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wroteclassicaly · 6 months ago

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Summary: A confession leads to unexpected heartbreak.

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, hurt/no comfort, one sided feelings, heartbreak, angst GALORE, self-esteem issues, mentions Steve’s past head trauma, insecurities on both sides, jealous Steve, mentions Nancy, best-friend!Reader w/ best-friend!Steve, and friends to lovers. This one hurts, folks!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word count: 3,985

A/N: No banner for this! Just some raw writing I did early into the hours of this morning/night, adding on some today. I wanted to try something different, so enjoy!

Note: Also posting this the day after I wrote it. Okay, lmaooooo.

“I love you, Steve.”

The words come easy to you, the courage taking years to build. But once they leave your mouth as you’re cradling his neck’s nape, playing with the chocolate curls that have grown out there, you cannot figure out why you wasted time not saying it. It’s been an ongoing thing between you two — a two year thing, in fact. Never any pushing for labels, no exclusivity. You were patient, he was giving, and you assumed you were both reading on the same page.

In a few minutes, however, you’d find out how very wrong that you were. You wished that your mouth and your legs had stayed closed around your best-friend, Steve Harrington.

It was a typical weekday, no dates planned, acting as if his last date hadn’t upset you, or that you enjoyed the one you forced yourself to go on with some guy, so that your feelings weren’t completely obvious. Sidenote: to mostly everyone but Steve, they kinda were. Steve had called you after your shift at the local Burger King, asking if you wanted to come over and spend the night. Not unusual. You always trade spending nights, rolling around on various surfaces, before enjoying breakfast together.

Intimate, casual, perfect.

Your answer was an automatic yes. A quick shower after work for you, a return phone call, and he’d gotten in his BMW, picked up some takeout, went to your door to get you, held your hand to the car, opened your damned door, and the dessert had been him between your thighs. This night in particular, it was one of pent up frustrations and desperations that had just one satiable cure. You ended up on top of Steve, his back pressed into the headboard, mutual clothes scattered all over his bed.

His shoulders became leverage, his massive palms spread out on either side of your waist, pinching the plush skin into his palming grip. Nose dusting across a defined nose bridge, caught in a cheekbone, with kisses rushed, deep, sloppily trying to stay focussed, but driven to reach that place buried inside one another.

Steve’s thighs provide a platform for you to sit upon, ankles locked around his back. He’s slippery with sweat, places you’d like to lick clean. You pull back from your cove to say it again, unable to stop yourself, going in for a kiss. You don’t think he heard, he’s humble sometimes, disbelieving in others. One hand cups his jaw, the other staying put to card through his hair, moisture pooling between your fingers.

“Hey? You still with me, big guy? I said I love you.” You’re smiling softly, thumbpad caressing his jawline. You feel it twitch, his shoulders tense.

Is he gonna cum? You know the signs. “Steve?” Something in your guts feels a little off. You ignore it.

“I know what you said. I heard you say it the first time.” He interrupts, tries to remain impassive, his hips slowing from your combined movements.

Like salt in the wound, a fresh slap to the face. No way.

“You heard me say that I love you?” You have to try one more time. He’s been hit in the head a lot, maybe he didn’t get it? He couldn’t have, right? Are you really this stupid, this dense?

You attempt to kiss him, to lay it all down through your actions, rather than your words this time, but your mouth doesn’t get the chance to meet him.

His lids flutter closed, he sighs, his face leaving yours, hands lifting off your body to wrap around your wrists, slowly untangling them from his neck. “Stop, alright?”

You feel your heart rate accelerate, your body tensing, your throat is choked with a teary panic, a bulldozer driving across your organs, settling atop you with its weight. Every single wall you still have built, they slowly shake off their cobwebs to rise from the dust, smothering you in the smoke. And he’s suddenly a very tight fit, to the point where you’re wincing, body immediately wanting, trying to push him out. He notices, one hand dropping to the side of your face. “Hey, hey. Hon —“ He stops himself, lets your nickname drop, falling back into your regular name.

He isn’t sure who that action hurts the most.

One look at your vacant expression and Steve feels as if he’s been sucker punched, that he’s the meanest version of himself he’s ever been.

He’s still inside of you, you let him into your body, you told him a sacred set of words. And this is what he’s doing to you? Hurting you to the point where your body starts to get frightened? But he couldn’t just come while you poured your heart out, he couldn’t continue like his world was normal anymore. He reaches down to wrap around his base, face wrinkling, teeth gritting. You’re so fucking tight that it hurts, his cock aches for you when he eases his way outward, dragging combined essences with him. “Let me just…” He starts, deep voice a rocky, rasp, finishing when his length is gone from your body, dripping with you onto his sheets, covering him.

Once he’s out, you’re already passed the point of overwhelming vulnerability. Your legs clamp closed, your hands cover your chest, unwillingly to wrap yourself in his damn sheet that smells like home to you. Steve is unsteady on his feet, halfway hard, but slowly softening at your nearly curled position. You aren’t looking at him, you won’t, you cannot. It’s not safe right now, because if you do, it’ll all come apart and it won’t stop. Steve is on overload in his own head, eyes sparkling, tears matted into his lash-line.

He has to breathe through his nose when he says it. It’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong. But he’s helpless, he can’t take this environment, he wants to run from you, from your words.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll, uhm… I can take you home if you get dressed.”

He’s blinking away blurry vision as he catches your wounded, tear fogged expression the moment that he’s snatching his boxers and jeans off the bed, and making for the bedroom door. He shuts it and leaves you to re-cloth yourself in silence. It’s honestly deafening, you’re not sure how you manage. Revealing your body to his room, to his scent, pictures on his wall, various trinkets, but not him. You’re shaking as you put on piece by piece of fabric, dreading having to see him.

Your hand hovers over the door, giving several pauses before you open it. You step out onto the deep carpet, plush across your feet, mashed against your toes. He’s nowhere in sight. And you remember that he took his clothing, so he’s probably getting re-dressed.

Fuck this. It’s in your brain on broadway lights, body in flight mode. You’re heading down the staircase and snatching your shoes up by the entryway, forgetting your purse in his room. You don’t care anymore, you have to get out of here, this place closing in on you like a funhouse. You shut the door as quietly as you can, then you’re sprinting down the Harrington’s driveway.

Is it dramatic? Yeah. Oh-fucking-well, you’re running on adrenaline so your body doesn’t feel the disgusting agony that’s slowly eating its way through your insides. You get about halfway and you hear footsteps approaching at high rates, your name being chanted. Steve is at your side in seconds, breathless.

“Shit, you scared me. Why the hell did you leave like that?”

Your eyes widen to give him an incredulous look, and that’s when the tears escape, rolling down your cheeks. Steve sees your disheveled state next. No purse, no shoes. Your blouse is halfway hanging off your shoulder. It’s an automatic instinct, his fingers brushing underneath the fabric, dragging across your skin as he pulls up to secure it.

You want to flinch away, but you don’t. Hurt settles in his brows. He’s fucking incredible with that question. “You aren’t wearing your shoes. You can’t leave my house like this.”

Autopilot flies in to protect you, leveling off everything else that you could say or do. There’s no anger, there’s no sorrow, there’s nothing. And that’s what scares him the most when you say, “I just wanna go home.”

He can’t stand it anymore, his natural urge to protect your safety, has him wrapping you in his arms. You still smell like his bed, like him, like love making left unfinished. Your arms remain clutched to your chest. No reaction.

He says it out loud, unknowing if he means it to you or just to himself. “We should’ve never started having sex.”

A mistake. You’re his mistake. Not his biggest. Not even a real regret.

Steve Harrington has only ever loved one girl. He’s only ever regretted one loss. He even cared more for Robin before he even went to you. Are you even pretty enough, or does he just like you because you’re friends and he’s horny, or searching for something? You’re not it, not even a morsel.

And it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do, how you feel. You’ll be stuck with that, while Steve clings to whatever he truly wants. Now you’ve lost what you’ve built with him, destroyed his safe place by becoming a cliche. He doesn’t deserve your one sided feelings.

The wheels are spinning in your head, but Steve still sees nothing in your responses, nor your reception. So he lifts his keys from his pocket to respect your wishes, his chest on fire with an acidic inferno, his head clouded with pain far worse than anything he’s ever experienced, his skull echoing with what his brain has just endured. You walk to his car without sparing a glance, feet still bare. He swallows and it just feels like piles of broken glass. He can do nothing but do what you asked of him.

He drives you to your house in silence. Steve Harrington has been sure of one thing in two years, and that’s always been you. But as he pulls up to your house, you’re climbing from his car before he can put it in park, your voice hauntingly, desperately hollow. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

And you leave him, the levee going to break once you’re through your front door, pain in between your legs to remind you the next morning before your mind does. His nose crinkles, his fingers pinching, a thin line of snot trailing out. Steve wants to say to you that it’s him who has ruined it all. That he’s so scared of those words, that he doesn’t understand how someone could love him, so he can’t let your words sink in, can’t consciously reciprocate. A coward who won’t let himself feel your declaration.

Steve Harrington’s brain, however, knows the truth.

~*~

Waking up the next morning had been a reality that neither you, nor Steve were prepared to handle. You pretty much cried yourself to sleep, whilst Steve held onto your purse and paced his floor until his feet verged on rug burn, tears blurring his vision. When he finally did lay down, his alarm went off two hours later. He woke to your scent all over his bed, still covering him, lingering even as he showered, especially in his car on the way to the store. The same car that things have happened in, and the very one that he dumped you off like trash last night, after what you’d gone through to tell him the extent of your feelings. He wasn’t functioning on a full level from the second he pulled into the parking lot.

~*~

You could still feel him, your body sore, brain picking up seconds after you opened your eyes, toes hitting the blush rug underneath your bed. Your sclera was bloodshot, burning, clouding over as you passed by pictures of you with Steve, and quite a few you’d taken of him solo, that you had on the corkboard above your desk. You’d deal with taking everything down later, unsure what you would be doing with the items. Forgoing breakfast was a given, your stomach in knots. Showering went painfully fast, leading you right into putting on your work uniform.

You barely made it three hours into your shift, headache, heartache going head to head, and your boss had noticed your discomfort, gently releasing you for the day. Only one person made everything better, but that was no longer an option. Your confession sets you free, backfiring what type of freedom you wanted to occur. It was eleven o’clock when you dock yourself into Family Video’s parking lot, relieved Steve was on his normal lunch hour. Even if you can spend time with Robin, it will help.

You can hurry, you don’t have to see his face.

Fate has other plans.

You’re helping Robin unpack some candy shipments when his car pulls in about half an hour early. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, so that’s why she’d assumed you didn’t want a male presence around. You’re honestly shocked she hasn’t clocked Steve as the mystery man she’s known about the past two years.

“Don’t worry,” she says, upon seeing your soured, slightly fearful expression. “It’s just our doofus. He’s been in a brooding mood today, probably why he’s back early.”

A mood? So you have ruined it all.

You nod, forcing yourself to stay put, immediately gaining on deep breathing. At least you don’t shake when you begin to alphabetize the candy. You can hear her greet Steve before he even gets a word in. She snatches some kind of paper bag, that you assume he brought back for her — away, rifling through its contents as she speaks.

“Dingus, you still have that bottle of Tylenol in your car?”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, wrapping him tighter than Vecna’s hive minds did. He gives a silent yes, head trying to lean around a few shelves. Fuck. Of course that was your car out front, he wasn’t just imagining shit. He’s hopeful, anxious. What are you here for? Who?

“Good. Can you go get it, please? She doesn’t feel good and she’s been helping me all morning.”

Immediate worry doesn’t cover it. You’re here and not at work, and you’re sick? Steve snaps out of what trance he’s in, eyes pinching closed and he nods rapidly. “Shit, yeah. I’ll go get it. Here, Robs. Can you take my water to her?” He hands off his half drank bottle without question, moving back outside to get the medicine.

It’s funny, the look on your face as Robin presents you with his drink. You all share off of one another all the time. She places the food bag beside her, to which you politely decline her offer for some. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t eaten, you can’t.

“I know he has cooties, but I think we’re safe.” She shoulder bumps you, trying to get a smile. When you barely lift your mouth, she goes into her version of mom mode. It dawns on her and it comes from her mouth without tact.

“Wait, is this about that mystery guy who took your virginity? The one you’ve been seeing for two years? Holy shit, did he finally commit?”

If Robin couldn’t tell how you felt about Steve, or see anything from his part, then you guess it’s true.

There’s nothing to see.

You can feel your rib cage gape open, heart falling into your ass, strangled by your intestines.

Luckily, Steve has perfect timing, appearing right in earshot as Robin reveals information you never told him. The room feels small, you feel as if you could melt into the floor, non-existent. Would it matter? You are starting to think love controls everything, after all. You’re fucking doomed.

He lets his Nikes carry him forward, bottle of Tylenol in his massive hand. He’s starting to tremble, betrayal etched into his mouth, giving away what Robin now feels stupid for not knowing. It all clicks when your moods are matched, your mixed reactions combining.

“Oh. Oh, holy fuck. I’m…” She looks at her best-friend, who is halfway seething to near sobbing, and at you, who cannot look her in the eyes. “Shit, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? Fuck. I’ll give you two a minute —“

“Steve?” Your voice is tinged with something, one that has him slightly elated that you’re vocal, and even more pissed at you. He waits, his tongue caught in his throat, about to ask you, but you’re adding on. “May I have two Tylenols please?” Standing on your feet right after.

He’s like a fucking statue, on autopilot, unmoving this time. Robin rises, plucks the bottle gently, shaking out two and drops them into your hand, handing the container back to Steve, ultimately giving his water to you. She mouths an apology, but you’re smiling a tacky, forced grin that looks as if it’s pinching your lips. She’s bound to be upset you both neglected to tell her. Keeping your mouth shut should’ve been the reverse way.

“I’ll call you tonight, Robs. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hey.” She stops you before you can step back to leave, wrapping her arms around you, maroon coated lips by your ear. “I don’t have a foot fetish, but I really should’ve kept the entirety of my own in there to avoid this.”

That gets you laughing softly, and you don’t look at Steve as you depart from her arms and for your car. He’s still frozen.

Robin does, though, stares right through him. She can see how much he’s hurting. She doesn’t want to judge either side, so she simply reaches up to rub along between his shoulder blades. “If you need to —“

“I’ll be right back.” His eyes are trained on your retreating form, handing her the pills as he follows you.

“That works too!” She points a finger in his direction, sighing. Is everyone else onto this, or is she just off her game?

~*~

You’ve just barely downed the pills, tasting Steve’s cinnamon breath spray, combined with his morning coffee all around the lid of his water. You chug it fast, your back still turned to the front door. That’s when the dumbass little bell rings, slapping back against the door, and his voice comes into play.

“You can taste my mouth on that, right?”

You remain non-verbal. This angers him to the point he steps close enough that you can smell his cologne and aftershave. His tone shatters, emotion bleeding through. “Because friends share things with one another.”

“Well, friends sure as hell don’t fuck!” It snaps free of your mouth, shocking the both of you, plastic crinkling in your hands. Your head is hurting, between your thighs is aching, and you’re positive that a piece of your chest has been carved out.

He’ll always have that, whether he wants it or not.

“They don’t lie about being a virgin, either! They don’t say that it’s been a while when they’re in pain and I’m fucking asking what’s wrong the first time that we have sex! If I would have known, then it would’ve been—”

“Wouldn’t have happened, so I didn’t build some little attachment to you, right?”

Steve visibly recoils.

“Is that really what you thought of me? That I was still that big of an asshole? Because we were already pretty attached. I did everything with you, you practically lived at my house.”

“If you didn’t have a date. Maybe it was just sex, me and you. Still doesn’t answer if you found me attractive. Probably just biased because you were my friend.” Word vomit. Too late to stop now.

Steve mulls over the meaning of were. Past tense? Does it apply to current?

His hands go onto his hips, a sidestep, and he turns back to look at you in astonishment, having to swipe aggressively at the wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to begin with everything you just said. His brain is screaming to tell you that no, he’s always found you fucking beautiful. That he would have preferred you over all of those dates, or any that he’s ever had for that matter. But he’s so confused about letting anything in, his tongue becomes tied, only able to get out one lame question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

When your gaze flickers up, you see he’s snarling, but there’s tears clouding his vision. You’re a little lighter in how you speak to him, dismantling your armor. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser, I didn’t want our first time to be about that, I didn’t think you would want to… I didn’t mean to — I’m sorry, Steve.”

He marvels. You really thought that? Did he not express his care for you?

“I would’ve made it better for you. Fuck, were you even okay after it happened?”

His moral compass is extraordinary nowadays, and it does make you hesitant, but you let your fingers cup his cheek. “It was the best. You were the best. I wanted it to happen with you. And it’s something that I would never take back.”

Your teeth start to chatter, your own tears forming. You want to console further, to wipe away his. But you start to let your hand slip. Steve catches it, holding your fingers in his palm, wrapping his digits around to lace. His deep voice drags along each syllable, crooked and wet with emotion. “Please let me hold you before you leave?”

And god, do you want to. You’ve never needed anything more. But if you let him… You just refuse to put yourself into that place right now. You shake your head, replacing your hand with his water bottle. His tongue pokes at his cheek, he shakes his head, attempting to argue. He closes his fist around the plastic.

“I meant what I said last night. And I realize that I ruined everything, Steve.” He can’t speak, why isn’t he able to disagree, why is it like he’s drowning, running in slow motion?

“I just don’t know if it can be repaired.” By the time you slide into your car, hand over your face, arm propped to your steering wheel, body heavy into your seat, Steve finds himself worked up to the point that he can’t bear to be around you, he can’t watch this, his figure pivoting, and he returns straight into the store, booking it to the break room.

~*~

After you’ve cried for what feels like forever, embarrassing yourself, light headed with guilt, you don’t end up driving yourself home, unable to do it in this state. You make your way to a pay phone to call Nancy. How fucking ironic. What’s worse, is that she can’t make it, you find out, as Jonathan Byers pulls up in her station wagon, letting you know that she’s sorry, but she got a call back to her job. You assure him it’s fine, grateful another friend is here, at least, joining him.

He doesn’t press you. But he knows. He’s one of them that pegged it from the start, he and Nance both.

“You okay?” Is his gruff question.

“Yeah, I just have to go home.”

He says nothing else. But what neither of you see, is Steve Harrington, as he’s just getting to the doorway, regretting his decision to not go back once he realized you didn’t leave, unable to stand you being that upset and not trying to do something (if he could) — watching the affection Jonathan Byers extends your way, and your rejection of any reluctance to accept it. His amber eyes are smoldering, his fist clenched, every muscle rigid, heart rate firing off rapid shots.

“Steve…” Robin tries, folding in beside him, seeing his dismissal of logic, his brain switching, latching onto primal panic. “You’re at work, remember? Video tapes, acne covered boss?”

But he’s throwing off his vest in response and striding towards his car, ignoring her pleas.

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thechurchoftheradiodemon · 5 months ago

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Salutations to all of you, gentlepeople!

I love making lists, so I'm gonna update my Radioapple fic recs. All of these feature great aspec representation (non-sex repulsed Alastor for the nsfw ones), great writing, great characterization and amazing storytelling. I've fallen down a rabbit hole called Hellaverse and Radioapple and I can't get out, so I'm hoping to bring all of you with me.

I'd love to read more good fanfics, so feel free to recommend your favs in the comments, please!

Lucid dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple . Heartbreaking, fluffy, beautiful, and amazing setting, writting and characterization. It might be becoming my favourite. Human AU (kinda), and deserving of so much love.

Of Saints and Sinners by @morningstarwrites . No list in the Radioapple fandom is complete without this. I don't think I need to write why it's great, everyone knows. The fun, the fluff, the lightheartedness, and fantastic writing skills.

Strange Apetites by GotllPhi. Human Alastor AU, gorey, sexy (nsfw), surprisingly fluffy and intense. The characterizations are on point and the storytelling is *cheff's kiss*. It's on hiatus while the author is getting married, but still a must read.

Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship series by @keelywolfe . Another nsfw one (much more so), but amazingly done and with great aspec representation. Beautifully written, intense and the story is just hooking. Also, the RadioApple Standalones are a very fun read, the sfw and the nsfw alike.

I shine only with the light you gave me by @soot-and-salt . This one is just a one-shot, but it shot through my heart. Gorgeous short story, great rythm and development, I fell in love. They have a series called We should've been enemies which is also fantastic (and nsfw), very sexy and intriguing, and still developing!

Lolm by @radioapple-heathen . It's only one chapter so far (and marked Explicit for the future of the fic), but it got to me. Fun shenanigans, a pet snake and a shared hatred for technology. It's very well characterized and nicely written.

Eat your Heart out by @seducipher . Modern human AU, nsfw and very addictive. It's still going, but it was a fic a binged in one night. Good characterization and nicely written.

Bedtime Rituals to try out before the next Angelic War by @miribalis . A very cute, fluffy and domestic fanfic that I can't recommend enough. Very well written with amazing characterization, and it's completed!

@notherpuppet 's Human AU series. Another fandom classic, but, again, no list is complete without it. In love with their artstyle, their story and their characterizations. Fluff, fun and shenanigans galore!

I still have too many saved for later that I'm thisting to read, so this list might expand in the future.

Also, if you'll allow me, this is for the spanish speakers: I wrote a short fic (2 chapters), Primavera en Nueva Orleans, that takes place during Alastor's last year alive and after Extermination Day. I'm selfpromoting here, but check it out 👀

Thanks for reading, don't forget to like and comment on your favourite creators' works 📻🍎

Stay tuned!

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extant-exhaustion · 10 months ago

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Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "extant-exhaustion "?

Well, first of all, thank you so much for your patience! I know it took me seven weeks to reply to this Ask! I agonized over my list (also, the holidays happened, which kept me busy). But I finally narrowed it down, so here we go, in no particular order:

My Top 10 Favorite Fanfics

died in my dreams by MTrash Haikyuu!! | T+ | 10k | Ushijima/Tendou | futuristic/cyberpunk AU, opposites attract, reluctant work partners to friends to lovers | fantastic characterization, really cool conceptually, a story about trauma and healing and finding your person

Come and get lost with us by boxofwonder Haikyuu!! | M | 150k | Hinata/Kageyama, Daichi/Sugawara | action/adventure, Medieval AU(?) | unlike anything I've ever read before or since; a really masterful integration of an enormous cast and a plot that unravels with absolutely zero fluff or filler

A Second Chance To Say by KazimaKuwabara/@kazimakuwabara Yu Yu Hakusho | M | 92k | Yusuke/Kuwabara, Youko Kurama/Kuronue | action/adventure, hurt/comfort | ft. Kuronue's eternal sass and unwavering friendship, the slow burn of reincarnated already-in-love KuwaMeshi (because Kuwabara doesn't remember it), somewhat menacing levels of intrigue, and Hiei finally winning MVP of emotions on Team Urameshi

Don't Blink or You'll Miss It (Lift Up Your Head) by umisabaku/@umisabaku Kuroko no Basuke | M | 81k | Kagami/Kuroko, Kasamatsu/Kise, Midorima/Takao, Himuro/Murasakibara, Aomine/Momoi | super powers | This story and its accompanying series are so cool and so unique. The characterization is amazing and the worldbuilding is stellar.

neither fish, flesh, nor foam by twoif interactive on Twine Kuroko no Basuke | Kagami/Kuroko | angst, Little Mermaid–esque, interactive storytelling | incredible, but also devastating; a story about how sometimes our doubts can destroy not only ourselves but the good things we build; one of the coolest things I've ever interacted with as a story, a true tour de force

Transient Shadow, True Light by seafoamist/@seafoamist Kuroko no Basuke | M | 322k, WIP | Kagami/Kuroko | angst, hurt/comfort, time travel, historical (Edo Period) | If you talk to me about this story, I will go absolutely feral, because it is my current obsession and the only WIP that is on this list. I'm straight-up insane about its quality and depth. I can't even put this story into words. It knocks the wind out of me.

And lastly, my URL doesn't actually have a story behind it! It's basically just my life, haha. “Extant” is an adjective meaning “ongoing/still in existence” and “exhaustion” is pretty obvious. Essentially, I like alliteration and thought it sounded better than "tired 100% of the time."

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pamwritessometimes · 2 months ago

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Pam’s masterlist

Fandoms I currently write for:

🤍 Supernatural

🤍 The Boys

🤍 Tracker

🤍 Walker

🤍 Big Sky

Soldier Boy (Ben)

1. British Invasion (Soldier Boy x British!fem!reader)

Summary: Soldier Boy is forced to attend a gallery opening for an emerging British artist, expecting nothing more than a typical evening of pretentious small talk and overpriced art. But when he gets to know the artist herself, he quickly realizes they might share more than one thing in common.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (be smarter), pet names, some 60s slang, breeding kink if you squint, terrible writing, AmE and BritE use is varied based on the characters

2. pov: you make an Instagram profile for Ben (Social Media AU)

3. Part two of making Ben an Instagram account (Social Media AU)

Beau Arlen

1. Fridays are for beer and heartbreak (Beau Arlen x Reader)

Summary: Your favorite patron’s there to mend your broken heart.

Warnings: none? oh, maybe that English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Sam Winchester

1. What he doesn’t know (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Summary: You’re hiding two dangerous secrets from Sam. Little did you know, he’s just uncovered one, but it’s not the one you think.

Dean Winchester

1. Roots in my dreamland (Dean Winchester x Forest Spirit!Reader)

Summary: Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

Loosely based on ivy by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (bring protection with yourself, yes, even to a forest), P in V, being naked in the snow, fingering, crack ending, grammar mistakes galore.

Russell Shaw

1. Tuesday’s Gone (series) (Russell Shaw x reader)

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

💌Requests are open💌

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a-court-of-lust-and-stardust · 6 months ago

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“Azriel is a freak!!!!!”

“SJM said Azriel is the freakiest bat boy.”

I genuinely hope to God people aren’t expecting BDSM levels of sex because the most SJM might make Az do is eat Elain’s ass. Or stick it in her butt.

(I’ll be here for it. I love a good ass eating. I love booty sex. But if folks are expecting bondage and somno and roleplay and dildos galore, they are gonna be severely disappointed I think. However, if I am incorrect, I’ll still be happy either way.)

(Also, I don’t even need nor necessarily want raunchy shit. Gimme the sweet, soft, slow love making. Gimme tender moments of them just holding each other and talking about their passions and insecurities and fears and hopes and dreams. Heated kisses. Gentle touches. Quiet exploration of bodies. Mutual love and understanding of who they are as people. Real, raw, passionate, earth shattering, heartbreaking love. THAT is really what I want.)

#azriel shadowsinger #elain archeron #elriel #azriel x elain #pro azriel shadowsinger #pro elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel and elain #azriel shadowsinger x elain archeron #azriel #elain archeron x azriel shadowsinger #pro elain

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bigolbard · 1 month ago

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A lot of immediate thoughts about Legend of Vox Machina EPs 7-9. Spoiler galore. Get outta here if you haven't watched yet.

Did not like the song choice at the end of Ep 7. This is probably hit or miss personal preference, but felt very tonally disconnected with what was happening in the scene.

THE MOTHERFUCKING CERBERUS ASSEMPLY HOLY SHIT

I'm shocked that they didn't resurrect Percy before fighting Thordak. Genuinely shocked. I have no strong feelings about it from a narrative standpoint, but that's a massive change and just...a lot to chew on.

I didn't like that they changed the tone of Grog's "Fix him" line. That line is iconic, and I'd bet most people have that in their Top 3 most emotional moments from C1, and Grog's forceful tone is the entire reason for that. Changing it just...didn't land for me.

And also Scanlan isn't even dead? Just...in a coma? I don't know how I feel about that change -- it'll probably be dependent on how the last three episodes go.

Vex's coversation with her father was heartbreaking and beautiful and holy fuck Laura Bailey, goddamn it.

Ripley still being alive after Thordak is dead is a very interesting change that I currently have no strong feelings about, but will probably have more feelings about when the season has concluded.

I have two thoughts about Pike Trickfoot. Thought number one is that I don't love this whole "actually her power is intrinsic and not from the everlight" thing, but maybe I'm just misreading where that'll go. Though number two is that every single scene with Pike is either beautiful, hilarious, or the most fucking badass thing I've ever seen in my life. Seriously, she got the Divine Nuke in S1 and now she gets the Dawnmartyr Plate power up scene? Girl, save some badassery for the rest of the team!

I assume the last three episodes will be one devoted to killing Ripley, one devoted to killing Raishan, and one dedicated to resurrections and fallout. However, I have no idea what order that will happen in. On one hand, it's very hard for me to imagine them fighting Raishan without Percy or Scanlan. On the other hand, this batch of episodes changed enough narratively that I no longer have any idea what is and isn't off the table.

I still believe this season will end with Bard's Lament, but given that Scanlan hasn't made his promise to Kaylie yet, I'm...ever so slightly worried about how it's gonna be handled and if they're gonna stick the landing. I have faith, I'm just slightly nervous. There's a lotta shit left to tie up in three episodes.

Killing Kashaw sucks, but I don't hate it. Especially if it gives us a reason for more Zahra in Season 4.

Rest in peace, Lance Reddick. You were fucking amazing as Thordak, and I'm devastated you're not around to receive your deserved praise.

#legend of vox machina spoilers #legend of vox machina #lovm s3 #lovm spoilers #critical role #scanlan shorthalt #raishan #thordak #percival de rolo

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stars-and-the-min · 7 months ago

Text

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (9) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n reunions galore!

masterlist | last part | part 9 | next part

INSTAGRAM

chrisyamada

liked by eb_jonno and 482,492 others

chrisyamada was on stage w/ the aussies again 🎸 tagged: emptybottles_official

lukaszhang don't come for my job man ↳ chrisyamada @lukaszhang i can't handle lina for extended periods of time dw about your job security

ceciliapham THEY DID THIS FOR ME AND ME ONLY 😭😭😭

piastri_lina now if i didn't know any better, i'd think this was a soft-launch... ↳ piastri_lina @piastri_lina know ur place christopher yamada

oscarpiastri

liked by selinabui and 213,284 others

oscarpiastri Race week recharge 🔋

pi4str1 convinced that if oscar was to open an oscar.jpg account it would just be all lina

selinabui ur so hot do u have a gf ↳ oscarpiastri @ selinabui yeah sorry 🫤

piastri_lina boyfie looking boyfie, wifey looking wifey, what is a girl to do 😭😭😭

logansargeant ask her if we can talk again ↳ selinabui @ logansargeant U TOOK ME SERIOUSLY??? IS THIS WHY I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM U???

TWITTER

�� pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h wait i asked a lina question OH MY GOD PLS PLS PLS CHOOSE THE LINA QUESTION ↳ Williams Racing @ WilliamsRacing · 2h Find out when the episode drops 😉 ↳ jess @OPIXSTRI · 1h OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE ↳ Williams Racing @ WilliamsRacing · 1h Don't die just yet

YOUTUBE

INSTAGRAM

selinabui Shenzhen, China

liked by oscarpiastri and 264,938 others

selinabui my own kinda home race? tagged: eb_jonno

eb_jonno *OUR* home town performance ↳ selinabui @eb_jonno my bad bro why did u think i tagged u

oscarpiastri How do you still suck at bowling? ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri wdym i won ↳ cameliazzz @ selinabui no you didn't???

pi4str1 same top as the one in oscar's post? ↳ marie_h.sb @pi4str1 pls they think they're so subtle 😭

linasgirl4 SINCE WHEN SELINA. SINCE WHENNNNN ↳ linasgirl4 @linasgirl4 i'm going fucking feral i need to know how long they've been together for my mental health ↳ emptybottlos @linasgirl4 calm the fuck down it's not that serious

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 1d dude are u kidding me? ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 4h she still got that :] energy 🥹

camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 21h I CAN'T BREATHE I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SAW JONATHAN SU AND SELINA BUI LIVE IN THE FLESH AT THE SHENZHEN FENDI POP-UP ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 21h i'm not alive i have ascended to a higher plane

president linami @ linaminami · 16h try not to say mother challenge failed. she looks so good wtf

INSTAGRAM

emptybottlesbar

liked by cameliazzz and 332,974 others

emptybottlesbar Jonny and Lina at the Shenzhen FENDI pop-up store. Did you manage to catch them? tagged: emptybottles_official, selinabui and eb_jonno

selinabui wtf are we pokemon or smth??

eb_jonno was i not photogenic enough, i'll work on it ↳ emptybottlesbar @eb_jonno You were very handsome 💚 ↳ eb_jonno @emptybottlesbar well that's a very nice way of saying i look bad in photos

2cami4lina I DID CATCH THEM AND IT WAS SPECTACULAR

TWITTER

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h oh ttpd, oh how 2021 lina coded it you are ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h i need a lina x i can do it with a broken heart edit STAT

emme @flowersforcami · 42m oomf said i can fix him (no really i can) is super lina in her tommy era coded and i can't unhear it now

↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h @urdaisea baby girl this is for you 😭 ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 44m HOW ARE THEY SO QUICK OH MY GOD IT'S HEARTBREAKING

oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 33m it's only been like a day since it dropped but i've already been blessed with a so high school oscalina edit the lord is good 🙏 ↳ jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 30m i wanna be on ur fyp bc i've gotten two 'you look like taylor swift' edits of olivia and lina and it's been depressing

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h lina's stories perfectly encapsulates my april 19 experience, she's the chairman of the swiftie f1 girlie department ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h side note she used one of those oscar gifs from f2 and it's so endearing

INSTAGRAM

selinabui just posted to their story

trans: brother yu (she uses the fish 'yu' and not zhou guanyu's actual 'yu', again, it's a pun) is awesome!

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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blueaetherr · 1 year ago

Text

half-life

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): angst, gotg3 reference (?)

summary: the one where we witness jude and y/n's love for one another falter over time and its aftermath

now reading: the sun is also a star by nicola yoon

in love, [half-life] is the time it takes for lovers to feel half of what they once did

Somewhere in the flower field, a setting graceful and niche in presentation, a space that ran for miles and miles with shades and styles in every foot and inch—somewhere in all of that, there was Jude and Y/N.

They were simply lost in the mass of everything, of all there was around them. Lost in their shared thoughts and reality, lost in the company one was able to give the other. 'Cause even though they were surrounded by such vibrant colours, wildflowers galore and nature itself, they instead chose to focus their sight on each other.

"For you," Jude said after he had crafted a flower crown as he held it out to his partner.

Tilting her head, her lips welcomed a grateful smile. Y/N took the delicate creation with care and support. Y/N observed it as she spun it between her fingers. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."

"I didn't but I wanted to." His words were spoken as if his intentions had been so evident.

"Alright, alright," she let out a breezy laugh, matching the evening winds. Soft and mild. Considering Jude's love languages were a mixture of giving gifts and acts of service, she shouldn't have been surprised. Suddenly, she frowned. "I didn't make anything for you though."

His eyes wandered their greenery surroundings before suggesting, "Pick something from the grass at random for me."

"Okay, let's see..." Inhaling a small breath Y/N reached her hand into the grass and when her hand came up, there was a four-leaf clover in her grasp. Her mouth fell open as a few laughs escaped. "Shit then. My gift to you: good luck."

"I mean this is amazing," Jude chuckled as he accepted the clover. Then he shrugged, "But I think good luck has already come my way." It was only uncomplicated words he spoke yet it had Y/N flustered and shying away from her partner's gaze all while grinning wide—happy, and that in itself by default made him happy too.

12 months into the relationship and this was the couple at their peak.

The two, and the relationship itself, were one's favourite love song, the living proof of true and ideal love and stood tall and proud with the foundation of love at first sight. They were feared by heartbreak, refreshing love cliches and in essence simply beautiful and inspiring and wonderful. That was Jude and Y/N.

Taking adoring pictures, pronouncing corny yet adoring words to one another, sharing their looks of affection when the other wasn't aware—this was them at their personal best and from there, they could only falter and fumble after that.

They were 18 months in when the cracks in the relationship began to appear in their eyes. In the privacy of their home, between their family and friends, in their messages. It was slow and steady yet they were for sure drifting, and drifting, drifting away from one another. It was subtle at first, like when their schedules began to not match up so they couldn't see one another that much, or getting in and out of bed at different times so they spent less time together.

But they were okay with that; it was an irregularity they were bound to face in their relationship. And there were a plethora of ways to manoeuvre around their problems, like talking on the phone or messaging when space was between them or when they weren't in arms' reach of one another.

But then the messages calmed down and calls were being missed, going to voicemail until they were eventually declined by the receiver. The explicit messages were the first ones to go, and they continued to fall flat until only essential calls were left between Jude and Y/N. And even when the two individuals were in arms reach of each other, when they were under the same roof at the same time, when they could share close and personal dialogue—they chose not to.

And like the calls and the messages, their conversations let up over time. Everything began to diminish in quality and quantity: conversations, bedroom interactions, movie nights, inside jokes, shared dinners and breakfasts in bed. They never noticed, they never had the chance to really, but they unknowingly slipped below the status of both a couple and roommates all at once so quickly.

They were 21 months in when the cracks grew more and more prominent and public. Y/N attended fewer games while Jude attended fewer work parties. Fewer dedication posts, fewer sighted outings together. The pair—as individuals—began to barely speak about one another to their families and friends, uncertain and wandering speech whenever they would.

And because it became so public, because Jude and Y/N used to be so public and open and suddenly now were significantly nothing, everyone noticed; the change was visibly discernable. There was concern, honest worry for the two. Though always would the two shrug it all off and reassure everyone by saying all would be good in the end, not knowing what the end actually entailed for them in future months.

'Cause Jude and Y/N just kept escalating, faltering, and stumbling away from one another as the months passed. 1 month, 14 days, 7 days, 3 days, 1 day until they amounted to absolutely nothing. It had been an internal battle. They felt what they could—that adoration, desire, attraction, affection—they loved what they could until they couldn't anymore.

They spiralled, completely spiralled until they were nothing, and there was nothing they could have done to stop it. Without noticing they simplified devastation in their relationship. They were the earth after a monumental asteroid, knocked off their axis and forced into oblivion.

"We're a bit tragic, aren't we?"

It had been quiet for a while. Not only between the two but also in the coffee shop they were settled in, seeing as closing time was near and hardly any customers but themselves were present. Still, they welcomed it almost as if the two had forgotten how to speak (and maybe they did). So her voice came to him as a surprise when she narrowed the silence between them.

Jude came out of a short daze and dialled his attention back on the person sitting across from him. He tuned back into Y/N—his now ex-partner—who was stirring her coffee order waiting for his response.

"Tragic?" He exhaled and leaned back in his place and tilted his head. Not only because he had to think about it. They were having one of those conversations again. The ones that were beyond depressing and sad to entertain. "A strong word that, but yeah... We're a bit tragic."

He looked away as his chest fell. There was a sad smile on his lips when he finished speaking. Y/N shared how he felt, nodding with pursued lips because it was overwhelmingly true.

After they broke up some months ago they chose to remain friends, civil and familiar. They were able to be friends with no problem or hassle. Still, that didn't cancel out the fact that they were indeed tragic as one.

A quick glance at their relationship revealed the hardships Jude and Y/N experienced together. They were forced to break apart so prematurely and there was little to no one to relate to. What they had initially felt for one another hadn't been able to withstand the demands of fate and the universe. While they tried and tried and tried countless times, they couldn't exactly recall the reasons why they fell for one another some years ago.

For those reasons and many more, they were tragic.

"I don't know if it's just me," Y/N started as she placed her spoon down, "but I always try to pinpoint where it kinda went all wrong but I'm always lost about it."

"I just try not to think about it, to be honest," Jude sighed, drained and hopeless.

By now he had accepted that he and Y/N as a couple had been a lost cause. The distance between them who they had been and who they were now was too wide to bridge. Just like Y/N couldn't pinpoint where everything had gone wrong between them, he had been doing the same before their break-up, when they had started to slowly unravel. Months have passed—years—and still was Jude uncertain as to how they fell apart so he just left the subject alone for his sanity.

He didn't acknowledge it that much but according to others around him, the weight of the break up fell on Jude's shoulders more than it did Y/N. He was the one who opened up the possibility of a relationship; he was the one who had pursued Y/N, had asked her out and eventually asked her to be his girlfriend. Being the more emotional half, the more vulnerable one had others feeling like Y/N was the first one to fall out of love.

Jude could've reacted when he had first heard that judgement though chose not to. One, their relationship was over so what good would an answer actually do for them? Two, just like his past lover, he too fell out of love with Y/N. Why antagonise her for something she couldn't control, an action he too was guilty of committing?

He cleared his throat as he lifted his eyes away from the table. "But I do try to at least imagine what we were like." Imagine, not remember. If he tried to remember he would fail. To imagine came with no defeat and all creativity; he could wish upon all he wanted and leave out all the bad of their previous relationship.

Her eyes brightened as they widened, interest prevailing in her voice. "Oh, really?" It wasn't rare to have positive talk between them. Not everything they spoke about was sad and depressing. What was rare was positive talk regarding their past together.

"Yeah. Not all the time, though," Jude sat up straighter in his place, rubbing under his nose. "Just when I want to wonder a bit. I don't talk about it with anyone anymore—I haven't for a while really—but I spoke about us with my mum the other day, like last week or whatever. I asked about it 'cause I naturally get curious and she told me some stuff."

She carefully gripped her hands around her mug, despite her coffee having gone cold by now. "And what did she say?" Y/N asked in a soft tone.

"She said... she said a lot. She said after I first asked you out on our first date and you said yes, I was so excited and obsessed with you—in a good way obviously. I asked her about when I first told you I loved you and she mentioned I was so happy and excited and kinda just in love that she was scared that I was going to go too fast, like propose or something." The corner of his lips curved up as they shared a small laugh together. Despite their distance, they were able to reminisce on something they no longer held feelings for.

"We spoke a lot about how I was with you and everything and after all that I asked about you, how you were to me... and she didn't have to say much because and I quote, the same way you felt about her was the same way Y/N felt about you, Jude."

Soon, Y/N became animated as she offered Jude a teasing look. "So what I'm hearing is that we were soulmates?" Even if it was a question in literal terms, it almost came out as a statement. Y/N wanted to believe they were soulmates beyond their losses.

"I think we were so much more than just soulmates," Jude suggested. From a shy smile it grew into something wide, happiness reaching his eyes perfectly. "Soulmates, best friends, in-between people for others. And I want to believe we were fun and cool and real."

Even though Jude and Y/N couldn't remember what or how they felt for one another once upon a time, they still had a clear chain of events of their relationship, and still had an understanding of their favourite activities and hobbies together. From that they could come to their conclusions.

"We still are." Not that she wanted to believe that but rather Y/N knew that was the reality. Beyond their depressing and sad conversations every few weeks, they would have fun and cool and real times.

They still enjoyed listening to music together. They still played video games together. They still found comfort and rest in having conversation with two coffee orders with the dessert special of the day at their favourite coffee place, always sitting at their designated table—with Jude facing the entrance—that even some of the staff members recognised to be theirs. All those activities and events happened all time post-relationship, just without those lingering feelings.

He hummed in agreement. "We still are," Jude said, satisfied and happy. He was satisfied and happy knowing that this wasn't just a sad and depressing conversation they were having; they were also able to share some happiness and understanding during their routine meet-up.

Jude and Y/N shared some easy conversations, exchanged songs and music tastes, discussed their favourite people, hot gossip and personal life with no fear of judgement seeing as they were given the time and space alone together in the final open hours of their favourite coffee shop.

It was a wake every time they would meet up; they would pay their respects to their dead relationship, reminisce about it if the collective mood was moderately neutral, comfort and support one another where needed, reflect on the relationship and life in general, shed tears or laugh then say goodbye when it was all said and done.

But there was also a celebration aspect to it. After everything, after the universe and fate had screwed them over with false hope of a flourishing relationship, after losing the ability to feel for one another romantically, Jude and Y/N were still friends. Not too distant or best friends but friends. They were friendly and comfortable and civil to one another, and that was okay with them; that was all they needed to move on together and separately.

Maybe they were right after all. The love was still there, unconditional just within reason. Whether together or not, Jude and Y/N were soulmates and would always be.

part 2

#jude bellingham #jude belingham imagines #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham oneshots #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black!reader #black!reader #football imagines #football fanfiction #football fanfic #football oneshots

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sunrisemill · 8 months ago

Text

♡ The little things ♡

Summary: Matt has always been pressured to live up to his father and everything that he expects him to be. Y/n has always been very quiet and has been pressured by her whole family to step out of her comfort zone and live her life free from her worries. What will happen when they unexpectedly run into each other at a random ice cream shop?

(Warnings: Toxic family members (Nothing happens though dw it’s only mentioned)

Pt.2

(Matt’s POV)

“You want me to leave?! Fine then, I’m done dealing with this shit.”

I shout out across the house before slamming the front door behind me.

This is the third fight we've had this week.

Ever since my dad found out I've been ditching classes he's been on my ass about everything.

So what? I skip a couple of art classes. It's not like it actually matters.

The thing is my dad is a stern man. Ever since I was a child he told me that I needed to learn how to be a real man.

So that means I shouldn't ever talk about how I feel. I should just suppress my emotions, so I do that.

The only downside is that my emotions come back up in bursts of anger that I can't control.

It's not like I want to be this way, it's the way I've been wired since I could remember.

But the truth is I’m scared.

I’m scared that I’m never going to escape these emotions.

Everyone is going to forever know me as the miserable grump, Matt Sturniolo.

I wish I could change it around but nobody gives me the chance.

Maybe… when the opportunity arises I might have a chance, but I know that's not true.

As I start to spiral into worse thoughts, a hot pink neon sign in the shape of an ice cream cone catches my attention.

I find myself squinting my eyes as I try to make out the letters.

“Gelato Galore”

No way they’re being serious…

GELATO GALORE?

That's ridiculous but I might as well try it, all I want is to be alone and what better place to be alone than an ice cream shop during winter?

I step through the door and I’m instantly overwhelmed by the bright colours, I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of pink.

It’s everywhere I look!

As my eyes dart around they land on the only person in the shop besides the workers.

It’s a random girl and she seems upset, I feel like I know her from somewhere but I can’t place it.

The way she looks is something you could only describe as a depressing portrait made by a struggling artist, her hair falling in front of her face as tears roll down her cheeks.

The redness on her nose matching the small cherry on top of her sundae that she seems to be refusing to eat by the way she pushes it aside.

I feel a strong urge to check up on her but I don’t know if I should. I’ve never been good at helping people in need.

I sigh as I walk up to the counter. Whatever she's going through is none of my business.

~~~~

(Y/ns POV)

I let out a couple of sad sniffles as I push the little maraschino cherry that's on top of my ice cream to the side.

He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago…

I keep telling myself that he must be stuck in traffic or maybe he's just running late and I'm overthinking it all.

I've been repeating all the different scenarios in my head and reasons why he could be late.

My nails impatiently tap against the pink plastic spoon they gave me, I feel as though I’ve been here for hours when in reality it has only been around twenty minutes.

Why can’t he just call me or even text me if he’s running late?

That's when I see my phone light up on the table. I quickly pick it up and I'm met with his contact name.

As I read the message he sent me I could physically feel my heart drop, all of the hope I had was crushed within a second

“I can't make it.”

What the fuck? No sorry? No explanation? Nothing.

I can't believe he could treat me with such disrespect.

I feel like such an idiot…

I sigh in defeat, I place my phone down on the table and dive straight back into my ice cream to distract myself from the current heartbreak I'm feeling.

As I scraped some ice cream from the bottom of the tub, I noticed that the chair in front of me had just pulled back and someone had taken a seat on it.

“Hey, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I couldn't help but notice that something seems to be bothering you. Is everything okay?”

what? I lift my head and I'm met with the sight of a stranger.

But he's not really a stranger, It appears to be Matt Sturniolo.

Although I have seen Matt at school and around the small town that we live in, we don't necessarily run in the same social group.

I sigh as I sit up straight and put down my now-empty ice cream tub.

“I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it.”

I look back down at the table, silently praying that he goes away but he stays.

“So…you a fan of ice cream?”

His small voice catches me off guard, I’ve never heard him talk with such little confidence.

Every inch of my body screams at me to get up and leave. To ignore the boy sat opposite. To run straight back to my room and rot in bed. Run back to my comfort zone.

But I hear my mother's voice ringing throughout my head.

“Come on, Y/n. You're not going to go anywhere in life if you don't put yourself out there. Just try it once, you might be surprised by what could happen.”

So I swallow every anxious feeling screaming at me to leave.

“Yeah. I mean… who isn't?”

A small smile on my lips. I lift my head to look at him, noticing the corners of his lips curled up slightly.

~~~~

I feel a peaceful smile tug on my lips, the scent of cold crisp air filling my senses.

I've always loved the winter. It has a sense of comfort that has always overwhelmed me.

I feel myself dipping deeper and deeper into a state of tranquillity when suddenly the boy next to me speaks up.

“You never answered my question earlier.”

He peers down at me. I sigh.

“What question?”

I know what question he's talking about. I've been asked the same question for years and I've grown to become annoyed at it as I grow older.

“I asked you, why are you always by yourself? Don't you have any friends?”

I tense up and he notices. He stops walking and grabs my wrist, forcing me to stop in the middle of the pavement.

“I'm sorry…”

I watch as his face contorts into a remorseful expression. His eyebrows knitting together.

“I didn't mean to come off as rude. It's just… I've seen you around school and you're always alone, I'm curious.”

I sigh as I look away from him. This is the last thing I need right now. I don't need someone here pointing out stuff that I already know.

It's frustrating. I tug my wrist out of his grip.

“Why don't you… oh, I don't know… mind your business.”

My tone is filled to the brim with annoyance. The way his face falls causes a twinge of guilt to seep into my heart but I push it down.

“Look, I'm just trying to help.”

He speaks through gritted teeth.

That was my last straw.

Without saying another word, I spin around on my heels and walk in the other direction. Completely ignoring the sound of his voice calling out for me.

So much for trying to make a friend.

(A/N: omg this literally took me weeks to finish 😭 I’ve been having an INSANE and extremely frustrating writers block but she’s done 😋 thank you so so much for reading <333)

Tags: @guccifrog @junnniiieee07

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 1 year ago

Text

Reunited

Word count: 3.1k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit Smut, Fluff? (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: Here's another fic that was on ao3 for like a day because it flopped so I deleted it. Let's hope it doesn't flop here too. 🫣😅

Summary: You have the honor of being one of Christine's bridesmaids at her wedding. But when you notice a certain person has been invited, it brings back heartbreaking memories.

You woke up with a soft, little yawn. The warmth and comfort of your bed were addicting, your soft pillows far too inviting. But you had to get up. There was no time for sleeping. The day ahead was big. Christine – one of your good friends – was getting married. And Christine had been kind enough to offer you the role of one of her bridesmaids. You were honoured by the gesture.

You sat up in bed, eyeing the bridesmaid dress that was hanging on the door handle of your wardrobe. It was a gorgeous dress, and you couldn’t wait to slip into it. You jumped in the shower, did your hair and makeup, and put on the expensive dress. Nodding at your reflection in the mirror, you then made your way to the church. Soon, Christine would be a married woman, and you would be standing right there by her side.

There was a crowd already forming around the old church building, but one person stood out in her flowing, crisp white gown: Christine. Your heels clicked on the cement as you ran up to the other woman.

“Christine, you look so amazing,” you said in a shocked whisper. It was the truth. Christine looked stunning.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N,” beamed Christine. “So do you. I’m so excited for today. The day has finally arrived.”

“It’s gonna be such a good day,” you nodded.

You, Christine, and the rest of the bridesmaids stood there talking, with time passing by quickly. Soon, it was time for Christine to walk down the aisle and marry her soon to be husband.

Lining up with the bridesmaids, you sucked in a sharp breath, ready to enter the church. The music suddenly started, the doors opened up, and you heard a few gasps. There was a bridesmaid in front of you, and you quickly followed behind the other woman, taking slow steps with Christine not far behind you. Your eyes scanned the crowd, noting all the happy faces. You noted that Christine’s family were all the way at the front wearing teary smiles. The groom’s family was on the opposite side of the aisle, also with wet eyes. But it was the man a few rows up that really caught your attention. You could have sworn you almost went stiff right then and there.

It was Stephen Strange. Just the sight of him was enough to make your heart race. Christine and Stephen had been together many years ago. He was the man you used to spend so many days training with when you were at Kamar Taj. He was the man you had very quickly grown to love. He was the man you had kissed that night, after a hard day of training, when it was just the two of you all alone in the library at Kamar Taj.

But… He was also the man who had completely and utterly broken your heart. And ever since you shared that wild, heated kiss in the library, he seemed to want nothing to do with you. Stephen had been avoiding you ever since the incident. And because of that, you left Kamar Taj, the action breaking your heart in the process.

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to focus. You looked ahead, so desperate not to see his face. You just walked down on the aisle, focusing on your job as a bridesmaid. That’s what you were there to do.

You took your place at the front of the church, watching on in silence as Christine and her future husband exchanged their vows. It was a wonderful moment that was sealed with a kiss. The crowd cheered, celebrating the new husband and wife.

Life was good for Christine and her husband.

******

You sat alone in the reception room. It was beautifully decorated, with food and drinks galore. There was so much to do and so much to celebrate, but you sat by yourself, sipping on an almost empty wine glass. You let out a sigh, hating that all of the old memories of you and Stephen had hit you like a truck.

Looking up at the crowd, you spotted a beaming Christine. And you just had to ask. You needed to know why she invited him.

“Hey,” you greeted her.

“Hi,” Christine smiled. “Sorry, I’m trying to be a good host and mingle here and there. Just trying to talk to everyone. Are you okay?”

“Why… Why did you invite Stephen?” you asked quietly. You were straight to the point, so eager to understand.

Christine shrugged. “Well, it was mostly my husband’s idea… Why? What’s the issue?”

“Stephen… Stephen and I had grown really close before. I thought there was something between us. We kissed one night. And it was such a wonderful kiss. But after that, it was like he forgot all about me. He stopped talking to me. He got all cold. I don’t know what I did to offend him. He… He really did break my heart,” you sighed, your eyes shutting as you felt an ache in your chest. “And seeing him here is hard. I’ve been upset ever since I saw him in the church. I still love him, Christine.”

Finally opening up your eyes, you watched as Christine sent you a kind, warm smile.

“You should go talk to him, Y/N,” Christine said.

You gave your head a furious shake. “No way. He probably wants nothing to do with me. He’ll just break my heart again. I don’t want to deal with that all over again.”

“Y/N, stop being so silly. I bet that Stephen was just scared about loving someone. You won’t know until you talk to him…”

The advice wasn’t bad, but you had yet to move. You stood there, biting at your bottom lip, contemplating what Christine was telling you. Could that have been true? Was Stephen just scared? If so, why didn’t he just tell you that instead of completely breaking your heart?

Christine let out a loud sigh. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him then.”

Christine moved far too quickly for you to even tell her to stop. You looked on with wide eyes, watching the back of the other woman’s head. She made her way to Stephen who was at the bar, by himself, slowly sipping on a drink in his hand.

Biting at your bottom lip, you watched as Stephen and Christine talked. You so badly wished you could read lips – or minds. They both stood there, talking to each other for a good five minutes. Then finally Christine walked away, making her way back over to you. Eager to know what they discussed, you opened your mouth to speak up, but Christine simply walked past you, a bright smile on her face. Following the woman with your eyes, you just watched as Christine made her way to her husband. You slowly turned, wondering what on earth had just happened. What did they say to each other?

“Y/N,” a voice said from behind you.

Stephen’s voice. You didn’t have to turn around to know that it was him. You knew his voice so well. Turning around slowly, you were met with Stephen’s dark eyes. You weren’t surprised to see that it was him. It was your first time seeing him up close in such a long time. As usual, he looked good. Too good. You weren’t sure if your cheeks were flushing red as you looked at him.

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Y/N…”

“Hi,” you replied, your voice quiet and laced with nervousness. The room suddenly felt so warm.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. And yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been doing alright,” he nodded.

You were certain that it was the end of your conversation. That you were going to exchange quick pleasantries and be on your way and then never speak to one another again. It was quiet between the two of you, the silence rather uncomfortable. You wondered how long you would have to stand there, taking in his eyes.

“Can we talk?” he asked you.

Deep down, you were screaming out no, certain history was going to repeat itself. He was going to break your heart and leave you in tears. But you still loved him. Loved him with everything in you. Of course, you were going to talk to him.

“Yes,” you let out with a whisper.

It took just seconds for the change to happen. You heard a sizzle in your ears, the music and noisy conversations suddenly fading as you were met with quietness. You had shut your eyes during the madness, and when you opened them you found yourself in the New York sanctum. All alone with Stephen.

You looked around the space, wondering why he had brought you back there even if he just wanted to talk. It would have been a lot easier to have a conversation there.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen suddenly said with a heavy sigh.

You finally looked at him. At his wet eyes and furrowed brows and his tightly pressed together lips. It was obvious he was upset. That he was sorry about something.

“What are you sorry about?” you asked him quietly.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” he admitted. “After that night in the library. And Kamar Taj. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Tears quickly formed in your eyes. A fresh wave of pain hit you. He was admitting. Acknowledging what he had done. And it was like experiencing the heartache all over again. You hated the feeling. Hated that you couldn’t control your emotions – but he had hurt you so much.

“You broke my heart,” you told him softly. “That’s why I left Kamar Taj. I figured you wanted nothing to do with me after that…”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured back to you, that look of pain still on his face. “I was so scared.”

“Scared of what?” you shrugged.

That was when Stephen took a few steps closer to you. He eyed you intensely, staring at nothing and no one but you.

“I was scared to love someone after what I had done to Christine. I had been a complete jerk to her. I hurt her. I completely blew it with her all those years ago… I was so scared that I would lose you too, Y/N.”

The tears started to fall after that. You could no longer hold them back. Why couldn’t he have just told you that before? You wished he had. You could have worked it out, could have talked about it, could have fought for your love for one another.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me you were scared?” you whimpered. “We could have just… We could have just figured something out.”

“I was scared you would have just left me…”

Shaking your head, you made sure to say your next words clearly. “I wouldn’t have just left you… Because I loved you.”

Stephen leaned forward, his warm, trembling hand cupping one of your cheeks softly. He used his thumb to wipe at your tears, rubbing at your skin as he looked at you. “I know… And I love you too. Maybe… Maybe we can figure this out again? But this time… together.”

Smiling at him with wet eyes, you nodded. “Yes. Of course. Yes, yes, yes… But… Why have you suddenly changed your mind?”

He smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling. “Christine told me not to be afraid of letting someone love me. And when she said that, I realised that it was you that I wanted to be with.”

Beaming up at him, your heart started to race when Stephen moved in, closing the gap between you. He pressed his lips to yours softly, and it took you just seconds to kiss him back. It was as wonderful as you had imagined in your head. You wrapped your arms around his back, and Stephen mimicked your motions, pulling you up against his own broad chest. You stood there kissing, your tongues slowly dancing together, with Stephen slowly guiding you toward his bed.

You both landed on it, your lips still attached, with a soft thud. You were growing wetter and wetter with each heated second that passed, your hands running up and down Stephen’s back, wanting to feel all of him. You felt exactly how you felt when you used to train together at Kamar Taj. You felt that need, that want, that hunger.

Pulling away from his lips with a gasp, you and Stephen both looked at each other with dark eyes. The room had grown hotter, and you knew then and there that you wanted more.

“Please make love to me,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“Are you sure?” he sucked in a sharp breath.

You nodded. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

He smiled at you, his eyes twinkling again. “Okay.” Leaning down, he gave you another soft, slow kiss before getting off the bed and standing up.

You were about to pull off your dress, but you let out a shocked gasp when Stephen waved a gentle hand in your direction, and then a second later, both yours and his clothes had been removed.

You licked your lips at the sight of his bare form, watching as Stephen got in the bed and crawled over to you. Spreading your legs open, Stephen got in position between them, giving you a long kiss. When he pulled away, he looked down at you seriously.

“Are you sure you want this?” he wondered.

“Yes,” you moaned. You had never been so sure of anything in your life. “Please fuck me. Please, please, please.”

It took him just a second to make his next move. He pushed into you, filling you up with his cock. You moaned at the sensation, loving the new feeling of him stretching you out. Stephen grunted above you, and you fell in love with the noise.

He didn’t move. Just stayed there with his cock pushed deep inside of you. But then he looked down at you, eyes ever so dark.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Please move, though. Please. I wanna feel you.”

He listened to you. He began to pump in and out of you slowly, soft grunts escaping his lips with each movement. You joined in, letting out your own noises of pleasure before you pulled him in for a quick yet passionate kiss.

“You’re so big,” you whispered against his lips. You kept whining as he thrusted in and out of you, but you needed more. “Oh, please go faster.”

Once again, he listened. The tip of his cock met that sweet spot deep inside of you, forcing a shrill cry out of you.

“Oh, Stephen!” you squealed, wrapping your arms around his back. You scratched his back, letting pleasure take over. The sounds of your moans mixed in with the noises of skin slapping skin. That was all that could be heard in the bedroom: the sound of the two of you making love.

Stephen kissed you for a moment, his moans loud. “You feel so good.”

“Please don’t stop,” you begged in response.

“I promise I won’t. God, I promise I won’t stop.”

He kept moving, kept taking you, and you looked up to watch him closely. He was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead. You were certain he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You couldn’t help but kiss him, and he kissed you back, your tongues dancing together for a long moment.

“Please fuck me harder,” you pleaded when you pulled away from him. “And faster. Please.”

Stephen lifted himself up, his big hands on either side of your head, a look of total darkness in his eyes. He looked so serious, so lost in lust. And then he pumped into you exactly as you had asked: hard and fast, his movements so wild and quick. You cried out his name, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Reaching down, you held the warm covers tight, pulling at them as you moaned. He kept fucking you, and with each and every thrust, you found yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. Your orgasm was blossoming; it was just seconds away.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined. “Please don’t stop!”

He nodded down at you, fucking you harder and faster and deeper, giving you every inch of his cock. It was with one hard thrust that you lost it, your orgasm hitting you suddenly.

“I’m cumming!” You came around his length, coating him with your juices as you squealed. It felt so good. So hot. Your pussy was gushing around him as you lost it, drenching his length.

“I’m so close,” Stephen muttered, still pumping you full of his cock. He was grunting above you.

“Mm, please cum inside me. You can do it. It’s safe. Please,” you whimpered. You were slowly coming down from your high.

It took Stephen just four thrusts into you before he lost it. He came with a deep grunt, emptying himself inside of you, your pussy milking every drop from him. Licking at his lips, he kept moving, kept giving you his length and every last rope of cum he could give you. Then he pulled out and collapsed right then and there on top of you, the both of you breathing hard and fast. You had to catch your breath.

It took a moment, but Stephen rolled off of you and pulled you to his chest. He stared down at you, his eyes focused on your own.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Stephen gave you a bright smile, and you both leaned in close, sharing a sweet, soft kiss. You nuzzled into Stephen’s chest, loving the feeling of his arms wrapping around you tighter and harder. He felt so warm, so cosy. He felt like home. You were beyond happy to be there in his bed, in his arms, having just made love to him. More importantly: you were happy to just be with him, and you were especially filled with delight after you had worked things out and could finally be together.

“So, do you plan on coming back to Kamar Taj?” Stephen asked in a hopeful tone.

You looked up at him, staring into his blue eyes. “I’ll think about it, but I think you owe me a few dates and more of this before I make a decision,” You smiled, teasing him.

Stephen chuckled, and your heart soared from hearing the sound and finally seeing him happy and relaxed around you. “Deal.”

You smiled at him again before leaning in and kissing him softly. He kissed you back before you pulled away. “I love you, Stephen Strange.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Stephen told you.

You shared one final kiss before you fell asleep in Stephen’s arms, happier than you had ever been in your whole life. It was the ending you had craved for so long, and you finally got it.

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cheyisagirlkisser · 1 month ago

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Ellie's Angel: Prologue

Ellie Williams x fem! reader fic

Summary: Ellie Williams knows how the world works. She knows that grief is all too real. She knows all the obvious atrocities surrounding her, past and future. She loses hope. She feels like a blank slate at rock bottom, eyes dusted over with an inexplicable wave of grief as she watches Abby's boat depart. She couldn't avenge Joel, no. She couldn't continue the cycle of violence. The story was always meant to be the same, with Ellie returning to the farmhouse, left with bittersweet memories of her past. But that's the game, and you're in this story. You're her angel, if you will. Only condition is, even love can't ease the healing journey. It only makes for one interesting fanfic.

Rotting and burial. Birth and survival. Everything was tied to the situation at hand like a noose in the far distance. People were all living in a bubble that was bound to pop in one wet burst. All of the people who loved one another, who had family members, they didn't expect it. Who could expect such atrocities?

Born into it all is another thing. So far away from the simulation, the ignorance of the near future was the previous generation. Ellie was born into it all firsthand. Yes, there were blurred lines upon what was taken for granted and what was natural. All of those big-time celebrities on screen who sold their soul for a dollop of fame and riches. Ellie knew, of course. She saw the mold on the walls where names were lined. She walked past the curvy mannequins, the enticing words.

All that they had was a bubble popped by one fungus. One fungus wiped out the fame. It wiped out the family dinners, the Thanksgiving turkeys, facebook posts. All that they had was advancements.

All that Ellie had was loss. Grief, it circles around you until you snap like a taut string. Pulled each direction until your thread swindles away. Now, she was on some journey.

A journey to find herself?

A journey to seek revenge?

A journey to destroy?

A journey to heal?

It's a page in her journal she wishes she could extend upon, but she didn't know exactly what she was doing in California. The coasts were serene, rocky shores with waves for miles upon the eyesight. It was almost sweetly sore. No, she couldn't think of what led her here. Only feel. It was like she was a prodigy, a chosen one who demanded peace. Thing was, peace came at the price of bloodshed.

She would find and kill every last one of them. The past reflected in the scars on her face and her lover's. Unexpected miracles, the gift of life, of survival. She took it as a sign for more, and she kept living. That far-off farmhouse with a baby she could fabricate with her own affection and care. Really, she was fabricating a lie.

Ellie watched as Dina smiled countless days, dinners shared like nothing was about. Like her love wasn't destroyed in a matter of weeks, like everything was fine. Countless sleepless nights, tossing and turning on a mattress she should've been grateful for. Wearing clothes folded with love, folded with adoration for her. All by a girl who gave her all for Ellie's being.

Ellie was selfish down to the sickening tremors in her bloodstream. She was as sick as they come, she felt. She only saw the carnage in the mundane. It felt like fabricating that same bubble all over again, and she only waited for it to pop.

So, she grabbed her things and stabbed through. It was like overkill, really. The heartbreak she caused, the family she split in a guilted sense of vain. It was her own feelings that were wrong, not the life. It was like the manipulation of one's own soul, and Ellie was tired of pretending.

So, here she was on sandy beaches galore. She had an address to go off of and a feeling deep inside of her chest driving her. One thing is always certain in Ellie's world and in the previous generations: feelings are an essence that was real. It was never what they called the advancements period. Feelings will threaten to either nurture or burst the bubble. Always will Ellie burst it.

Serving justice was one thing, finding the strength to serve it is another. Ellie felt that she had all the strength in the world, like a girl with iron fists and a dream. But memories plagued her mind and seemed to burst that bubble as well. She found her reason for revenge, the girl whose name she'd mutter under her breath like the reversal of a prayer. Yet Joel, the memories, they took it all away from her in a flash.

The bubble popped and she was left with nothing but grief. Feelings, they're overwhelming fuel that drives the human body to frenzy. Bodies are temporary and don't seem to compliment in the mind in an apocalyptic world.

The story's already written, the plot devised into the bitter end. She's left alone, and what she should be grieving is the loss of her two fingers. She should be grieving the headache, she should be mourning a few wounds.

The plot all ends the same with a girl and a guitar in hand, a flashback and the credits. But. There's always a 'but' to a plot-twist that changes a character's perspective on loss, creatures a new sea of thoughts to tread the surface of. All of the plot is changed by you.

Your nimble fingertips pawed at her heart while you sewed up her gashes. Adrenaline was soaring and all she seemed to envision was a light. Eyes squeezed shut and yet you were blinding. It hurt to open up, but you shook at her until she was conscious. Then and there, you offered her a path the games wouldn't have given her. Her angel.

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #poetic #abby the last of us #the last of us part 2

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bucknastysbabe · 2 years ago

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Forget me not or I’ll forget myself - Aegon II x Reader

And I pray that all the poppies they.

They will just fade away.

But fields of poppies they remain.

That's how they found me last time, dead

Rozz Williams - Flowers

Rating: Mature/Explicit

A/N: I just wanted a glimpse into how dreary the keep was before all things went to real Hell

Tags: Angst galore, burned Aeg after rook’s rest, younger sister reader, one sided love, heartbreak, handies, Poor Aeg, TW: opium usage, extreme pain, burns and blood, Helaena’s mental state, self harm, dub-con, mistaken identity, Alicent tries, sad ending

Alicent would let you finally enter Aegon’s quarters, where he laid asleep. She wouldn’t let you see him when the maesters were tending to the burns, the cries of your dear brother’s agony filling the halls.

Then silence. The silence frightened you more than anything. Helaena couldn’t comfort you, you could barely comfort her in her massive grief. Alicent and Aemond had to tend to the war. Ser Criston had joined them.

So it was just you and your two handmaidens, who had been shrugged off recently as you had become agitated. You couldn’t leave the keep and you worried for your dear dragon. Instead you wept and waited and wept, listening for his voice.

You had a betrothal but the recent upheaval had rendered it moot. You were glad because all you ever wanted was Aegon, flawed and irresponsible as he was. A Maester shuffled by and you hopped up, hands nervously tearing at your dress.

“Yes princess? He is stable, just bringing some sustenance and more milk of the poppy after I change his bandages.”

“The Dowager Queen said I may sit with the King, sir.”

The man held out an arm for you to grab, murmuring gently, “This will not be a pretty sight m’lady. Our king is holding strong but, ahem, dragonflame has done its damage,” the elder Maester paused, “Mayhaps you can hold his undamaged hand while I change the linens?” You nodded vigorously, heart beating faster and faster.

A Kingsguard silently opened the door to the dimly lit room. It looked much different than when Viserys was there. The replication of Valyria your father worked on was moved to underneath the keep at the behest of Aegon.

You could see Aegon’s form on the wide bed, covered in oozing bandages, his arm tightly wrapped. The Maester shushed you, “Quiet now my princess, he is in a delicate state.” Holding a trembling hand over your mouth you followed the short Maester, who directed for you to sit on the other side of the bed.

Aegon shifted and mumbled, half of his gorgeous face covered in linen. You hoped it wasn’t as bad as Viserys had become. The gaping holes, gnashing teeth.

“Sire, it’s Maester Merand, I’ve come to change your linens for Orwyle. Your younger sister is here.”

A bloodshot purple eye hazily regarded you. He rasped, lungs and throat still charred from fire, “Dear sister, you don’t need to see this. Please.” You shook your head and grabbed his scabbed but not severely burnt hand, squeezing. Your breath came out a warble as you tried not to cry, “You need family big brother, let me stay please?”

He regarded the Maester, then back to you, “Hold me tight songbird.” Hot tears streamed down your face as he opened his mouth for a bite to be put in, hand gripped roughly around your smaller one. Another Maester, younger, shuffled in to assist with a wooden table of sorts.

Merand hummed and dosed Aegon with the milk of the poppy through the bite-piece, your brother’s body immediately going lax with a soft moan. The elder Maester said, “Be still and hold him, that is all your King needs.” You nodded, more tears staining your ashen cheeks. They unpeeled the yellowish bandaging, Aegon’s body stiffened as he began to howl— purple eyes wide with pain.

His hand shook and trembled you putting your other hand on top and shushing, “Shhh, it’ll feel better after, gods bless you.” He screamed louder as Merand rubbed a balm on the burnt flesh of his cheek, ear and neck. The scarring ran twisted hot and angry down his torso.

“Just fucking kill me you beast!,” Aegon hissed through his bite. His hand hurt yours but you bared it for dear Aegon.

Your brows furrowed as they patched up his body and head. Aegon writhed in pain when they unwrapped the arm, the worst from what you had heard. Metal fused to flesh. You held back a retch at the sight, eyes blown wide, unable to stop staring at the blackened twisted flesh.

“Gods please! No more! Strike me down for my sins, anything other than this,” he raged.

Still you held on. The younger Maester had to come and hold him down as Aegon jerked around so much. Your brother hissed, cursed, and wept by the end of the process. Merand gently lifted him up into a sitting position, you moving to follow along. They had to get his back and shoulder now.

Then it was over. Merand dosed him with some healing herbal concoctions and a hearty amount of milk of the poppy. Aegon sobbed softly, tears staining his new bandages. You stroked away a tear on his new cheek as the man began to fade into those dreamless poppy slumbers.

“May I stay Maester Merand?,” you asked.

He fiddled with a chainlink before humming, “I don’t think you would be causing any issues. My assistant will be back for supper. Just let him rest and be there for your king.”

The table, sounds of metals clinking, and shuffling stopped. Only the burning of the wooden wicks and Aegon’s ragged breathing filled the room. His hand was still intertwined with your own, but loosened from sleep. You pet his silver hair, singing the songs he used to demand from you over and over again, drunkenly smiling like you meant the world to him.

“Sing songbird sing,” he’d cheer, cheeks rosy and full lips split into a grin.

Your lips trembled as you cried over him, eventually falling asleep when you grew numb from it all. They awoke you and him for supper, letting you spoon feed Aegon the soup. He said in a slurred murmur, “You’re too kind songbird. Didn’t you..have..have a betrothal?”

“War broke out remember? No time for a wedding and I have a dragon.”

He frowned slightly. Aegon slurped softly and swallowed. “Right..I’ll find you a husband when I feel better. It’s much less…the word..uh…lonely when you’re here. So that will wait.”

Your heart hurt. You didn’t want to be married, but the chance of having him was impossible. You’d just spend the time you could while he healed, pretending to be the dutiful wife. You stroked his soft hair and hummed, “Would you like me to sing you a tune to sleep? I have your poppy milk.”

He sighed, “Please.”

Off he slumbered, to the tune of The Dornishman’s wife. His favorite bawdy song. You wept again. You wondered if that’s all you were capable of now. For now you’d go and change, bathe, actually see your handmaidens before returning. Hopefully your mother will be absent so she couldn’t see your wrecked state.

Feeling more refreshed, you stared at your lilac eyes in the mirror. Much lighter than Aegon’s, but your hair was the same, soft waves of white. Cyrella wove your locks into pretty braids. You’d decided to go see Helaena today, since your other lady Jaina had informed you the Dowager Queen was in Aegon’s quarters for the changing of his linens.

Climbing to her chambers you could already hear maddened weeping. You knew Maelor and Jaehaera were largely taken care of by a Septa and wetnurse. Coming into her room you gasped. It was a mess, shredded and priceless items broken. Helaena, her once gorgeous hair— a rats nest. It smelled of unwashed linens and sickness. Sickness of the mind.

“Hel? It’s me, your sister.”

She peered at you with wide purple eyes, red rimmed and shot out. She murmured, “Sister.” Then returned to rocking by the window. You drew closer to her, slowly, eventually kneeling by her side. Helaena only wore a stained shift, dirtied and bloody. You noticed the claw marks on her wrists and sucked in a breath.

“Hel?”

Your elder sister stared forward, mumbling incoherence about blood and cheese cheese and blood blood blood! She shouted the last part at you, making you topple backward some. You grabbed her arm and held tight from her thrashing and wailing, pinning her grief stricken figure to the ground until she stilled.

Helaena howled with agony, “I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, it should’ve been me! Jaehaerys forgive me!” She cried in hoarse agony, shaking underneath. You let her cry until she softly moaned her dead child’s name. Petting her skinny side you murmured, “Let me draw you a bath, okay? Just one. Then I will leave you be.”

She nodded, “Okay.”

You scrubbed her scabbed body, taking care to clean and remove any dirt or budding infection. Helaena stated, “I can’t get clean. It’s under the skin. All of us. Foul blood.” Ignoring her statement you worked on Hel’s scraggly hair while a handmaiden clipped sharpened nails to the nub. It would at the least stop the severity of the wounds.

Helaena’s hair was falling out in thick chunks, you holding back tears as you got her blonde waves back into order. Your elder sister asked, “Will the gods forgive me?” You patted her back and hummed, “The Mother knows your pain, she will take mercy on you. That I know Helaena dear. Let’s get you to bed.”

The room was cleaned and bed changed while you took care of the queen. She stated in that glassy way of hers before you left, “Thank you. The walls will bleed black and scorching sister.”

An uneasy feeling settled in your gut. Hands clenched in your dress you walked through Maegor’s Holdfast, going to see Aegon for the night.

The regal frame of your mother exited as you approached the chamber. She eyed you strangely, but pulled you into a hug with a deep sigh. “It’s horrid around here mummy,” you whimpered. Unbidden tears fell down your cheeks as your mother held you tighter, letting you cry it out.

“All I can do is cry. I feel so alone and half of my family is here mum.”

Her brows furrowed in distress, slim hands on your arms. Alicent said, “You’re doing the best you can dearest. I’m very proud of you. Tending to Aegon, he mentioned you singing to him.”

You smiled gently, but grew teary again.

“I visited Helaena. Washed her and got the room changed. I fear she may…do something drastic mummy. Sh-she’s clawing at her skin, saying she can’t get clean.” Alicent kissed your forehead, hands clasping slim shoulders. “You and Daeron. My sweetest babes. I’ll have to install someone for Helaena. The gods smile upon you and I will pray for your pain. I love you, so, so much. Go be there for him.”

You nodded shakily, hugging your mother again for what felt like forever. It was a temporary balm for your aching soul. She left, presumably to your sister’s quarters. You entered to Aegon who was hazy and trembly after what seemed like a fresh change of linens.

You clambered onto the huge bed, checking Aegon’s face for discomfort. He was barely awake, nodding off in short bursts. His lash’s fluttered over his face. The king murmured, “Oh, it’s been so long. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So long since what my King?”

“I’ve been held, touched, caressed,” he listlessly rambled.

His good hand, already intertwined with yours, drug it toward the bulge between his legs. Aegon cheerily slurred, “S’at red bitch didn’t burn it.” You inhaled sharply, eyes widening. He wanted you to pleasure him? You were a maiden. Aegon’s eyes remained closed but he shot you a dopey grin, “C’mon jus’ a hand will you? Know it’ll be good.”

Your nethers twitched and you looked around like a spy may arrive any second. Oh how you wanted this for life. Aegon wanting you, you only. The guilt for Hel ate at your spine, but lust won out.

“Yes my king, I’ll take care of you.”

“Good girl,” he rasped, head swaying. They must’ve messed up the dosage, Aegon was strangely semi-coherent. You knew there was slick involved in this carnal action. Turning around you found something labeled “aloe” and poured it onto your left hand. Your cheeks began to grow darker at the task at hand.

“Quit bein’ a maiden, M’ready sweets,” he cooed.

You batted his good hand away and unlaced his breeches, pulling out his flushed cock. You whimpered under your breath. It was ruddy and leaking, for you, for you! Hastily you covered the stiff member with your thickly slathered aloe and squeezed tentatively, unsure what to do.

Aegon arched a bit and huffed, “Y’know what to do, playin coy, squeeze and pull, twis’ on the head. I’m burned nuh’ impotent!”

You did as he asked, your hand squelching luridly as Aegon panted and moaned softly. You felt as if you were burning up, an inquisitive hand coming down to cup his heavy sac, his voice growing deeper and more needy.

“There we go, good baby, yesss, yes.”

He was biting his plump lip when your twisting hand focused on the top, liking the way he’d subtly whimper when you’d slide a thumb across the pretty crown. He gasped, “Fuck yes, ah, who brought you up here? Gonna cum!”

Brought you up here? He was delirious, whatever.

“Please my king, come for me,” you begged, so eager to receive his affections. His right hand curled into your waves, pulling you close to his mouth, sharing light kisses, gentle as not to irritate. He panted into your mouth as his cock twitched and spurt onto your hand and his belly.

“Oh, fuck, Selys, Selys baby, thank you. Whoever brought you to me deserves some dragons. Tell the kingsguard to sneak you out, my little sister will be coming, sadly too soon.”

You sat back with a strangled noise, mortification flooding your system. You wiped your disgusting hands all over the covers, soft sobs starting to bubble up. In a rush you pulled back from Aegon’s embrace, belly twisted and chest aching.

“Selys?”

You whimpered, “M’not fucking Selys, why would they bring a whore that could poison you?”

Aegon’s poppy induced state cleared somewhat from shock, him leaning up with a choked noise. He echoed your name, eyes flicking down to his cock and your flushed face, pretty waves, and broken posture. You held yourself tightly and apologized, “I should have known, you were under the poppy, I should’ve just left.”

Aegon struggled further but the pain laid him back down. He sounded desperate, “No, songbird, I-I- I didn’t know, that was sick. Don’t leave me please? You’re all that’s good here.”

“Sadly soon,” you sobbed.

His face crumped in guilt, rage, frustration. You steeled yourself some, compacting that soft gaping maw of love and tenderness for him in a dark place. Maybe to be opened later. Aegon reached for you, pathetically pleading, “Don’t leave me, they always do, don’t.”

“I’ll see if I can seek Selys for you. I thought you wanted me, Aeg. For once.”

He faltered for words, eyes glassy and saddened.

“Good night my King. I’ll send a Maester for more medicine. You strained yourself.”

You ignored the desperate pleas for your name. He really didn’t know any better, you shouldn’t be so cruel. But when your heart was cracked and bleeding on the floor it was hard not to be cold.

Ser Criston was in the hall, making his way for Aegon’s quarters. He did a double take, stopping to peer at your swollen face and mussed hair. You flatly stated, “They didn’t get his dosage right, he’s in pain.” The hand frowned and asked, “What is wrong?”

“I do not wish to speak of it. Where is Prince Regent Aemond?”

Criston stared at you with a look of worry, lips moving in thought. He sighed, “In the library my princess.”

Off your went, holding back sobs of rage and utter sadness.

“Duskmere is ready for battle. Send me to Daeron, the north, wherever. I am tired of sitting around here. I thirst for black blood, brother of mine.”

Aemond stared at you long and hard before his thin lips turned into a calculated smile. The one-eye hummed, “Splendid sister. Was waiting for you to stop mooning over the invalid and our mad sister. We plan later this evening.”

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aegon ii x reader #angst

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