, with his metabolism. Even with Bed, even with all the snacking and meals he gets, he's probably leveled off. But if we're talkin' immobility, we're probably addin' another three hundred to him, more or less."

Cap let out a shaky sigh. "Whoa..."

Tony shrugged. "Again, more or less. Depends on what 'immobile' means to a guy like Bruce. 'Course you know," Tony said, sobering. "He's wouldn't be totally immobile, not really." His dark eyes roamed Bruce, emphasizing the seriousness of his next words. "The only way that would happen is if we separated him from the Hulk."

"Which I'm not asking for," Bruce quickly piped. "That's not my goal."

"Good. 'Cause that's more than my paygrade. What'dya think, Spangles?" Tony turned to Steve. "You in, or what?"

"I...I'm not even sure." His expression remained pensive before hovering between Tony and Bruce. "I think I want to understand what that means before I agree to it. It'll change our 'rules,' our dynamics, the team--"

"Absolutely," Bruce agreed. "But I guess...I'd like to retire, if that's okay. From the team. I've already spoken with the university--"

"What?"

"You have?"

Bruce motioned for his boyfriends to calm down.  "I'm not giving up teaching, I'm just switching to an online format. I'll still be an adjunct but I won't teach in person or in front of a classroom. And besides..." He sighed, but a small smile teased his lips. "I won't be mobile enough for a classroom. At least that's what I'm hoping."

Tony shared a look with Steve who looked both mesmerized and stunned. But then Tony noticed something else a sly, (dare he say it), evil mastermind grin on Steve's face rivaling their greatest enemies.

"Steve. Your bad boy expression is showing," Tony muttered.

"I know, I know," Steve breathed. "But I kinda I wanna know how soon we can start."

Part two: https://burlybanner.tumblr.com/post/185854349769/syzygy-2

[mysunfreckle]

Freckle, since you've ruined one the few activities I had no Les Mis feelings about (watching the seals be fat and happy), I think the least you can do is write me some more of that beautiful au ❤︎ ❤︎

The seawind is fresh without being cold and Enjolras inhales large lungfuls of it.Deep breaths. That’s it. He’s done these breathing exercises since he was akid. They always work. It’s kind of silly he needs them again though, he hasn’thad this problem for years.

A merryshout echoes out across the shore and in a flash Enjolras sees his firstglimpse of Grantaire of the day. He’s wrestling in the surf with two pups soyoung they can hardly be distinguished from normal seals. Suddenly twounmistakable selkie heads pop up from the waves beside Grantaire and fourchubby arms do their level best to push him further ashore. Enjolras guessesthat must be the selkie equivalent of dunking someone under water.

“Unhand me,you little brats!” Grantaire roars and he makes a grab for the new assailantswhile the smaller pups let out barking laughs that still sound oddly human.

“Get himGav!” a female voice shouts, grabbing at Grantaire’s tail.

Grantairegives a proper flick of his fins and the young selkie screams and laughs asshe’s flung back into the sea. Grantaire swims after her, but a split secondlater all three of her brothers leap on top of him and he sinks.

Enjolraslaughs out loud and a shower of sparks bursts from his lips. He clasps his handin front of his mouth. Damn it. He really needs to get a hold of himself.Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, steady- Grantaire emerges from the water andhops onto a rock, a pup dangling from their tail in each hand. This time sparksfly from Enjolras’ nose. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Grantaire!”a new voice calls out. “You’re being watched.”

Enjolrasscans the shoreline wildly and colours when he sees a girl lying in the sun ina gentle hollow in the pebble beach. She’s wrapped loosely in a sealcoat thatis much browner than Grantaire’s. It matches the colour of her long hair.Grantaire looks up, sees him, and lowers the seal pups back into the waterbefore waving.

Enjolraswaves back and swallows the sparks jumping to his lips.

“Shoo!”Grantaire laughs, when the pups try to climb onto his rock. “Go botherParnasse, he’s in the cave.” He slides off the rock and swims to the shore, to wherethe selkie girl is lounging.

Enjolraswalks towards the same spot, albeit rather awkwardly. He’s never seen Grantairehang out with other selkies before and its kind embarrassing to just intrude onthem like this.

“Enjolras,this is Éponine,” Grantaire says with a grin when he’s reached them.

“Oh!”Enjolras exclaims. “So those were your siblings!” He gestures to the water.Grantaire has told him all about Éponine and her brothers and sister, but he’snever actually seen them.

“All fourof them,” Éponine hums in agreement. “So you’re the dragon?” She smirks at him.“I see you around here a lot.”

Enjolrassquares his shoulders defiantly. “I would have introduced myself if you hadallowed me to see you,” he says.

“I was onlyteasing,” Éponine smiles. “The beach belongs to all of us, right?”

Enjolrasrelaxes a little.

“Oh, kidsincoming,” Grantaire warns.

The twoolder seal pups from before emerge from the waves. The girl plants feet on theshore and runs up to her sister, wrapped firmly in her pelt, but the boy sitsdown beside Grantaire. Both have their tail still in the very edge of thewaves. He gives Enjolras an appraising look. “You Enjolras?” he asks.

“Yes,”Enjolras says, looking back steadily.

“That’sGavroche,” Éponine says helpfully.

“And I’mAzelma,” her sister says.

“You don’t muchlook like a dragon,” Gavroche points out.

“Gav,”Grantaire grunts.

“Well hedoesn’t,” Gavroche insists.

Withoutsaying a word Enjolras tucks his hair behind his ears and moves his face so thesunlight catches on the scales scattered along the edge of his cheek.

Gavrochehums, mildly impressed.

“You cantransform fully if you want to, right?” Azelma asks curiously. She has sat downnext to Éponine, who is still lying on her back. Azelma’s pelt is also brownand she has drawn herself into it so that only her head and her right hand arevisible as she hugs her knees.

“Yes Ican,” Enjolras confirms. “But I don’t do it too often.”

Human kidsmight have asked for a demonstration, but to their credit Azelma and Gavroche donot. Nor do they ask him to breathe fire, which he appreciates.

Grantaireseems pleased too and he ruffles Gavroche’s hair affectionately.

Gavrochesquirms and half-heartedly tries to swat his hands away. It looks like awell-established routine between them and Enjolras watches it with mildsurprise. He hadn’t expected Grantaire to be so fond of children. It’s sweet.Suddenly his test gives a tell-tale jolt and Enjolras coughs, extinguishing thesparks in his hand. At least he felt it coming this time. “So,” he asks alittle hoarsely. “How come I’ve never seen you guys before.” He glances atÉponine with a quirked eyebrow. “If I’m here so much.”

She grins.

“Mostselkies only come ashore after moonrise,” Grantaire explains.

“And youmight have seen some of them,” Éponine points out. “I’m sure you looked rightat me once, you probably just thought I was a regular seal.”

Enjolraswould feel embarrassed about that, but looking like regular seals is kind ofwhat selkies are all about so he just nods.

“Éponineand me are wild delinquents,” Grantaire grins. “Going ashore instead of stayingat the sandbanks further into the sea.”

“It’s toocrowded there,” Éponine sighs. “I need my space okay.” She glances out at thesea. “Gav, can you go keep an eye on Téo and Juju?”

“Sure, Iwas getting bored anyway,” Gavroche snarks. “See you,” he nods at Enjolras androlls back into the waves.

Azelmawatches him go and stretches out comfortably beside her sister, sticking herlegs and arms out from under her pelt.

Enjolrasglances at them and then at Grantaire.

Grantairegrins. “Want to go for a walk?” he asks.

“If youfeel like it,” Enjolras says gratefully.

Grantairenods and Enjolras turns around. He knows Grantaire doesn’t like being watchedwhile he transforms.

“What agentleman,” Éponine teases and Azelma lets out a soft giggle.

Grantairescoffs. “Come on, Enjolras,” he says and he strides past him dramatically. “Letus leave these insolent ladies to their sunbathing.”

Enjolraslaughs, but he can taste smoke on his breath again so he quickly shuts hismouth. Grantaire has wrapped his sealcoat around his waist like a skirt and iswalking with his broad shoulders bare in the sun. The light turning the spotson his skin all their different shades of brownish grey. Enjolras stares andthen squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Why does that look so pretty? And whyis he suddenly full of dragon fire again? He does his utmost to breathe evenly.If he isn’t careful he’ll start breathing actual flames, he is sure of it. Ifonly he knew what to do about this.He’s never felt anything like this before. Even the sparks taste different inhis mouth.

“You okay?”Grantaire asks beside him.

“Yeah,”Enjolras nods, looking at his feet, walking in time with Grantaire’s. He doesn’treally want to tell Grantaire about his current fire issue. Now because he thinkGrantaire would make a big deal out of it, but because telling him wouldn’t makeit go away anyway and it’s just embarrassing.

“Époninelikes to tease,” Grantaire says, perhaps guessing she made a rough firstimpression. “But she clearly likes you, or she wouldn’t have let the pups nearyou.”

“Azelma andGavroche are not that young, are they?” Enjolras says. Especially Azelma doesn’tseem that much younger at all.

“Still herpups,” Grantaire shrugs.

Enjolrasnods. It’s clearly Éponine who looks after them. She seems a little young forthat, but he doesn’t know how selkie families work. They live in big herds, perhapsit makes sense that the raising of pups is a communal effort rather thanfocussed on specific parents. Suddenly his ears pick up a rumbling sound andEnjolras turns his head, frowning slightly.

Grantairemoves his ears in the same direction, grinning.

A momentlater a loud equine cry echoes across the water before being carried off by thesea wind.

“Soundslike Matéo and Judoc woke Montparnasse,” Grantaire snickers.

Enjolrassmirks. He’s met Montparnasse a couple times now. As far as he’s concerned he’snot the sort of person he’d let his siblings play with if he had any, but the imageof a couple of pups dangling from the conceited kelpie’s mane and tail is very appealing. “It’s nice meeting yourfriends,” he says, and then, questioningly: “Or are they your family?”

“Bit ofboth,” Grantaire hums. “Or did you mean literally. Cause Ponine is not fromround here originally.”

“That doesn’tmean she can’t still be literally your family,” Enjolras says. “My parents are myfamily.”

Grantairegives him a confused look.

“Foundling,”Enjolras explains.

“Right,”Grantaire nods. “Well, I have a hole herd full of cousins. Literally.”

Enjolras laughs.“You can’t have,” he protests.

Grantairegrimaces. “You’ve clearly never met aselkie family.”

This timeEnjolras snorts and to his relief Grantaire doesn’t even raise his eyebrows atthe sparks flying through the air. He’s gearing up to elaborate on the horrorsof family gatherings and Enjolras is more than happy to listen. He’s so used tobeing the one talking, it’s nice to listen to Grantaire.

[relnhart]

Tagged by @li-bot-art

—    bold  all   physical   traits   that   apply   to   your   muse.

eyes (general):   large  /   small   /   narrow   /   sharp  /   squinty   /   round   /   wide-set   /   close-set   /   deep-set  /   sunken   /   bulging   /   protruding   /   wide  /   hooded   /   heavy-lidded   /   bright /  feverish  /  sparkling  /   glittering  /   flecked   /   dull   /   bleary   /   rheumy   /   cloudy   /   red-rimmed   /   beady   /  bird-like  /   cat-like   /   jewel-like   /   steely   /   hard   /  long lashes   /  sweeping eyelashes   /   thick eyelashes

eyes (color):   chestnut   /   chocolate brown  /   cocoa brown   /   coffee brown   /   mocha   /   mahogany   /   sepia   /   sienna brown   /   mink brown   /   copper   /   amber   /   cognac   /  whiskey   /   brandy   /   honey   /    tawny   /   topaz   /   hazel   /   obsidian   /   onyx   /   coal   /   raven   /   midnight   /   sky blue   /   sunny blue   /   cornflower blue   /   steel blue   /   ice blue   /   arctic blue   /   glacial blue   /   crystal blue   /   cerulean   /   electric blue   /   azure   /   lake blue   /   aquamarine   /   turquoise   /   denim blue   /   slate blue   /   slate gray   /   storm blue   /   amethyst  /   storm gray   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   chrome   /   platinum   /  white /  pewter   /   smoky gray   /   ash gray   /   concrete gray   /   dove gray   /   shark gray   /   fog gray   /   gunmetal gray   /   olive  /   emerald  /   peridot  /   a loud green  /  leaf green   /   moss green   /   soft pink   /   seafoam   /  damaged (white/blood flecked) ((ruby / hetochromia))

eyebrows:   arched  /   straight   /   plucked  /   sparse   /   trim   /   dark   /   faint   /   thin   / thick   /   unruly   /   bushy   /   heavy / defined

skin (general): lined /   wrinkled  /   seamed   /   leathery   /   sagging   /   drooping   /   loose   /  clear  /   smooth  /   silken   /   satiny  /   fine-grained   /  dry  /   flaky   /   partially scaly   /  delicate   /   thin   /   translucent   /   luminescent   /   baby-soft    /   small pores   /   large pores   /   glowing   /   dewy   /   dull   /   velvety /   fuzzy   /   rough   /   farmer’s tan   /   mottled   /   dimpled   /   doughy   /   firm   /   freckled   /   pimply   /   pockmarked   /   blemished   /   pitted   /   scarred   /   bruised   /   veined   /   scratched   /   sunburned   /  weather-beaten  /   raw   /   tattooed

skin (color):     amber   /   bronze   /   cinnamon   /   copper   /   brown  /  dark brown   /   deep brown   /   ebony   /  dark honey   /   golden   /   pale   /   pallid   /   pasty   /   fair  /   light   /   cream   /  alabaster   /   ivory   /   bisque   /   milk   /   porcelain  /   chalky   /   sallow   /   olive   /   peach   /   rosy   /   ruddy   /   florid   /   russet   /  tawny   /   fawn   /   dark blue /  blueish-grey

face structure:    square   /   round   /   oblong   /   oval  /   elongated   /  narrow /   heart-shaped   /   cat-like   /   wolfish   /   high forehead  /   broad forehead   /   prominent brow ridge   /   protruding brow bone   /   sharp cheekbones   /   high cheekbones   /  angular cheekbones   /   hollow cheeks   /   square jaw  /   chiseled   /   severe  /   craggy  /   soft /   jowly   /   jutting chin   /   pointed chin /   weak chin   /   receding chin   /   double chin   /   cleft chin   /   dimple in chin   /   visible adam’s apple

nose:  snub /   dainty  /   button   /   turned-up   /   long  /   broad   /   thin   / straight   /  pointed   /   crooked   /   aquiline   /   roman   /   bulbous   /   flared   /   hawk   /   strong  / sharp

mouth/lips: thin /   narrow   /   full /   lush   /   cupid’s bow /   wide   /   rosebud   /   dry   /   cracked   /   chapped    /   moist   /   glossy   /   straight teeth   /  crooked lower teeth   /   gap between teeth   /   white teeth /   yellowed teeth   /   braces   /   overbite   /   underbite   /  dimples   /  

facial hair: clean-shaven   /   smooth-shaven  /   beard   /   neckbeard   /   goatee   /  moustache   /   sideburns   /   mutton-chop sideburns   /   stubble   /   a few days’ growth of beard   /   five o’ clock shadow  /

hair (general): long   /   short  /   shoulder-length   /   loose   /   limp   /   dull   /   shiny   /  glossy /   sleek  /   smooth /   luminous  /   lustrous   /   spiky /   stringy    /   shaggy   /   tangled   /   messy    /   windblown (often)   /   unkempt   /   straggly   /  neatly combed  /   parted   /   slicked down   /   tied back   /  slicked back   /   cropped   /   clipped   /   buzzed   /   buzz cut   /  curly   /   bushy  / wavy /  straight  /   lanky   /   dry   /   oily   /   greasy   /  layers   /  corkscrews /   spirals   /   ringlets   /   braids   /   dreadlocks   /   widow’s peak   /   bald   /   shaved   /   comb-over   /  thick   /   luxuriant   /   voluminous   /   full  /   wild   /   untamed   /   bouncy  /   fine   /   thinning

hair (color):  black   /   Green-black  /   jet black   /   raven   /   ebony   /   inky black   /   midnight �� /   sable  /   salt and pepper   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   charcoal gray   /   steel gray   /   white   /   snow-white  /   brown   /   brunette   /   chocolate brown   /   coffee brown   /   ash brown   /   brown sugar   /   nut brown   /   caramel   /   tawny brown   /   toffee brown   /   red   /   ginger   /   auburn   /   copper   /   strawberry blonde   /   butterscotch   /   honey   /   wheat   /   blonde   /   golden   /   sandy blond   /   flaxen   /   fair-haired   /   bleached   /  platinum (( steel blue / highlighted ))

body type: too tall  / tall  /  average height  /   short  /   petite   /  fits in a locker  /  compact   /   big   /   large   /   burly   /   beefy   /   bulky   /   brawny   /   barrel-chested   /   heavy   /   heavy-set   /   fat   /   overweight   /   obese   /   flabby   /   chunky   /  getting closer to chubby /   pudgy   /   pot-bellied   /   portly   /   thick   /   stout   /   lush   /   plush   /   full-figured   /   ample   /   rounded   /  voluptuous   /   curvy  /   hourglass (SE please)  /   plump   /   soft   /   leggy /   long-legged  /  gangling   /   lanky   /   coltish   /   lissome   /   willowy   /   lithe   /  lean   /   slim   /   slender   /   trim  /   thin   /   skinny   /   emaciated   /   gaunt   /   bony   /   spare   /   solid   /   stocky   /   wiry   /   rangy   /   sinewy   /   stringy  /   ropy   /   sturdy   /   strapping   /   powerful   /   hulking   / fit  /   athletic  /   toned   /   muscular   /   chiseled   /   taut   /   ripped  /   herculean   /   broad-shouldered   /   sloping shoulders   /   bowlegged

hands:  delicate   /   small   /   large   /   square   /   sturdy  /   strong   /   smooth  /   rough  /   calloused   /   elegant   /   plump   /   stubby fingers   /   long fingers   /  crooked   /  gloved   /   ragged nails   /   grimy fingernails   /   ink-stained / burned

Fun stuff for me to think about. I’ve had the description in my head for awhile now and never really had an opportunity to put it into words. So thanks a bunch for the tag @li-bot-art.

As for any random headcanons that never could fit into 14 itself, well. . . Genetics-wise Reinhart has 3 traits that have carried over throughout the generations of the Blanegard line. Their pupils have small white slits above and below them, which get filled in when a Blanegard taps into the Blood of the dragon, either though training to harness it, or become consumed by it via extreme duress. this gives them a more draconic appearance when doing so. The other being a natural second tone in their hair color, in his case it’s black and dark green, Possibly one of the side effects from Allagan genetic engineering done to his ancestors in Azys Lla. 

The last trait is a Runic Scar-like birthmark emblazoned somewhere on their body. In Reinhart’s case, it’s in the palm of his left hand. The birthmark gives a slight burning feeling to Reinhart while he is tapping into his inner dragon blood.

He has a couple of serious injury scars, one being from defending one of the ranch chocobos from a Coerl when he was 15. He managed to kill it mostly due being able to make use out of the echo forethought ability, But still had sustained a grievous injury from it’s claw on his right shoulder. The skin is slightly deformed due to the muscle never having healed properly. The other being a slash across his chest sustained from his fight against the Nidhogg possessed Estinien. 

He doesn’t take pride in his scars and is a little self conscious about them. Generally preferring to wear a top while swimming to hide them. He doesn’t always follow a good diet and sometimes forgets to eat, He’s a fan of Steaks, cheeses and bread, but was taught to always make sure to have something healthy to go with it. Recently he’s taken a liking to Kugane and Doman Sushi dishes and rice. This has ended up causing him to be a bit more on the slimmer side in conjunction with some training he does from time to time by himself.

His previous occupation was a farmhand and apprentice blacksmith, so his hands are pretty worn from the work that entailed. He sometimes bites his nails when bored and can’t go anywhere. Also another shoutout to @emilyplaysgames Hope this gives you a good read! ^-^

it’s 4 am and I must sleep now  (- w -)

Tagging: @anim0k @emilyplaysgames

[outlawqueenbey]

Heartbreak, Cupcakes and the Color Pink

She doesn't like the holiday. Finds the fact people need a specific date on which to proclaim their undying, overwhelming, clearly overdramatized love for one another in public honestly repulsive. It's all red, white and vomited pink every corner.

And she hates pink, so there is that.

It's even more nauseating how pent up this little town is over the festivity. There isn't a window she walks by that isn't stuffed to the brim with flowers, cut out hearts, stuffed animals, sickly sweet candy and diamond jewelry sale signs; the latter just makes her scoff with a heavy roll of her eyes. "Show someone you love them with this ring that's on sale!" It's ridiculous.

Everyone walks hand in hand, sandwiched together as though personal space isn't a thing anymore, tongues smacking against one another, trading saliva for all to see. It makes her skin crawl, the disdain painted quite clearly on her face as she makes her way down Mifflin Street, huffing a hot breath as she turns the corner. At least here there won't be any red or pink heart shaped confetti thrust into her face, or repulsive ooey gooey lovey dovey nonsense every second.

Thank God Regina is still Regina... to a degree, most certainly in love, but she hasn't yet caved into a love sick puppy. She appreciates that. The last thing she needs is more talk about this ridiculous holi— oh! Oh no! He looks so sad! Her heart drops into the pits of her stomach at the sight of curly brown hair sulking over tiny green jacketed shoulders and little turned in sneakered feet (which are new, he must have learned to tie his shoes recently). The little dark cloud of despair is big enough to have her sinking on the spot, and deciding to melt anyone who dare put this sadness on his face.

She makes her way quickly to the stone step, a bubble of rage and heartbreak swirling about her soul as she sits down, hissing at the shrill bite of frozen concrete against her jean clad thighs. She hates the cold. Absolutely abhors it. A tiny sniffle brings her back from her internal monologue of simply setting the town on fire for a bit of warmth to reality.

"What's wrong my little one?"

He sniffs hard again, rubbing the cotton woven glove against his nose, the line of snot that follows the path of his hand she'd usually find disgusting, but is rather harrowingly adorable as snowflakes settle on long brown lashes. The fat tear droplets that fall onto his cheeks spur her into gear. He doesn't even relent as she tugs him into her lap, wrapping the cream cashmere coat around his front, securing them back to front, hugging him in tight enough so that she may rest her chin on his small, trembly little shoulders, watching the way little fingers begin to play with her royal purple scarf. He smells like leaves. Warm spring air and crisp leaves. A welcomed aroma compared to the stench of forest his father's skin is soaked in. How Regina can sleep next to that stink is completely beyond her.

"C'mon now. Why the crocodile tears?"

"Crocodiles don't cry, Mal."

She huffs indignantly, a bit put off by the fact her normally hidden attempt at humor, that usually has a smile cracking into his dimpled cheeks, has failed rather spectacularly. He doesn't even shift when her fingers find the spaces that typically send him into fitfuls of squealing laughter. God this is depressing. "Did something happen with Regina?"

He shakes his head.

"What about your papa?"

Again, it's a no. The same goes for Henry, and the rag tag group of Merry Men. Nothing seems to be wrong, but yet, here she is, inhaling hard, cold frozen breaths on the Mayor's steps, hugging a tiny toddler who has completely stolen her entire heart and being. It's then, as she is rocking them back and forth, she spies it. A small white card with a cartoon bumblebee holding a heart, the scrawled "Bee My Valentine" curled around the edges. It's absurd. Adorable. But absurd. It clicks then. Why her little one is sitting alone in the cold with tear stained cheeks and a broken heart.

"Did you give Sarah her Valentines Day card?"

His curls tickle her nose as he shakes his head no, sinks into her arms more with a pitiful little huff. "She didn't want it."

"Why is that?"

"I dunno."

"Well did you ask her to be your Valentine?"

"Yeah."

"And she said no?"

"Mhmm…."

For the love of God, if she was allowed to roast this little girl's parents for raising such an ungrateful petulant brat of a daughter, without having the entire town scolding her for doing it, by the high heavens and seven circles of hell she'd be burning down the front door before they could even answer the first knock. How dare she? How dare she reject him? It's not like she is that pretty anyway, with blue eyes that aren't very sparkly, and blonde ringlets that are messy and unkempt. She's irritating like every single child in this town, well all of them except him. He is perfection incarnate.

"So you don't have a Valentine?"

"Nope." His lip quivers, the pout becoming more than she can handle.

"Neither do I."

She feels him still in her arms, turning the brown curly head of hair around to look up at her though she deliberately avoids his eyes, forcing a painted scowl on her own face. "No one wants to be my Valentine." She sniffs with all the acting glory she can muster, "Not a single person." A hard gutted exhale, obviously fake to anyone but the little boy in her arms, extended far out into the sky. She shifts, cursing her rather frozen backside, as he squirms around to face her, cupping her cheeks in his chilly cold cotton wrapped fingers.

"Don't be sad." He coos ever so cutely, "I could be your Valentine, if you want?"

"You would?" She clutches her heart, acting it up with melodramatics, "Truly?"

He nods his head with all the determination in the world and she throws her arms about his little torso, swinging him up into her arms as she stands swiftly, spinning with over dramatic cries of happiness, pressing kiss after kiss onto every exposed piece of skin she can find, a repetitive bubbly chorus of "thank you, thank you, thank you." sung out until he is back into fits of laughter, her preferred way he always be.

"And what's going on here?"

She freezes mid swing, a flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks at the fact she has just been stumbled upon acting particularly outrageous when she is usually cut and dry with most. The words catch in her throat as the pair walk up, both trying to hide knowing, smug smiles. She will never live this down. Being caught spinning around like a table top whilst basically singing out through relentless kisses and hugs.

"Maleficent is going to be my Valentine!"

She cringes, for a half second as Robin's jaw drops, Regina's eyebrows arching high, and she doesn't even try to hide her smile now, is about to make some remark Mal would rather not hear, silencing the pair with a hand. "Don't even go there."

It's not like they listen. Especially Regina, who simply leans her head on Robin's shoulders, eyeing up the Dragon thoughtfully, "I thought you didn't believe in Valentines day."

"I don't." Maleficent barks back, trying to hold onto her last shred of fear and regality in front of them.

"You don't?" His little voice pops out questioningly, eyes suddenly horrified. "Don't you want to be my Valentine?"

"Of course I do. You are the only Valentine I want."

"I am?"

"Always, my little one." She bumps her nose to his own and turns her back immediately, cutting off the beaming, lovey grins that are being sent her way, focusing instead on the happy, bubbly giggles from her little Valentine as she carries him into the mansion.

Clearly her plan to spend this wretched holiday drunk on fantastic merlot has gone completely out the window. She is a fan of cupcakes, however, and it just so happens, her Valentine is the town's self proclaimed best cupcake maker, and she is more than ready to indulge on sweet desserts, just so long as the icing isn't pink.

She hates pink. Hates it. But loves him.

So when the confections are presented to her in the god awful hue, covered in red sprinkled hearts, she doesn't even bat an eye, just smiles brighter than the sun, hauls him into her lap as their next movie begins to play, and presses a quick kiss into his chubby cheek.

"Happy Valentines Day, Roland." She whispers secretly into his ear, only for him, sees the little smile that creeps into his face as he snuggles further down into her never ending heat. "Happy Valentines Day, Maleficent."

@trina-deckers

[naruto-oc-critiques]

be nice 2 me nerds <3

she’d still kinda incomplete, so yeh - Syn

— General —

Name: Mao Fujioka

Meaning: Genuine thread; Wisteria hill

Gender: Female

Birthday: July 6th

Age: Part I: 24-25 Part II: 27-28 

[I didn’t know Mao was a Leo. Run for the damn hills.]

— Characteristics —

Blood type: O

Height: : Part I: 5’5” Part II:  5’5”

Weight: : Part I:133 lbs.  Part II:  136 lbs.

Eyes: She has upturned eyes; almond shaped with a lift up at the outer corners. They’re the same color as burnished copper.

Hair: Layered, slightly curly hair that reaches mid-shoulder blades; she keeps it in a low, semi-messy bun with a senbon stuck through it and has some curled fringe (almost like Spanner from KHR, except looser). Dark brown in color; about the color of dark chocolate, if not just a bit darker.

Skin: Peachy skin tone with smatterings of freckles along her arms and legs.

[Realistic height and weight CHECK. Cute eyes ;) Curly hair in Narutoverse? Me likey. Also senbon is cute because ayyyy Genma is the love interest so it’s foreshadowing. :D]

 — Appearance —

Child: Shorter hair left loose, and was one of the kids that kept more of their baby fat longer so she had chubby cheeks. Simple outfit of shorts, and a t-shirt or long-sleeved top (much to her mother’s chagrin) in simple colors with the typical ninja sandals.

[What a cute kid. I can imagine Mao getting ticked off and pointing stubby baby fingers at people while she pouts with them chubby cheeks.]

Academy: Longer hair in a ponytail, curly fringe. Typically wore a grey hooded vest over a plain black long-sleeved shirt and black shorts with once again black ninja sandals. She wasn’t one to bother with colors or girly things and preferred to keep it simple.

[So much black. Too much black. You do know that blue cloth is all the rage in Konoha right? Even for emo chicken butt head Sasuke? Add one dash of color, even if it’s a small accessory. ples.]

Genin: Began putting her hair into a loose looking bun and wearing wedged ninja sandals; black. Wore a sleeveless wire mesh shirt under a long-sleeved wide-necked forest green shirt, short black fingerless gloves with metal back plates, and black tapered pants with cargo-like pockets. She wears her headband around her left bicep. Mao also began to gain a lankier form at this point.

[I don’t think a genin at the age of 10 should be wearing wedged ninja sandals. At least, if you mean wedge like a wedged heel… Also CARGO PANTS YES LOVE. POCKETS.]

Chuunin: Lost some of her lankiness for a more pear-shaped body, wedged ninja sandals traded in for some wedged boots; black with grey buckles. She still wears the plated fingerless gloves and now has the leaf symbol etched into both, so she doesn’t bother with her headband.  She keeps to the plain colors with a to the body slate-grey and quarter-sleeved mesh-lined shirt, black cargo-esque pants that tuck into her boots, and her flak jacket.

[Oooh, boots. Love. Also, I wouldn’t consider the plated gloves to be her form of identification. She should still need her headband.]

Jonin: The only real change to her outfit is that her cargo-esque pants now have red stitching. This is her answer to Anko’s needling that she “needs more color in her life”.

[Love me some Anko friendship.]

— Ninja information —

Current rank: Tokubetsu jounin [WHAT IS THE SPECIALTY, SYN. HEY.]

-Genin promotion: 10

-Chuunin promotion: 12

-Special jounin promotion: 16

-Jounin promotion: 23

Team: Team Shun (affectionately Team Idiots); Shun Sarutobi, Izumo Kamizuki, Kotetsu Hagane. [YES I LOVE ME SOME IZUMO AND KOTETSU YAS.]

Kekkei Genkai: none

Chakra nature: Earth, Water

Ninjustsu range: midrange

Defensive/Offensive type: A little of both, but more so offensive.

Dominant hand: left

Weapons: senbon and ninja wire are her favorites [wink at Genma because senbon.]

— Summonings —

Species: Tanuki

Where the summoning contract comes from: Matsuyama Forest

Name: Shoukichi

Abilities: Tanuki make near zero sound when walking, as such they are fantastic at stealing things or causing general mischief. Tanuki also have the ability to henge into people or even inanimate objects. Shoukichi is especially bad about stealing things – food is his favorite target.

Mao gains this “light-footedness” as a Tanuki contractor.

Appearance: Shoukichi is a little larger than the average sized raccoon is, and has the signature tanuki fur pattern that leaves him with darkened eyes. His fur is colored with black, varying shades of grey, and white. When he’s contemplating something (often what to steal) his head tilts to the side and the tip of his tongue pokes out.

[Obviously I like the idea of a Tanuki since we talked about it in private and I’m pretty sure I helped you come to the conclusion that Tanuki’s are great as a summons? Gaining a trait from the summons is also cute. But can Shoukichi TALK???? The real question.]

— Abilities —

Strength: Chakra control, traps

Weakness: Hand-to-hand combat. [

Taijutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Ninjutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Chakra nature: Earth, Water

Earth Release Jutsu:

Coil of Earth

Headhunter

Mudshot

Mudslide

Water Release:

Kirigakure no Jutsu [protip; just call it hidden mist jutsu. You went for english names for everything except this. Continuity. Also a tiny bit odd that a Konoha shinobi uses this technique as it is a specialty of Kiri ninja. If you really want to use it, I’d suggest having some backstory and have Mao horribly beaten by a Kiri nin who used this jutsu, therefore giving her the determination to learn it herself. Some drawback should be established.]

Water Bullet

Water Prison

Water Dragon Bullet

Also knows Wind Release: Gale Palm [please tell me she incorporates senbon into this. ;)]

Genjutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Fighting style: Mao’s fighting style is fluid, focusing on dodging and defending more than attacking and preferably done in mid to long range rather than up close. She focuses mostly on ninjutsu, minor seals, and chakra string assisted weaponry. [Chakra strings? Who taught her that?]

— Personal traits —

Personality:

Mao is a subtle antagonist, as she likes to encourage all of the crazy and wild ideas that Anko comes up with, though Mao does on occasion actively participate in mischief. She is witty and often comes off as blasé, which sometimes causes problems to arise when she meets new people. And while she may seem blasé about things, Mao is fiercely protective of all of her friends and family and is quite kindhearted – though she tends to get embarrassed when caught out on said kindhearted, soft moments. [I knew she would be like this. Damn leo’s. Me likey though.]

Once she sets her mind on something it becomes her passion, which sometimes leaves her seeming as if she has a one-track mind. She finds humor the best medicine and cover to all of her more tumultuous emotions, and as humor is part of her default character it can take someone who knows her to tell when she’s just deflecting. [Yes! Character development!]

Likes: All types of food – she loves food more than anything, tending her small her garden, naps in the sun [She must love Akimichi food ;)]

-what she likes to do in her free time: Mao either fiddles around with her chakra strings or takes naps in odd but sunny places. She also likes to read novels.

Dislikes: The period of cooking where you can smell the food come together but can’t eat yet because it’s not done, when Anko or one of the boys cajole her into serious taijutsu practice, missions in rainy humid places because it turns her hair into a monster.

Habbits: When thinking hard about something she goes through the hand signs for the alphabet of standard sign language. When concentrating on a task (a puzzle, something to do with writing or reading) her tongue will poke out of her mouth a little bit. 

Fears: Losing everyone, and to a lesser extent being alone – it makes her progressively anxious.

Ambition: To see her kids (genin) grow up and to have a family of her own one day.

— Relationships —

Parents: Yuri Fujioka and Asada Fujioka

Sibling(s): None

Relative(s): Spinster aunt Junko Fujioka [I hope Junko is truly living up to the spinster title.]

Teammates/Ex-teammates: Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane

Friends: Kurenai Yuhi, Izumo and Kotetsu

Best friend(s): Anko Mitarashi, Ashi Inuzuka and Michi

Crush: Genma Shiranui, eventually (it’s a slow thing that happens over time) [SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX]

Rival: She doesn’t really have it in her to have one, not seriously. Anko might be the closest thing.

— Background & history —

Childhood:

Mao was mostly quiet and to herself; she didn’t go out of her way to speak to people so she often drifted around among groups in the Academy. It was a melancholic truth that she didn’t really have very many friends, and she claimed what she had was enough. Though what she had was a bunch of acquaintances and her childhood friend Ashi Inuzuka and his partner Michi, who were three years ahead of her.

But it was in the academy that Mao befriended Anko – or, rather, Anko injected herself into Mao’s life. When it happened the majority of their classmates were confused at the pairing, often asking how it happened. Mao’s answer?

“Skewers, dirt, and a declaration of undying love.”

How much of that was sarcasm Mao’s classmates didn’t know. (Mao would laugh about their confusion, because all she did was offer Anko a stick of dango after the plum haired girl’s got knocked into the dirt. And after she’d had knocked the person that had wronged her into the dirt.) And it was from this point on that Mao became the so-called “devil on Anko’s shoulder”, as she often enabled the plum haired girl’s wild schemes. [Evil little Leo child.]

Genin days:

The beginning of her genin days were rough, as her team didn’t mesh too well in the beginning. Kotetsu and Izumo often ended up leaving her out without meaning to, which caused a lot of tension. Eventually their sensei, Shun Sarutobi, kicked them to the wilds and made them talk. After that they became a fairly capable team that still had some bumps to smooth over. Izumo was often forced to be team mom as well, as Kotetsu and Mao fed off of each other and caused more problems than not, or just got too off-track. They graduated a few months after the Kannabi Bridge incident, so things were still somewhat stressful.

It was on their first C-Rank that Mao’s unsure outlook on her life went through a change. A few things went wrong and they all ended up hurt in one way or another, thanks to rogue shinobi and bandits still feeling empowered thanks to the previously ended war, and their sensei too was hurt as he did his best to protect them. He himself lost an eye in the conflict. It was a wake-up call and Mao, who had previously been unsure of what she was doing since being a shinobi was just something expected of her, started putting in more effort and time than she ever had to getting stronger. Because if there was one thing she knew, it was that she wanted to protect her friends. [I LOVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTTTTTTTTTTTTTT YES.]

Chuunin days:

Mao participated in the chuunin exams the same time Anko did, and the two actually ended up fighting in the final round. Anko came out the ultimate victor in their match, but both were promoted in the end along with Izumo and Kotetsu. Apparently a great showing of teamwork during the second phase of their exams, involving transporting an “important document” to Tanzaku Gai without losing it to the “enemies” provided by the chuunin and genin corps helped push forward the promotion of their entire team.

It was after their promotions that, somehow, all members of Team Shun slowly started drifting towards the Intelligence Division. They began running intelligence gathering missions under the guidance of the brand new tokubetsu jounin, Aoba. When not on missions or training together, Team Shun worked on finding their own niche within Intelligence, with Mao initially drifting over to Cryptology a few days a week. It was due to her interest in sealing that initially had her go that way, but after a short period she eventually just drifted back to being a general member of the Intelligence Division. [Sounds plausible. Cute idea for Chuunin exam btw. ;)]

The Kyuubi incident happened about a year after the quartet’s promotions, and Mao didn’t have much of a part in everything besides helping civilians to the shelters and away from the trouble after her initial shock.

The first breakdown Mao had after the initial scare of the mission gone wrong was when Orochimaru defected from Konoha and Anko went missing along with him. Mao nearly had a come apart, with Kotetsu and Izumo having to stop her from barging into the Hokage’s office, emotions blazing. They calmed her down enough that she wouldn’t just burst in anger and Mao practically demanded to be part of a search team, declaring that she knew Anko best.

The Cell she was part of weren’t the ones that found Anko, but they did run into the team that did. Mao stayed by the semi-unconscious and in pain girl the whole way back to Konoha, and once they got back as well. It was after this incident that Anko joined the former Team Shun in the Intelligence Division, quietly at first and then with a bang, much to the chagrin of many. Mao eventually became the one people called whenever Anko became too much for them, and Mao was both amused and a little exasperated by this. [Love this and I want to read this whole ordeal in story format please.]

Around the time Mao was fourteen, she decided to try for a summons. She did this with the guidance of her old sensei and Anko, who had already been long signed onto the Snake contract. Mao’s reverse summoning brought her to Matsuyama Forest where she eventually found her way through the foliage and creatures living there to the master of the forest – the Great Tanuki Chagama-sama. After agreeing to come back to Matsuyama once a year to help with the harvest of food during the peak of the season, Chagama-sama allowed Mao to sign the contract. [What a cute little way to pay back to the Tanuki, oh my goodness, I want to read an omake about her helping harvest please.]

Tokubetsu Jounin/Jounin days:

Once both girls turned sixteen, Mao and Anko (who the Fujiokas had taken in after the Incident) moved into a cheap apartment together after becoming tokubetsu jounin. The only rules? For Anko to keep her mess confined to her room, and for her to never attempt cooking on her own. It was also at this point in time that the two joined the Torture and Interrogation subdivision of the Intelligence Division.

Mao, with the assistance of Anko, annoyed Ibiki into teaching Mao more about the sealing arts. In turn for this Mao was to assist Ibiki whenever he wanted Anko the hell away from him. Mao also eventually became somewhat of a gopher among the Intelligence Division, often being the link between Ibiki and Inoichi when they couldn’t meet with each other. [again in love with these little ideas because uhm yes Inoichi and Ibiki not liking each other???]

It was when Mao was eighteen when she first met Genma Shiranui, and that incident was all thanks to Shoukichi. The tanuki found Genma one day and snatched something of his, which eventually led Genma to Mao. He seemed really surprised when she pulled out her “box of wonders” before pulling his missing item from the pile. [YES A LITTLE EXCERPT? YES.]

(“…I think your friend might have some problems.” He jokingly eyed the creature as it scampered off, probably to snatch something else. “Might need to use some of those employee perks for therapy.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Inoichi-senpai about some therapy-no-jutsu.” Mao clasped her hands together prettily. “Would you like to be there to voice your concerns and lend your support?”

The senbon in his mouth quirked up as he smirked. “Of course, just give me the time and date, Tanuki-chan.”) [hnnnnnnnnnnnngggggg I need more.]

Later Shoukichi manages to snatch Genma’s lunch, leading the man to come strolling up once again, amused after the initial irritation wore off. Upon hearing the problem she mentioned he must have good taste, and that she owed him a meal, which he did end up taking her up on if only because he was hungry and it meant he didn’t have to pay. Though it became of bit of a normal occurrence, as Shoukichi’s favorite target for theft ended up being the same tokubetsu jounin. It was after a year of these lunches that Mao officially started crushing on the older shinobi – or perhaps that was when she finally realized it, seeing as she never offered to buy anyone else lunch after Shoukichi stole it.

When Mao is twenty-one, she takes that first step into actually making those developing feelings apparent, though it’s not quite of her own free will. Anko drags her, Izumo, Kotetsu, and a few of their coworkers out to celebrate their birthdays and Mao gets more than a little drunk. She ends up kissing Genma, though she wakes up thinking it was some alcohol induced dream. Though it’s at this point Genma starts hanging around a little more – trying to puzzle her out. And months later when it’s his birthday, later that night he kisses her –

“It’s only fair, right? You kissed me for your birthday, so I get to kiss you for mine.”

To this day he reminisces on how utterly red she turned on that day.

But, after that they begin an odd sort of teasing and flirting game that eventually evolves into the same sort of supposedly secret relationship Asuma and Kurenai had by the time Mao is twenty-four and Naruto has graduated from the academy. By this time, Mao is also a full-fledged jounin, having taken the jump the same time as Kurenai. [UHM SECRET RELATIONSHIP YES? CUTE? I SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX?]

During Pain’s attack on the village she’s a key fighter in the battle against one of the Paths. Ultimately, she ends up dead and then resurrected by Nagato - though one of her ninjutsu manages to tear the arm off of the Path that she is fighting before getting killed. [Oooh. Does she have a dramatic death? ;)]

Time skip/Shippuuden:

Mao ends up getting a genin team foisted off on her during the time skip, much to her bewilderment. She’s fairly certain it happened one night when her and Tsunade and a few others got a little too drunk – she figures it was partly Shizune’s revenge for said incident. Said team is composed of Heiwa Inuzuka – the nephew of Ashi – Kaede Yuhi, and an orphan boy named Noboru. And, much to Mao’s amusement, Noburu is supposedly Konohamaru’s rival. She uses this as an excuse to heckle Ebisu, much to his absolute dismay. [You involve so many characters who aren’t completely main and I love it? Teasing Ebisu is great and also like a rivalry about who is the better teacher is also awesome?????? I love this?]

During the time skip Mao and Genma end up getting an apartment together, which Anko still likes to complain about and tease her for all the same. Mao proceeds to pester Kurenai about her and Asuma, which the red-eyed woman takes with a grin. [Wait wait wait when did they become exclusive to all? I need answers and a description of the reactions from friends?]

By the time the chuunin exams Shikamaru was put in charge of roll around it’s been a year since Mao had her team, so she punts them towards the Hokage building without a second thought. [DID THEYSortDO GOOD???? DID THEY MAKE MAMA MAO PROUD?]

War Arc:

Haven’t finished hashing this out completely, so barebones:

The final med screenings before going off to fight find Mao pregnant.

She panics, because she’s not ready and there’s a war

Genma is also panicked, but also relieved as that means she won’t end up on the battlefield.

She spends her free time chatting with Kurenai and cooing over Mirai, as well as heckling Karin to pass the time and keep herself distracted.

Her dream under the genjutsu is getting married to Genma, and having a home constantly visited by her friends and family.

Eventually gives birth to a little boy named Nobu.

They get married some time before Nobu turns three, and Mao ends up pregnant again.

A little girl named Ritsu.

[Sorta cliche to find out she is pregnant before the battle but hey that’s shinobi life for you. And SHE DOESN’T FIGHT IN THE WAR? WHAT. NOPE I DON’T LIKE THIS IDEA ANYMORE I NEED HER FIGHTING AND KICKING ASS. YOU MADE HER SOUND SO AWESOME AND THEN BOOM ANTI-CLIMACTIC END WITH THE WAR AND NOT FIGHTING IN IT? NO SIR-E-BOB. I mean how far along is she pregnant? If she’s under 3 months, I’m pretty sure she can fight? Like if you don’t fight, you may die anyways, so why not fight? Shinobi life? Ninja way? Let’s G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!]

Epilogue/Chapter 700+:

Genma and Mao are living together happily with their two children, and Nobu’s crush on Mirai provides both of them great amusement. Mao still works in the T&I department, mostly handling paperwork and heckling the newbies. 

[Super relaxed epilogue is super relaxed because everyone who lives to the epilogue of Naruto deserves some damn peace and quiet.]

All in all; I lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ove Mao and I need her story pronto. I really don’t see many flaws with her character. Yeah, the ending was mediocre to me with the war. And yeah why does she know how to use the Hidden Mist Technique if she is a Konoha ninja? And maybe the chakra thread too but hey it’s not that big of a deal.

Final score: 9.7/10. I’m rooting for Mao. I love the small details and after going through it all, it didn’t seem like that long of a submission? But hahahaha it is. Me likey. I want more and want a story written.

Love, Dom.

[gigi-dandys-world]

completely understandable

dragons should be chubby. must i elucidate or do u understand my vision

[doodleace7]

Ah yes, steampunk dragons. Dragonpunk if you will.

dragons should be chubby. must i elucidate or do u understand my vision