#i just KNOW he would be dying of heat from the sun and think he f.cked it up

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[darabeatha]

HAVE YOU SEEN HIM !!!!!

[celandeline]

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children. 

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable. 

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say. 

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you. 

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder. 

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious. 

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts. 

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries. 

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands. 

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied. 

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less. 

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost. 

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully. 

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even. 

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another. 

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already. 

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone. 

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming. 

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance. 

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone. 

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist. 

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning. 

“Alright.” You say, stepping back. 

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work? 

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone. 

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other. 

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed. 

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable. 

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city. 

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside. 

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you. 

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon. 

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr. 

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.” 

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own. 

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded. 

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears. 

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young. 

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach. 

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom. 

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says. 

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king. 

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge. 

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say. 

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says. 

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze. 

“Where else, then?” Cole asks. 

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath. 

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most. 

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake. 

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon. 

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp. 

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice. 

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder. 

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man. 

Still, there is nothing to do but wait. 

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion. 

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside. 

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. 

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut. 

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised. 

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair. 

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window. 

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries. 

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within. 

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall. 

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail. 

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop. 

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward. 

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide. 

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin. 

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth. 

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest. 

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision. 

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you. 

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along. 

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring. 

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you. 

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing. 

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing. 

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own. 

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering. 

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship. 

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach. 

“Of course.” You agree, confused. 

It’s been too long since you last did this. 

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight. 

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears. 

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face. 

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze. 

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry. 

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say. 

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms. 

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair. 

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress. 

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him. 

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant. 

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons. 

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple. 

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides. 

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you. 

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed. 

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin. 

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again. 

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice. 

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place. 

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side. 

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much. 

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room. 

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say. 

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck. 

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek. 

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will. 

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you. 

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace. 

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent. 

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you. 

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs. 

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning. 

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm. 

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning. 

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired. 

But one cannot simply resign from the throne. 

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan. 

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions. 

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words. 

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company. 

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge. 

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful. 

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice. 

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king. 

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake. 

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face. 

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will. 

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition. 

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin. 

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you. 

“As I, you.” You return. 

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

[xhoneygirlxx]

Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

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[ellecdc]

the case of the missing pickles

poly!marauders x slytherin seer!reader who can't stop Seeing them [2.9k words]

amalgamation of various prompts:

prompt 1 from 🔮🐍 anon: I was wondering if you could do a part two of Sight's Set where one of her visions comes true? maybe the vision is of her on a date with them to Hogsmeade, but it turns out differently where she goes to Hogsmeade alone and they find her there and join her??? prompt 2 from anonymous: Can I please request marauders with a reader who are just in the beginning of their relationship and yet they know r so well like she doesn't have to even ask and she's all confused and flustered prompt 3 from 🕊️ anon: Remus calling feisty slytherin reader 'dove' being her kryptonite

The sun was warm on your skin as the castle gates permeated your view. You were trying to hide your amused smile at the boys’ antics, though you’re sure you were unsuccessful when a gentle laugh escaped your lips.

James faltered in his steps at the sound, turning to look at you with a beaming smile.

“Well gorgeous,” Sirius teased with a salacious grin as he moved to stand in front of you. “I had a wonderful time on our date today.” 

Remus breathed out a chuckle as he placed your jacket that he had been carrying over your shoulders, taking a moment to squeeze your shoulder affectionately before moving to stand with James.

“Don’t make any plans for next Hogsmeade weekend; we’ll definitely be doing this again!” James called; Remus encouraging him forward by a hand on his waist as Sirius walked away from you backwards to continue looking you up and down.

“Don’t miss us too much.” He said with a wink before turning to join the other two boys.

You woke up with a start, shooting upright in your bed as you sucked in a much needed breath. Goosebumps erupted all over your body as the feeling of being submerged in cold water began to dissipate and your nervous system realised it wasn’t dying.

After nearly two decades of living with ‘the gift’ of Sight, one would think your body would have a better response to it.

Alas, it still acted like you were moments away from death.

Perhaps it wasn’t too far off, what with all your Sights of the Marauders overtaking your every waking (and sleeping) moment; perhaps you were dying, perhaps that would be preferable.

After taking a warm shower to bring some much needed heat back to your bones and wash away the residual nerves that your vision had caused, you decided to put it out of your mind; you would never agree to waste one of your precious Hogsmeade trips with the Marauders anyways, so there really was no point stewing over it.

You eventually made your way into the Slytherin common room to find Regulus and Barty already situated with a copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Good morning, Treasure!” Barty cheered as he stood abruptly from his spot on the sofa with Regulus. “Heading to Hogsmeade today?”

“You know that I am, Barty.” You responded with a smirk. “I told you I needed to go to Tomes and Scrolls; the book I ordered should be in.”

“Great!” Barty clapped his hands together. “I need to stop at Dogweed & Deathcap!”

“Absolutely not.”

Barty paused in his excited tirade to look at you incredulously. “What do you mean, absolutely not!?”

“I mean you are absolutely not coming with me, Barty.”

“Why!?”

“Barty.” You started as if you were speaking to a rather troublesome toddler. “Last time I let you come with me you had us kicked out of Zonko’s and then spent two and half hours violently debating with the Dogweed & Deathcap shopkeep about the proper brewing times for veritaserum.” 

Barty stared at you bewilderedly as you held his gaze.

“You’re really not going to let me come with you?” He asked after a painfully long silence. 

“No.”

Barty stomped his foot once and let out a petulant breath. “Then you’re not allowed to be my best woman at our wedding!”

Regulus looked up from the newspaper he’d been engrossed with in favour of this ridiculous conversation to look at the two of you in bemusement.

“Wha-? We’re not getting married?” Regulus stated as a question, effectively removing Barty’s furious glare from you only to have it directed at himself. 

“It’s just one sodding disappointment after another!” He screeched before turning and storming off towards the boys’ dormitory. 

You and Regulus stared at the empty spot that was once Barty Crouch Junior before Regulus broke the silence by standing with a tired sigh. 

“Well I guess I know what you’ll be up to today.” You teased gently earning you a groan from the youngest Black. 

“If you happen to be by Honeydukes…”

“Yeah, yeah.” You cut him off, accepting the galleons he pulled from his pocket as he held them out to you. “I’ll pick him up some sugared butterfly wings.” 

“Thanks, I’ll need all the help I can get.” He grumbled as he made his way after his cantankerous boyfriend. 

Even the dreary weather couldn’t bring your mood down as you pocketed your galleons and accepted Barty’s bag of sugared butterfly wings from the Honeydukes shopkeep. 

You loved Hogsmeade, and you loved visiting with your friends, but sometimes there was nothing like enjoying a peaceful trip on your own.

Feeling quite pleased at having procured your special order from Tomes & Scrolls and successfully running Regulus’ errands, you pulled your hood up to protect yourself from the elements outside before pushing open the shop door only to collide with a heavy force on the other side. 

“Hullo, L/N!” James called as he quickly righted you. 

This cannot be happening. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled as you stepped out of James’ hold, pretending like you didn’t notice the slight fall in his expression at the loss of contact.

“Nope, I think you’ll find I’m really quite Sirius.” Sirius said with a wink.

“Ew-” You started, turning to look at the longhaired boy in disgust. “That was terrible. That’s a terrible joke.” 

“Listen, when you get cursed with a name that’s also an adjective, you get to make all the terrible jokes you’d like.” He responded plainly. 

“You get used to it.” Remus sighed; offering you a sympathetic crooked smile.

“I should think I won’t, thank you very much.” You said as you turned to walk away, only to feel a gentle hand grasp your elbow.

“Whoa whoa, where’re you off too in such a hurry?” James asked teasingly. 

“The castle?” You responded quickly, immediately berating yourself for deigning to explain yourself to the likes of the Marauders. 

“Before lunch?” Remus asked then. “It’s not a trip to Hogsmeade without a stop at the Three Broomsticks.” 

“I’m not hungry.” You proclaimed with finality only for your stomach to traitorously contradict you by groaning rather loudly at the thought of one of your beloved tuna melts from the restaurant.

“Liar.” Sirius smirked smugly. “To the Three Broomsticks!”

Before you had a chance to protest, Remus and Sirius were walking ahead as James threw his arm over your shoulders and guided you after them.

“Get your hands off of me, Potter.” You spat.

“Sorry sweetheart, I wish I could, but then I’d have no way of ensuring that you wouldn’t just take off.” He apologised, not sounding very apologetic at all. 

You thought of your Sight from this morning but decided you were relatively safe; they had called it a date - this was decidedly a hostage situation. Besides, the weather had been really rather lovely in your Sight; today’s weather was quite the opposite.

It was fine.

This wasn’t a date.

You were fine.

Just fine. 

Except you had no sooner entered the Three Broomsticks before Sirius was pulling out a chair for you as James rather forcefully sat you in it; Remus quickly sitting and blocking your means of escape on your other side.

“I’ll go order!” James called quickly before nearly skipping towards the bar to do just that.

Sirius sat across from you looking all sorts of chuffed at his current predicament, smiling knowingly between Remus and yourself. “So,” he started. “Any more visions of your wonderful future with us?”

“Bite me.” You spat immediately, hoping to all the gods that no one noticed the heat emanating from your cheeks at the question. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He smirked.

“Be nice to her.” Remus chided softly. “She already doesn’t want to be here.”

That’s right, you thought petulantly before quickly scolding yourself for agreeing with a Marauder. 

Entirely too soon in your opinion did James return, happily sitting beside Sirius and looking around the table. “So! What’d I miss?”

“Y/N wants me to bite her.” Sirius responded quickly. “Okay!” James agreed readily. “Now?”

“Oh my gods I’m going to avada myself.” You muttered as you pressed your fingers into your temples.

“Oh come now, not before lunch.” Remus chuckled, rubbing conciliatory circles onto your back.

You couldn’t believe how tactile these boys seemed to be; they almost always had their hands on each other in some way. Sirius currently had a hand on James’ thigh who had his arm thrown casually over the other boy’s shoulder. You were almost certain that James had extended his legs under the table and was currently playing some form of footsie with Remus, who, in turn, had his hand on your back. 

And then you thought of the ease that James had thrown his arm over your own shoulder on your way here as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Sirius asked, pressing a finger to the divot that was growing between your brows before you hastily swatted his hand away from you.

“Just wondering what I ever did in another life to deserve this.” 

“Must’ve been an angel in another life to deserve us.” He responded haughtily.

“She’s an angel in this life too.” James added; beaming smile making you feel as though you needed to squint your eyes lest you look directly at it. 

The barkeep saved you from having to think of a response by placing food in front of each of you.

Your beloved tuna melt that you had been dreaming of earlier sat on a plate before you, confusing you as to how James seemed to know your order.

But perhaps he hadn’t; perhaps the barkeep recognised you and knew what you usually ordered. 

You pulled open the sandwich and were hit by another curiosity.

“There’s no pickles?” You asked aloud, causing the three boys to look at you in bemusement. 

“Did you want pickles?” James asked you slowly; his fork hovering over his plate as he delayed the first bite of his own meal on your account. 

“Well…no, but it usually comes with pickles.” You explained dumbly. 

“Yes but you always pick them off, so I asked for no pickles.” He explained simply before finally taking his long awaited bite. 

“How did you know that?” You demanded rather harshly then. 

“Know what? Your order?” Sirius asked on James’ behalf.

“Yes. And the pickles.”

“Because we pay attention?” Remus offered then; you could see him scrutinising you from the corner of your eye.

“Do you want me to go ask for pickles so that you can pick them off?” James teased then, an ill-suppressed amused grin threatening to overtake his face. 

“No, I want you to stop that.”

“Stop what?” Sirius asked with a smirk. “Knowing things about you?”

“Yes, that. Stop that.” You ordered.

“You’d have to obliviate me.” James taunted, leaning on his elbow and resting his chin on his fist as he considered you. 

“Better make sure to get the incantation right, gorgeous.” Sirius added. “Otherwise you’ll be responsible for his care when you ultimately put him into a vegetative state.”

You huffed petulantly before opting to take a bite from your sandwich in favour of continuing with your current conversation. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask-” Remus started with an amused grin on his face. “If you don’t like pickles, why don’t you just ask for no pickles?”

You let out a conceding sigh as you swallowed your bite. “I don’t want to be a bother…it’s just as easy to pick them off myself.”

You felt shame prickle at the back of your neck when your answer was met with silence before Sirius let out a bark of laughter. 

“Oh my Godric,” He exclaimed excitedly. “You are a big softy.” 

Against your better judgement you kicked your foot out at the long haired Marauder, horrified when James yelped before reaching under the table to rub his hand over his shin. 

“Fucking hells, sorry Potter.” You grumbled as you tried to curl in on yourself, watching as Remus cooed at the bespectacled boy and Sirius laughed at him. 

“Oh, no worries angel.” James offered you tightly, voice coloured with pain as he forced a smile at you. “Merlin, you've got quite the leg on you.”

“Fuck yeah she does.” Sirius agreed salaciously, earning him a fiery glare from you as you considered re-aiming your foot. 

“Easy there, dove. Play nice, yeah?” Remus murmured then, causing a shiver to rush down your spine as you turned to look at him with your mouth parted slightly.

You were absolutely horrified at the very visible reaction you had to the scarred boy’s endearment - and you knew it was a very visible reaction because Remus had a very visible reaction to it. 

“You’re alright, dove.” He murmured again, this time with a knowing smirk before turning back to his own sandwich and pretending like he hadn’t just completely rocked your world with one simple word. 

You looked over to see Sirius pick off of James’ plate as you waited for James to use his fork as a weapon for the egregious crime of stealing food, only to see James quickly load up a fork-full and hold it out for Sirius to try. 

“Fuck, I should have ordered that instead.” Sirius admitted as he swallowed the bite.

“Wanna switch?” James offered quickly, already lifting his plate to give Sirius room to slide his over should he want. 

“I’m not taking your meal, bubs.” Sirius responded with a smile as a faint blush dusted the tops of his cheeks. 

“You’re not taking, I’m offering.” James insisted, moving Sirius’ plate in front of him before placing his own plate in front of Sirius when it became obvious the other boy wasn’t going to help. 

“Thank you.” Sirius admitted rather shyly for the notoriously boisterous boy before he pecked a kiss to James’ cheek.

You looked over to Remus in bemusement only to see him looking lovingly over at his boyfriends. 

“Did you wanna switch, too?” Remus asked then, alerting you to the fact that he was quite aware that you had been staring at him.

“Absolutely not; you stay away from my tuna melt.” You spat before taking another bite.

You found yourself quite glad that the boys simply laughed before moving on to other topics of conversation, watching curiously as they talked and joked the afternoon away.

By the time the four of you were making your way back towards the castle the sky had cleared, leaving the spring air fresh and fragrant in the warm sun.

You felt a gentle tug and turned to watch Remus pull your jacket out of your arms before folding it over his own arm to carry it for you.

Shit. 

“Moons! What do muggles call the game ‘leaping toadstools’?” Sirius called suddenly from where he and James had run ahead.

Remus breathed out a chuckle as he smiled at them. “Leapfrog.” He called back with an audible eyeroll you were sure was mostly for show.

“Rem, I bet five galleons that me and Pads can leapfrog the whole way back to the castle.” James shouted.

“I’m not betting.”

James let out a horrified scoff. “Why not!?”

“Because I know that you likely can even though you probably shouldn’t.” He responded simply.

“Don’t rain on our parade, Moony.” Sirius said dismissively, waving Remus off like he was the definition of anti-fun. 

And to your absolute horror, you found yourself rather entertained as you watched them line up to play leapfrog; the only interruption of the game on your walk being to pet the odd cat, point at a patch of honking daffodils, and to run back and steal kisses from Remus (glaring at them when they threatened to do the same with you). 

The sun was warm on your skin as the castle gates permeated your view. You were trying to hide your amused smile at the boys’ antics, though you’re sure you were unsuccessful when a gentle laugh escaped your lips.

James faltered in his steps at the sound, turning to look at you with a beaming smile.

“Well gorgeous,” Sirius teased with a salacious grin as he moved to stand in front of you. “I had a wonderful time on our date today.” 

Remus breathed out a chuckle as he placed your jacket that he had been carrying over your shoulders, taking a moment to squeeze your shoulder affectionately before moving to stand with James.

“Don’t make any plans for next Hogsmeade weekend; we’ll definitely be doing this again!” James called; Remus encouraging him forward by a hand on his waist as Sirius walked away from you backwards to continue looking you up and down.

“Don’t miss us too much.” He said with a wink before turning to join the other two boys.

And though you would sooner die than admit this to anyone, after this rather lovely afternoon and with the amount of time the Marauders have spent leapfrogging through your mind, you didn’t think you could miss them too much, even if you wanted to.

Find the next update here

[cozmiccass]

ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ

ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ : sᴍᴜᴛ ☠︎︎

ᴀғᴀʙ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ!ᴍᴇᴄʜᴀɴɪᴄ!ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴsᴏɴ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇᴍᴀɴ, sᴇᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : sᴜʙ/ᴅᴏᴍ ᴄᴏɴ, ᴏʀᴀʟ (ᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ғ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), sʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, sᴡᴇᴀᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴋɪɴɢ, sᴘɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ғᴀᴄᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴅɪᴄᴋ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ/ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ ɪɴ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ, ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴜᴍ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ sᴀғᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ, sʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ᴘᴇɴᴇᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙᴇɢɢɪɴɢ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ, ᴀǫᴜɪɴᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs sᴇʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ɴᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʏᴘᴇ/sᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ/ʟᴏᴏᴋs ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ : ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴇʟғ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ... ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀʙsᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ sʟᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴄʜᴀɴɪᴄ ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ sᴏʀʀʏ. ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴅᴏᴡɴʀɪɢʜᴛ ғɪʟᴛʜʏ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ! ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴀɪᴅ : ᴛʜɪs ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴀғᴛs ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sᴏ ɪ'ᴍ sᴏ sᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 7ᴋ

ᴄʀᴏss ᴘᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ : ᴄᴏᴢᴍɪᴄᴄᴀss

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

   

OF COURSE YOUR CAR had to break down on the hottest day of the year. this was just your luck and honestly, you were tired of it. you just wanted something to go right, just for once! it was bad enough that you found out you were cheated on, so you had to buy a whole "new" car because your ex took the vehicle you bought together. this new one was a piece of shit.

and he was an even bigger piece of shit.

you stood by your broken-down rust bucket on the side of a barely-traveled-on dirt road right outside of your hometown of hawkins, indiana in a cute, little pink dress and flats. your hair was a mess in its updo and you were dying of heat exhaustion. you just needed someone—anyone to drive by!

you were just about to give up, so you started walking towards town because at least then you knew you'd be in the cool air soon enough. you got about five feet from your vehicle before seeing a dark blue tow truck that you knew was none other than eddie munson's turning down the road. he was the town's best and most affordable mechanic and he just so happened to be incredibly dreamy. he was a bit of a trouble maker and you found that to be downright tempting.

eddie was about fourteen years older than you, but you still knew about what he was known for. things that he probably wouldn't even think about doing to you, but you sure hoped he did. just about every week for the past two years, you would see him at the grocery store or family video, both of you making polite conversation, even going as far as light flirting and (you didn't know, of course) eddie would ogle your figure every time you'd walk away, always thinking about what he'd do to that 'innocent' body of yours.

eddie's truck was nearing, so with desperation, you used your hand to flag the truck down and your knight in shining armor slowed down to a stop.

he rolled his window down on his passenger side and with that signature smile, he leaned over his middle console to talk to you, "well, hey there, sweetheart. what's going on?"

his hair was pulled back into a low-hanging ponytail and he had a wife-beater tank top on. if you hadn't already been sweating, you would've been at that holy sight.

"my damn car broke down!" you huffed, " is there any way you could give me a lift home, mr. munson? i'll pay you," your bottom lip popped out as you looked at him. eddie was trying his best not to get worked up over your politeness, let alone the state you were in. your sweet clothing made it hard for his mind to stay clean. damn, i'm a pervert, he thought.

eddie had a crush on you too, but it kind of made him feel like a creep, so he never acted on it... unless you made the first move, of course. there was always a loophole.

"d'ya want me to take a look? i won't charge ya," his eyes were squinting from the summer sun, sweat beads rolling down his handsome face from the short amount of time the heat was pooling into his cooled truck.

you nodded gratefully and eddie pulled the vehicle in front of yours and got out. you could really see him then; his blue coverall sleeves from work were tied around his waist, covered in oil and other car fluids and a dirty rag was hanging out of one of his pockets. he looked damn good and you tried to get a good eye-full without being caught.

"first lemme see if i can just..." the hood popped open with a grunt from him and he took a quick look inside. "yeah, this is gonna be a minute. i'll have to take it up to the shop, sweetheart. but i'll run ya cheap, i promise." his eyes wandered down your body and you felt the heat rise both to your face and down to your core. thank goodness you were already very red from the summer sun, but surely you'd tell on yourself in other ways. that much you were sure of.

you were just thankful eddie had been out there when he was and you've had that silly, little schoolgirl crush on him for years, so of course you agreed without hesitation and waited eagerly in his air-conditioned passenger seat. he was surprisingly quick to attach your vehicle to his and met you in the truck.

the ride was filled with sexual tension that you weren't sure if you were imagining or not. his muscular, tatted arm rested on the middle console, daring you to touch it, but you couldn't bring yourself to do such a thing. you felt like you barely knew him, but the temptation was there all the same.

when eddie pulled up to your house, he made sure to take your number down and told you he'd let you know if there was any development on fixing it. you hoped that wasn't the only reason why.

"or if you wanna come by the shop and see me, i'll be there," you couldn't help but feel like a piece of meat dangling in front of a ravenous lion with the way he looked you up and down. you could practically see the drool coming from his cynical smile.

you didn't want him to leave yet, so you did what any logical, slightly horny person would do in your situation: talk him into staying. you look up at him through heavy lashes, and your voice comes out just above a whisper, "so how much do you think this'll cost me, mr. munson?"

when you called him that, eddie could barely contain himself. the way your little voice trembled slightly as though you were a little scared of him, but he knew better. he had known of your little infatuation with him, so he figured he'd shoot his shot. to hell with that previous statement of you making the first move. you seemed too shy, he'd have to give you a little... push, just a bit of pressure to your soft and vulnerable exterior.

a chuckle rose from his chest sending shockwaves to your cunt, "well, i'm not sure of the whole problem yet, darlin', but i'm sure we can figure somethin' out."

eddie was coming onto you; you didn't have to be a genius to figure that out. your bottom lip found itself between your teeth as you leaned against his truck checking him out again, this time with every intent of getting caught.

thankfully, he wasn't shy and played right along.

"you oughta' invite me in so we can discuss payment options though," his head nodded towards your house and a cheshire grin spread across his face, traveling right up to his sparkling brown eyes.

usually, you'd never let someone you'd hardly known in your house so quickly, but eddie munson would be the exception every time. so with an innocent smile, you nodded; the condition of your shitty car was no longer a concern to you as you eagerly dragged him through your front door.

as soon as your feet hit the entryway of your home, eddie made it abundantly clear what his motives were. the door slammed shut with your back against it, a rough hand wrapped around your pretty little throat. a tingly sensation rose up your body like goosebumps, but better. you leaned into his grip with no shame, wetness forming in your panties.

"and here i thought you were this sweet lil' thing, always tempting me with those bright eyes and pretty smiles." eddie's hold on you tightened only slightly, causing you to let out a shaky moan and your eyes to flutter open. his eyes flicked down to your lips as he licked his own, "i'm glad i was wrong."

"oh, i'm still very sweet, sir." you teased, smiling at the pressure he added to your neck.

he laughed darkly, a villainous grumble rising out of him. "and i fully intend to find out just how sweet you are, or maybe i'll just leave you here: pathetic and deprived."

you pouted dramatically, but you knew you'd get what you wanted just as eddie did. with his big hand still secured on your neck, he took his thumb from his other hand and pulled at your bottom lip, "open." he was going out on a limb here and seeing just what all you would do for him. he learned very quickly that he wouldn't be disappointed one bit.

even though you had never been one to follow rules, you believed you would follow this man to the ends of the earth. so your mouth opened slightly, never once breaking eye contact with the handsome guy in front of you. his rugged appearance made you that much more eager to please.

"wider." he yanked your chin harshly and you complied, your tongue falling flat. you knew exactly what he was about to do. "that's a good fucking girl," an ornery grin appeared on that beautiful face of his and then he spat in your mouth. "that's right, now swallow."

you closed your mouth and the warm substance rolled down your tongue and down your throat. it tasted of spearmint and cigarettes; you didn't know what you were supposed to expect from someone's saliva, but it had you questioning your sanity. you wanted him to do it again. and again and again. so you swallowed, just as you were told. like a good girl, his good girl.

a little spit dribbled down the side of your mouth and you were quick to swipe it up and suck it off your own finger. you felt absolutely filthy; swallowing a man's spit before even kissing him? you ate that shit up.

"mmm, i'm going to have fun with you," he intently gazed in your eyes and rubbed your neck almost lovingly, but you knew better.

then, eddie hastily picked you up by your plush hips and set you on your perfectly white kitchen island behind him, placing himself between your soft thighs. your cotton panties were already seeping.

"at any point during this, just say 'mercy' and i'll stop or change things up, okay? i want you to feel comfortable with me." your eyes widened as you just realized what you'd gotten yourself into. he slowly dragged a long calloused finger from the collar of your dress to the very end of the feeble fabric. his hand hovered near your core and he could feel the delicious heat radiating off of it.

you nodded your head hastily as you watched him, incredibly worked up. you just needed a little bit of friction.

"and if i'm gonna do anything, i need your words, okay? you're a big girl, right?" you nod your head again already too fucked out without him even doing anything.

"ah, ah." he turned to your sink to wash his hands before he defiled you. eddie munson might've been a pervert, but he wasn't gross.

"yes. i understand. words, mr. munson." your cheeks turn a bright shade of red. this was all very new to you, but you couldn't get enough of it. everyone always treated you as this meek, innocent person and you were not that at all. not really. you were thrilled it was eddie that got to find out firsthand.

"good girl, i'm gonna start touching you now, yeah?" his words came out breathy as he leaned back into your body.

"yeah," you nearly moaned.

eddie raised your dress above your head in one swift movement leaving you completely exposed minus the thing he wanted most. his index finger met the crotch of your underwear and moved them to the side. your core was throbbing in anticipation when he finally took two of his fingers through your slick, a quiet mewl leaving your mouth. his digits were covered in your arousal, so he brought them up to your mouth and you took them without him even asking. eddie reveled in this, a gruff moan escaping him as he watched you closely.

your tongue swirled around his fingers before sliding your mouth from his hand. you leaned back, elbows supporting your shivering body, legs thrown over eddie's strong shoulders.

"fuck, so needy, baby." another moan left your lips as eddie bit your shoulder before sending his two most middle fingers into you. they were precise and careful, knowing exactly what areas needed to be touched and how much pressure to put on your spongey spot. the curl of his digits was heavenly; stars clouding your vision along with a few tears from the intensity.

after a mere two minutes, you couldn't believe you were about to cum, "i-i.."

"shh, i know." his thumb joined in at the tip top of your cunt, circling that sensitive little nub with vigor. you came with a spasm of your entire body, legs shaking, your body nearly flailing off of the counter, a salacious scream leaving your sweet lips. "you did such a good job for me,"

eddie set your legs down with a smirk, "i need you to wrap your arms and legs around me, sweetheart." and so you did very obediently, your clothed cunt rubbed against the rough fabric of his clothing making you all the more hungry. he asked what direction your bedroom was in before taking you there with urgency; your heart pounded the closer he got.

this was actually happening and you couldn't believe it. all those years of pining after and dreaming of eddie munson, he was about to take you however he saw fit and you were going to let him.

he placed you on the bed and you started to lean up to kiss him, but stopped you with a hand to the top of your head, pushing you down, "ah ah ah, down. on your knees for me, baby." his gruff voice melted you down to your bare knees fully accepting the carpet burn soon to come.

you knelt in front of the beautiful man, gazing up at him like he had put all of the stars in the sky. just the thought of his dick in your mouth made your poor pussy quiver and your mouth water.  your hands reached for his coveralls eagerly, dragging them down his legs to reveal his erection secured loosely in his boxers. blue plaid. cute.

for someone who acted like he was in control, eddie sure was fucking losing it on the inside. seeing you all lovely and disheveled underneath him without his cock even being inside you made his ego way bigger than it should have been. he roughly ran his ringed hand through his unruly hair that wasn't in a ponytail anymore, looking up at your ceiling so he didn't bust right then and there.

your lips were pouty, skin glistening from the sweat, and god, he just wanted to fuck you up. make you forget your own name, forget his name even. he wanted to make you a puddle on the bed when he was done with you.

you took his boxers down to his ankles too and eddie stepped out of them in all his luster. a slight gasp came from your lips at the sight of him; pink, pretty and big. wasting no time at all, your mouth attached to his leaking tip. a slight swirl of your tongue and eddie had your hair in his hands, guiding your head down, down, down until he hit the back of your throat and groaned the most beautiful, guttural moan you've ever heard from a man.

"fuck, sweetheart, i just might have to make you mine if you keep taking me like the dirty little thing you are." he pulls you back and slams his cock into your throat, drool spilling from your pretty mouth. your humming only guaranteed his thrusts he started, the vibration encouraging him.

you wanted to be his so bad, you would gladly do anything he asked of you if it meant he'd keep you. just at the thought, one of your hands found its way to your clit and you couldn't help it, you had to have some sort of release.

he was salty from a hard day's work, but it made him even sweeter to you. you bobbed your head up and down, your nails were digging into his thighs as his rammed himself in and out. both of your hands came up to accompany your slick mouth, pumping his perfect dick. something about two hands on his cock made him come undone.

"oh sh-shit," you feel him throbbing and twitching and you take him out of your mouth, his white, hot ropes spilling all over your mouth, face and chest.

with your finger, you scooped up some from your cheek into your mouth, "mmm, so sweet, mr. munson."

eddie let out a staggered breath, "you dirty thing, you like my cum all over those pretty tits?" you nod. "yeah? i bet you like it in your mouth even more, huh? go ahead, lick it all up for me."

your hand sultrily dragged through the sticky substance, chest heaving from the filthy things you knew you were going to do. it dripped down your hand as your tongue lapped it up, making sure you were watching his reactions the entire time, those big brown eyes observing you so carefully, mouth agape, practically drooling himself.

you were so beautiful like this, on your knees, covered in his cum.

"i want you to take it all, slut." his bottom lip was between his teeth and you moaned. "are you my slut, baby?"

you nodded earning a firm slap in the face from him. the sting was bittersweet and you knew a handprint was sure to form, but you were more than okay with that.

"what did i tell you about using your words?" eddie's eyes grew dark, making you shiver in both excitement and fear. "try again. are you my slut?"

"yes, eddie, i'm your slut. i really am, i promise," your bottom lip stuck out at him, trembling. "i wanna have you inside me, all of you." you made intimate eye contact with his weeping slit. such a pretty cock.

a low snicker rose out of him, "not until you're all clean. can't have too dirty of a girl, can we?"

"no sir," you shook your head quickly. you licked up pretty much every drop of that yummy, gooey stuff before eddie decided to let you up off of your now carpet-burned knees with a harsh yank of your hair.

"such a good listener, aren't we? think i should reward you?" eddie threw you onto your bed on your back, a pathetic whimper coming from you.

"i've been so good, please."

"awe, and so respectful." he cooed and crawled over to you on his hands and knees, truly looking like a lion with that wild mane. you were his prey and you were honored. never have you been so infatuated with anyone, let alone a male, but damn, he had a way about him.

eddie sunk down to his elbows to kiss your bare thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin causing goosebumps. with one sudden movement, he brought the back of your thighs flush to his shoulders again. only this time, he was going to use more than his hands.

eddie slowly took your panties down and off, flinging them somewhere long forgotten. he kisses up your thigh, right on a sensitive spot. you twitch because of the sensation; you had no idea you'd be so sensitive, but he had a hunch. he looked at you as a smirk crept upon his face.

if you weren't in such a compromising position, you'd smack that smug look right off his pretty face... but you were, so you just loved in it. his bouncy curls tickling the inside of your thighs, plush lips like clouds gracing your skin, rough fingers drilling into the squishy cellulite. you could live and die here.

well, maybe not before you got to feel eddie's cock burying inside you.

eddie came face to face with your pretty opening and blew lightly, the warm air earning a yelp from you. "you're already soaked, baby, did you get off making me cum? hmm?" a whine escaped you and he ran his finger through your folds. "you didn't even ask, did you? naughty girl."

truthfully, you hadn't even noticed, you were so preoccupied with making sure he felt as good as he made you feel, that it was even a surprise to you.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to... i just—please touch me, eddie," your legs slightly tightened around his neck.

thankfully for you, eddie was feeling generous tonight, so without another word, he took that lengthy tongue to your cunt. if you thought his fingers felt good, you weren't even close to prepared for the talent that man had when it came to his mouth. a flat stripe down the middle made you moan out before he took your clit into his mouth and sucked. not too hard, but not too soft. he flicked it around, side to side, watching your every facial expression. eddie wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life and damnit, you knew you were.

"you taste so fucking good, you know that?" your head fell back into your pillow dramatically when he licked his lips.

as he worked his tongue through your folds and up into your soaked pussy, your hands found a home in his curls, using them as reigns. a gruff sound came from eddie, making his nose bury deep into your clit and just... thank god for big noses.

eddie's face shook from side to side like a ravaged dog, your juices slinging all over his face. with another pressurized lick all the way up to your clit, he let go of your right thigh and brought two fingers to his mouth. the same two he used earlier that were still just slightly pruned.

a pop echoed through the room when he took them out of his mouth, "i'm going to absolutely ruin you, baby." the look in his dark eyes made your breath hitch in your throat, but his fingers in your cunt had you back to breathing heavy in no time at all.

with his fingers now inside you, eddie brings his saturated mouth back to your clit. circles and little figure eights, maybe even his name? whatever he was doing was working wonders. his non-dominant hand came around your legs to press onto your tummy somehow speeding up your orgasm faster than you had anticipated. the build up ever growing until you couldn't take it anymore.

"fuck, eddie. fuck! please, please, i wanna cum so bad," you were surprised you could even form a coherent sentence with how fucked out you'd become.

"do ya? do you wanna come, pretty girl?" he stopped giving your clit attention to look up at you. "do you deserve it, hmm?"

you felt like you could cry and you almost did. spite is what kept you going because you were a fucking brat.

"i do, i-i deserve it." the words came out breathlessly, barely audible to him, so he bit the inside of your thigh. hard. "ow!"

"i can't hear you, i need you to beg me. beg me for that sweet release, sweetheart. i know you can do it for me." the taunting was almost unbearable, almost, but it turned you on even more with his lips mockingly pouting and captivating eyes blinking up at you. he moved his fingers achingly slow along your g-spot as he watched your legs tremble on either side of him.

you were embarrassed, but you just wanted him inside you and if that meant pleading with him, you'd sure as hell do it.

"please, eddie... i'm begging you, make me cum, i need it, i need you." you were so overstimulated that tears were welling up in your desperate eyes and eddie was losing his mind again. he dove back into your clit with his unforgiving tongue lapping you up. his fingers pumped in and out, curling at the most divine speed and angle. you were floating.

you could feel the dam nearing its inevitable burst, a hot sensation coming from deep inside you begging to be set free. just as suddenly, it broke. you knew you were making a mess, but your body had gone limp long before your orgasm. how you were going to be any fun going further was beyond you.

a scream so pornographic left those satiable lips of yours. you felt yourself dripping down your things, but then you looked up at eddie... like an angel, he glistened with your sweet release, a devilish grin upon that sexy face of his. you could easily cum again at the sight of him. 

"i don't think i've ever come that hard in my entire life," you whispered to yourself and of course he heard it, a sly smirk appearing once more. your head fell back onto the pillow with a loud sigh.

"that sounds like a challenge, sweetheart. let's see if i can make those legs shake again." eddie took his fingers and sucked the slick off slowly.

"a-already?" your voice was shaky coming out. you sat up on your elbows and looked at the man in front of you with a very small touch of fear in your eyes. not that you were scared of him at all, but you thought you'd have some recovery time. apparently, that wasn't on eddie's agenda for the day.

"is that going to be a problem?" he crawled up your body leaving whispers of kisses, his dark eyes boring into your very soul. you gasped as he bit down slightly on your side, scraping his teeth across your skin and leaving a dusting of goosebumps.

"not at all, eddie..."

"mmm," he bit a little deeper, humming into your skin. his lips suctioned harshly, a deep red and purple bruise appearing in their wake.

eddie peppered a few more hickeys along your stomach and left a trail all the way to your breasts before taking the left nipple in his mouth. his tongue swirled delicately around the tip, leaving a little bite as he switched to the other tit. whichever one wasn't in his mouth was being fondled by his hand, twisting and pulling hard enough to make you moan out his name.

"fuck, say my name again," eddie tugged a little harder on your right nipple and your mouth formed an "o", silently screaming. god, you were just so stubborn. you couldn't just give him what he wanted after all that teasing he had put you through.

"awe, don't get all shy on me now, baby. i wanna hear that pretty mouth scream my name." he released your breast long enough to tease you before he was on them again.

"you might have to try a little harder than that— oh!" eddie sat up and ripped your body flush to his, the tip of his dick lightly grazing over your soaked center.

"you don't get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. you're here to listen." his hand wrapped around his cock and it made it look even bigger than it already was. he slapped the head on your abused clit a few times before running through your folds wet with creamy slick. you were trying so hard not to moan his name. it wasn't a matter of not doing it at all, more so a game to see how long you could hold it together. you did not have high expectations for yourself considering just looking at eddie munson made your thighs clench together.

eddie smirked as he heard the wetness each time he teased your entrance. "see, now i'm going to need you to beg for it," he stated plainly.

your mouth fell agape in slight annoyance, you were definitely over not having his dick in you. "just fuck me!" you tried to grab him but he slapped your hand and then your face.

"did i fucking say you could touch me? now lay back like a good little slut, would ya?" he positioned himself at your weeping hole and pressed slightly. "beg." his dark eyes glared at you through heavy lashes.

"no." you pushed back tauntingly.

"beg or i'm leaving." he was completely bluffing but you didn't know that. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him if not more.

"fine," a huff exasperated from you as well as a comically unenthusiastic, "please."

eddie barked out a rash laugh, "are you kidding? what the fuck was that?" his hand wrapped around your throat, "i said to fucking beg, beg for me to put you out of your misery, huh? beg me to destroy you like you wanna be." his voice was low and raspy and it had you clenching down on the nothingness in your pussy.

an inch of his cock entered you and just as quickly, it was out. "fuck! you're so mean!" you pouted as your hands gripped onto the bedsheets in frustration.

"no, if i was mean, i'd have left you at the door, baby." another chuckle came from him before he ran his tongue up your throat in a thick strip. the wetness being accompanied by the coldness of the air made your nipples turn pebbled.

"look at her down there, she's so lonely. don't you want me to fill her up?" a thick finger ran through your folds and sunk into your hole and you gasped. "or i can just keep barely touching you, is that what you want, you fuckin' brat?"

towering over you with your legs in the air, eddie let his spit fall from his mouth to your clit and rubbed it in. it didn't need the extra lubricant, but eddie liked watching you squirm under him from every single move he made. you made him feel so powerful. you finally gave in.

"eddie, please, have mercy."

his eyes grew the darkest you had ever seen them. you knew you were in so much trouble and you couldn't wait for the consequences of your actions. with your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched eddie sink himself into you. inch by inch he made you feel fuller than you had ever before. you squeezed him involuntarily.

"jesus christ," he whispered. "i thought if i got you warmed up, i'd go in easier, but damn sweetheart. tight little thing you got here," his rough thumb plays with your clit in the slightest. your cheeks flushed at his words, but he just relishes in the feeling of how warm and taut you are. "just suckin' me right in."

he threw his head back as he bottomed out and you let out a small squeak. you were scared to try to speak due to your brain being absolutely empty of anything but him.

"s-so fu—" was all you mustered before eddie pulled out and slammed the full length of his cock into you and you let out a scream. another slam and another. he was laughing and relentlessly fucking you into your poor mattress. your head spun as he pounded into you, the slick sounds echoing in that blank brain of yours.

"this pussy was fuckin' made for me, wasn't it?" he asked with a sly smile. your thighs were bouncing off of his making a loud smack! with every thrust.

"yes, yes, it was m-made for you," your head was shaking back and forth, eyes shut and your bottom lip now bruised and swollen from biting down so hard.

eddie then crossed your legs against his chest making you tighter for him, a little rag doll for him to use and abuse. you could feel yourself start to topple over, his dick caressing your sweet spot flawlessly. you let go without a noise; your head was thrown back and you clutched his hands that were gripping your hips.

"atta girl, how many more can you give me?" his grip tightened again, fingernails digging into your plushness and causing your breath to hitch in pain. you fucking loved it.

"more, please?" another pathetic whimper came from your mouth and eddie just wanted to slap you again, but you were using your manners like he asked.

"you want more, baby?" he roughly flipped you onto your stomach. "on your hands and knees." his hands guided you and put a pillow under you. "now relax."

and so you did. your ass was in the air and you took a deep breath before a hard smack came across your ass and you could feel your skin rising and burning from the welt that was forming. a few more strikes had you pleading and whining under him before he finally decided you'd had enough(hardly).

nails scratched down your back as he leaned down and growled into your ear, "you want it rough, sweetheart? is that what you want? someone to put your bratty self into your rightful place: under me?"

"y-yes, please! please, eddie!" he lined himself up to your entrance again, slamming into you. his large hand clamped over your mouth and pulled your back to his chest. a bite to your earlobe distracted you before he mercilessly drove himself into you. slick and wet sounds filled the room once again, sweat clinging to both of your bodies. you had never felt so used in your life.

eddie shoved you facedown into the mattress, his veiny cock sliding in and out with grace and purpose. your hair was soon balled up into his fist stinging, making you lightheaded and seeing spots in your already fuzzy vision. your moans grew shorter and louder with each thrust, knowing you were coming undone yet again.

the slight curve of eddie's dick hit your g-spot just fucking right over and over before he reached down and his adept fingers went to work on your already throbbing clit. eddie would admit that this particular position was not the best for that, but he made it work. and holy shit did it work.

with a loud moan/scream and some intense body shakes, you came all over his cock and lost all movement for a few minutes. your legs and arms tingling—even your face felt like pins and needles. you had never felt such pleasure from someone else, or even yourself for that matter!

luckily, eddie was nice this time, giving you some time to recover before his decided final go. he was proud of himself; for an older man, he had quite the stamina.

he laid you on your side, rather gently for the previous actions, and spooned you. his dick was digging into your back, wet from your cum and arousal. in one swift motion, he slid himself into your slick folds not entering you just yet. he wanted to tease a little. the tip of him nudged at your clit deliciously.

"you ready, baby?" eddie's breath hit your ear and sent pleasant shivers down your spine. he definitely noticed and loved the reactions he got from you.

"yes, i'm ready, please, fill me up!" you sobbed pathetically.

"fuck," he lined his head back up to your seeping hole, slipping it in with such ease.

you thought the other positions were good? this was your favorite by far. the intimacy as he held you close and slowly slid in and out of you felt like he might actually call you after this.

one hand held tightly onto your waist while the other was tangled in your hair, pulling ever so slightly. it was more like he was playing with it than anything. a sweet kiss was laid under your ear and you moaned quietly.

he yanked your head back by your hair suddenly and his breath tickled your ear, "come on, sweetheart. you can do better than that, be louder for me, huh?"

a harsh thrust made you scream; a yelp was let out with every slow drag of his dick against that spongey spot. you knew your eyes were rolling back into your head. it was so intense and you never wanted it to end. eddie, cocky as ever, couldn't contain his sly smile as he continued to slide into you.

such a mess was being made and you couldn't be bothered to care, where on the other hand, eddie was laughing coyly in your ear. he was so proud of himself for making you come undone.

"atta girl, gonna cum for me one more time? make a big ole mess of me, hmm?" eddie sunk his teeth into your neck and sucked on the spot he found earlier knowing it would make you lose all control(like you even had it from the beginning).

your cunt squeezed him tight while you came, throbbing all around him. your walls closing in on him had eddie swearing into the crook of your neck.

"fuck, fuck, holy shit... where?" he was biting your shoulder again, trying desperately to hold out.

"i'm on the pill, eddie," your voice came out cracked and weak, completely fucked out.

without needing any further explanation and one last drive into your abused cunt, eddie came with a quiet but husky moan and you don't think you'd ever heard anything more fucking sexy.

you two lay in that position for a moment; his chest was slightly sticking to your back every time he exhaled and your legs were intertwined. when he finally decided to pull out of you, you got sad. you had no idea what this meant and you already missed his touch. no doubt you were an absolute goner.

eddie left the room for a while, putting his boxers on before. when he came back, it seemed he had made himself right at home. a glass of water and a warm rag were in his hands, a small smile graced you as he leaned down to give you the water.

"figured you'd need this. you're all tuckered out, little one." his eyes were a vast contrast from ten minutes ago. once hungry and lustful pits of black were now kind and gentle brown orbs searching your face for regret or fear. to his surprise, all he found was pure adoration and maybe a touch of something else.

"thank you..." you whispered as you sat up and took a grateful drink. cool water flowed down your throat and soothed the hoarseness from the noises that came out of you prior.

"here," eddie took it out of your hands when you finished and gently turned you to your back and spread your wobbly legs. "let me take care of you, okay?"

the way he looked at you with concern had your head spinning. the warm rag glided against the plush of your things and up capturing all of the mess you two had made together.

"why are you being so nice to me?" you didn't mean for it to come out like that, but it did.

eddie looked taken aback, but he understood why you were confused. "just because i'm rough on the outside, sweetheart," he paused to kiss up your thigh. "doesn't mean i'm rough on the inside."

a wide, genuine smile invades eddie's features and yours alike. he looked down to your lips and then back up to your already pleading eyes. the urgency with which he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his was impressive.

the kiss was softer and longer than you had imagined it would be and it was the best kiss you ever had. no competition.

he lightly tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth when he finally decided to pull back from you. your face was still in his hands as he touched your noses together softly. he was looking into your eyes so intently that you felt like you needed to hide, but you trusted him for some reason.

"so you think you'll call me after this?" you laughed lightly, still trying to figure him out.

"oh, hell yeah. i gotta get that shitty car fixed up for ya'!" he laughed and you smacked his arm.

"but no, seriously, are you kidding? you think i'm gonna let you go after all the filthy shit we just did? you're mine now, baby."

a squeal left you as he pulled you down the bed to plant another passionate kiss to your lips.

"besides... i've seen the way you look at me. you couldn't leave me alone anyway," he smirks at you with annoying confidence.

"me? why do you think every time you've seen me, it's been in something small and skimpy, mr. munson. you're a dirty man, i know how to reel you in."

a groan left his mouth and he threw you back on the bed, "oh, you're gonna pay for that, sweetheart."

 

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

ahhhhh!! it's finally done. jesus christ.

i started writing this in august :,)

sooo, merry early christmas, i guess (> u <)

i'm thinking about a part two? lemme know!

also, thank you all so much for sticking with me ❤️

i appreciate each and every one of you!

-cass

[yoonbroom]

SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

a list of seventeen fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 also if there wasn't a summary on the fic I just included a little paragraph or the request! now onto the recs ↓

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

oneshot, fluff, college au, frat au

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

FRACTURED PARENTING, PT.2 - @berriesandjunnie

oneshot angst, fluff, idol au, separated parents au, enemies to lovers

parenting can be an emotional rollercoaster when you’re far from divorced and the flames are far from dying.

YOON JEONGHAN

UNTITLED - @userjuyo

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so &lt;;3"

UNTITLED - @wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

“what if crabs think that fish can fly?” your question is whispered into the darkness of your bedroom — you gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully, while jeonghan curls up beside you.

OF RAINY NIGHTS AND ROSES - @chenfleur

oneshot, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

In the heat of the moment, Jeonghan grows careless with his words. Now, he has to bear the weight of saying things he didn't mean.

DAISIES - @viastro

oneshot, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which jeonghan is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart. 

JOSHUA HONG

BEST FRIENDS BROTHER - @chocosvt

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, best friends brother

joshua happens to be your best friend’s older brother. he’s pretty, and he’s got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

IT TAKES TWO - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, idol au, parent au, est relationship

a family is a little scary when your partner has over millions of fans.

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"it feels like the sky has only just welcomed the sun when joshua tries to get up to leave."

WEN JUNHUI

HEAVEN COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, angst, idol au

i just couldn’t stand to see you leaving but heaven couldn’t wait for you.

HAPPY ENDING - @junkissed

one shot, angst, fluff, marriage, est relationship

a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

KWON SOONYOUNG

LET ME TRY AGAIN - @papermatisse

oneshot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, parent au

Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

(UN)TRADITIONAL - @neonun-au

oneshot, fluff, wedding au, est relationship

"The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. "

VOWELS AND VERACITY - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, teacher au, single parent

after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

BE SWEET - @heartkyeom

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, royalty, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance. “That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth. You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

JEON WONWOO

FOR THE BOOKS - @trblsvt

oneshot, fluff, teacher au, est relationship

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

HOW TO FALL - @because-of-a-friend

oneshot, fluff, angst, idol au

"hi!! <3 i love ur acc and i was wondering if you'd be able to write an imagine where you're besties with joshua and he invites you to meet the rest of seventeen for the first time and you instantly fall for wonwoo? maybe some angst but overall fluff? thank you!! no rush!! i love your work!!!"

UNTITLED - @/97-liners

oneshot, fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, childhood friends

"a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together."

SCANDAL, PT.2, PT.3, PT.4- @fantasyescapes17

series, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, regency au

this is part of an extensive series that includes other members! you can check it out ⤳ here

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

MEET CUTE OF THE CENTURY - @lovelyhan

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

MARRIAGE - @yikesmary

drabble, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE - @/yikesmary

oneshot, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.

LEE JIHOON

GUITAR STRING - @leejungchans

oneshot, fluff, angst, royalty au

"“Take me away.” Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze."

WE'LL BE OK - @atinykidult

drabble, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” for hurt!Jihoon

LIVE - @wondernus

oneshot, fluff, idol au, est relationship

having just finished composing a song a few hours ago, jihoon starts a live on his phone to sing to those who are feeling a little lonely at night. little does he know, your sleeping figure could be seen in the corner of his little livestream, causing his fans to go crazy.

MWHA - @cheolism

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

IM DATING WOOZI - @jihoonotes

oneshot, fluff, smau, est relationship, idol au

y/n is in a public relationship w/ woozi of SVTZ and decides to make a twitter acc to support jihoon, but SVTZ fans seem to think they're delusional.

JIHOON'S PUPPY - @rubyreduji

oneshot, angst, fluff, college au

jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

HEARTSTRINGS - @wavelikewhat

oneshot, fluff, strangers to lovers, idol au

You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer.

LEE SEOKMIN

WARM ME UP ! - @ponkwan

drabble, fluff, est relationship

the one where you’re on your third date with seokmin.

KIM MNGYU

HOT OR COLD? - @jjuniehao

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS - @babyleostuff

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

a sunny date spent with your precious boyfriend

XU MINGHAO

THE LETTER - @toruro

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, brothers best friend, childhood friends to lovers, idol au

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE - @sungbeam

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends, est relationship

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

CHWE VERNON

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE - @suhnshinehaos

series, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, smau

the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

“vernon, we need to talk.”

OR, WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE ME? - @thepixelelf

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au, soulmate au

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?

LEE CHAN

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, parent au, idol au

no matter what stage in life you’re at, or after all these years, you can count on his hyungs to still treat him the same.

08:23 AM - @wheeboo

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

in which chan is late to dance practice.

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

[spacebarbarianweird]

Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

[kaciidubs]

Rock and Roll

❣ Summary: Jeongin's new comeback look was truly irresistible. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.08k ❣ Warnings: This specific Jeongin, Dom! Reader, Switch! Jeongin, use of honorifics [Noona], smut, semi-public sex [bathroom], fingering, clothed sex, praise, begging, desperation, slight degradation ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Jeongin is referred to as Innie, baby, baby boy, and IN-ah [once], Reader is referred to as Noona, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

He looked too good with that hairstyle.

He looked way too good with that hairstyle.

Maybe it wasn't just the style, maybe it was a combination of the split dyed golden blond, curled into a messy mop, paired with the fake lip piercing, colored contacts, and collar that shouldn't look as enticing as it does around his neck.

Yeah... That was it - that explained away the way you were practically vibrating in your seat across the room, watching as one of the stylists fixed a curl at the back of his head.

She patted his shoulder with a nod, her lips moving with words you couldn't catch before he nodded in response and slipped his way out of the styling chair.

Making his way over to you, he stood in front of you with a smile brighter than the sun, truly resembling the fluffy fox he was personified as.

"What do you think, Noona?"

Truly, this was the universe testing you, waiting to see if you would stick with your morals or succumb to the irresistible charm of your darling boyfriend.

Humming thoughtfully, you made a thorough up-down of his full attire, "How much time until you're needed for the pre-recording?"

Slipping his phone from his front pocket, he tapped the screen and watched the device come to life, "About... 45 minutes?"

You stood from the couch with a dignified nod, sliding your hand in his before leading him toward the door of the communal dressing room. "Great, I'll only need 30."

Morals be damned.

It took; two minutes to slink your way into the bathroom down the hall, tugging him in behind you and locking it the second it shut, another two minutes to silence his jumbled questioning with a kiss, hard and statement making, and one minute for him to succumb to your stellar persuasion.

"Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look?" You moaned against his lips with no intent to give him the time to answer, your own lips barely leaving his for even a second.

"I-" Jeongin gasped, returning your heated kiss, "You've-" a whimper cut him off, his hands holding onto your hips, "-mentioned it-" you nipped at his bottom lip and his knees buckled, "-once or twice."

Pulling away, you gazed at him with lust fogged eyes, "Well, baby boy, you look so god damn hot, I wanted to fall to my knees the moment the stylist finished curling your hair - but then..." Your eyes dropped to the collar resting against his neck, sliding your hand from his shoulder to dance your fingers along the silver letters, 'IN'. "When I saw her put you in this, it made me want to put you on your knees."

The whine he let out was sinful, almost pitiful in the way his hips rocked against yours - arousal evident in the presence of his dick filling out the front of his pants.

"C-Can you? Will you?"

His expectant pout made your heart swell, and your lips to curl into a pitying frown, "Oh, baby, you're on the clock, remember? We wouldn't want to give Jiyeon more work in fixing you back up again, now do we?"

"But- But-" he moved his head, making a point of the locked personal bathroom you all but dragged him into, "You brought me in here! I thought you'd at least-"

"Let you fuck me silly on that insatiable, deliciously long cock of yours?" You finished for him in more colorful words than he would've chosen, "I know, but you're already in your makeup, and you and I both know that less than 30 minutes isn't enough to get you off fully."

Deflating against the door, his hands squeezed your hips in disdain, "So, what? I can't just leave like this, Noona, I'm so hard it hurts."

Smirking, your fingers cupped his chin, "Well, you're lucky I have a plan, a deal if you will." Watching as he nodded for you to continue, your smirk grew into a grin, "I want you to finger me, Innie - make me come before you have to go and I'll do anything you want once your performances are over. Can you do that for me, baby boy?"

A light sparkled in his eyes, the urge to please you making him straighten up, "Anything?"

"Anything, baby, just as long as you make me come with those pretty fingers of yours."

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your position was switched; one hand protecting the back of your head as the rest of your body thudded against the door, while the other got to work on unbuttoning the button of your jeans.

Five minutes for him to get them unbuttoned and down your legs, your right shoe paying the price for your right leg to be freed and hooked around his hip - your panties simply pulled aside by his thumb and his fingers sliding along your folds. His left hand relinquished its cradle on your head to hold onto your waist, keeping you as stable as possible in the precarious position.

"Wet." He murmured against your mouth, middle and ring finger curling and collecting the arousal practically dripping from you, "So wet for me, Noona."

Your head fell back against the door, an airy moan floating past your lips as he focused his attention on the column of your neck. "A-All for you, Innie - only for you, baby."

You needed to play your cards right, push all the buttons that would get him ticking just the way you needed.

"Can't wait to have you in me, maybe I'll just drag you back in here after the show - won't even wait for you to change."

He moaned against your neck, his fingers pressing against your entrance before slowly sinking both digits in at once with learned ease. "Wanna fuck you, Noona, please - I'll be quick, w-won't mess up anything."

Bringing your right hand to the nape of his neck, you curled your fingers through the hair at the back of his head - a taste of what he could have later. "You know our deal, baby boy; make Noona come and I'll be on my knees faster than you know."

With a shivering breath, he steeled his resolve and curled his fingers inside of you, targeting that spongy spot at the front of your vagina and hitting it with ease.

Your left arm tightened around his shoulders, working double time to keep you balanced with the help of his left hand holding you against the bathroom door.

"T-That's it, baby, fuck-"

He didn't give you any time to revel in the sensation as he tilted his hand down, the drag of his fingers bringing a low moan out of you before he flicked his wrist up, thrusting his fingers back into you at a speed that made your toes curl.

"Fuck!"

That was your test run, the calm before the storm, and with a slight adjustment of his arm, the bathroom was soon filled with the sounds of your moans and the slick squelching of your cunt around his fingers.

"Innie- Innie- Oh, fuck me-"

There was no desire to keep quiet - it wasn't a secret that whenever you and Jeongin disappeared, someone was getting their rocks off, but what happened next came as a shock.

When your mouth opened to let another wanton moan float through, a large hand covered the bottom half of your face, his fingers just barely resting below the bottom of your nose.

"Be quiet." He practically growled against your ear, fingers flexing against your cheek, "J-Just shut up and take it."

You were shocked you didn't accidentally break a finger from the way you clenched at his tone, eyes fluttering as he ground the palm of his hand against your pussy, your clit getting the stimulation it deserved.

This was the Jeongin you were going for, your darling boy who switched hard with the right provoking; the one who had you seeing stars in ten minutes flat.

His hand was hot with your muffled moans trapped behind it and he couldn't care less; not when your walls fluttered around his fingers, and your arousal puddled in the palm of his hand and dripped off the back.

"W-Wanted you to make me fall apart," he scoffed, rutting his hips against your left thigh, "but now I'm making you fall apart first - just like you wanted, huh, Noona?"

His quick thrusts were subbed out for rapidly jack hammering his hand against your pussy, the sopping noise practically bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

"I could've filled you easily - bent you over the sink to watch me fuck you dumb through the mirror," pulling his head up, his dark eyes held a glint, stunning and all encompassing, "but I guess you love my fingers too much to even care."

Your left hand tightened in his curls, an unabashed moan catching in the palm of his hand.

Just a little more - you just needed him to-

As if reading your mind, he sunk his fingers in to the knuckle and traced fast, tight circles around your puffy clit, "Come for me, Noona - make a mess of my fingers."

Your body trembled, limbs all but locking him in place against you as you came with a loud cry - even muffled, he could make out the whined scream of his name vibrating against his hand.

He worked you down with gentle thrusts, groaning at the sensation of your cum dripping down the back of his hand, "Oh god, you're so much warmer now... S-So slippery."

You came back to your senses enough to realize he was still grinding himself against your thigh, the once dominant air surrounding him now melting away into the needy baby bread you loved even more.

"I-I did good, right? Made you come like you said - now, can I?" His hand dropped from your mouth in favor of gripping your waist, quickly succumbing to the deliciously harsh rub of his denim pants against his boxer-brief hidden dick. "Can I come, Noona? Can i? Can I, please?"

Knowing you wouldn't forgive yourself for letting him ruin himself in his stage clothes, you dropped your right hand to his wrist; pulling away the fingers that were still nestled inside of you before untangling yourself from him and unceremoniously getting onto your knees.

A short cry fell from his lips when you pulled away from him, but when he saw you kneeling with your hands working fast against the button of his pants, he nearly came then and there.

You got his pants undone in record time, tugging them - and his underwear - down just enough to pull his cock out and wrap your lips around the shiny, precum covered tip.

"S-Shit, Noona- 'm gonna- I-I'm-"

A flick of your tongue against his slit, a gentle suck, and in no time a desperate whine fell from his lips as he came in your mouth, the slight tang coating your tongue with each wave that coursed through him.

Swallowing in kind, you stroked him a few more times to make sure that was all he had - albeit a bit greedily - before pulling off of him with a soft pop.

You tilted your head to look up at him, and you met his familiar, bright eyed smile - even after fingering you like a man possessed, then coming down your throat in mere seconds, he still looked like he didn't even break a sweat.

"Wow," he breathed, a breathless laugh escaping him, "that was ama-"

"IN-ah! We're leaving in 15!"

The sound of Minho's voice on the other side of the door nearly made you both jump out of your skin, urging you to scramble back into your jeans while Jeongin hastily tucked himself back into his boxer-briefs.

"Don't forget to get your makeup touched up again!" Came Hyunjin's teasing voice, laughing as if he could see the blush currently turning your boyfriend red.

"See?" You huffed, pushing yourself off of the ground and fixing your jeans as casually as you could, "Told you I only needed 30 minutes."

Rolling his eyes, Jeongin fixed his shirt with his head held high, "That just gives me 15 minutes to think about what I want you to do to me when we're done."

You laughed at his haughtiness before tugging him by the collar, pressing your lips to his in a soft, sweet peck.

"Go on and get touched up, rock star."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson

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[sir3n-s]

Steve's been a sailor for years. He's survived a lot of different "adventures".

Unfortunately, he doesn't know how to survive being left on an Island without any supplies.

He's regretting declining the offer to become a Capitan. If he ever makes it back he's begging for the position.

It's not uncommon for an experienced sailor to join a crew that's brand new for a little to help them out. Steve was happy to do it even.

He just didn't think they would leave him stranded on a island in the middle of the ocean.

Steve didn't know what to do so he just started walking towards the trees.

And he kept walking. For hours, maybe even a day or so.

The sun has left and appeared 3 times so it's been a few days. But he kept walking.

Until he started to hear an alluring melody that felt like it was pulling him towards something.

He kept walking towards it and the louder it got the worst the urge got to find the source.

It was hypnotizing.

Eventually he reached a circle lake that was absolutely beautiful. Crystal clear water, pearls and jewels surrounding the edges, the prettiest rocks he has ever seen.

But sitting on a rock was the source of the sound. A man?

A man with a dark red tail and long black hair. It stopped singing once it saw him.

"You finally made it" the man said, voice as mesmerizing as the song it was singing.

Steve didn't say anything. Just continued to stare.

He made it to what? His death? Is this what he was hallucinating while he died? Out of everything he sees a man with a tail and so many expensive items he could probably buy the whole town Steve was from.

He sat down and leaned against a rock, if he was going to die he was going to die comfortably.

As comfortable as sand can be.

"Not talkative? I thought all humans liked using their voice" it asked sliding into the water and swimming closer, crawling out of the water to try and get closer to him.

It layed on the sand next to Steve just starting at him.

"Do you not have a voice?" It asked.

Steve sighed, "I have a voice but I refuse to talk to someone my imagination made" he closed his eyes.

"You think you can imagine something like me," He can hear the smirk in its voice. "Why do you think I'm fake?" Of course, his mind made someone to make his last moments alive hell.

"Because I've been here for days without food and water in the heat, I'm ovbisouly dying. Now be quiet" Steve spat out, just wanting peace in his last moments.

He seriously hoped Robin won't be to devastated when he doesn't return home.

Suddenly something touched his mouth, he jumped back and opened his eyes. The man was holding a cup filled with water.

"Drink" it commanded.

"I'm not drinking water from a uh whatever you are, it's probably not even clean"

"Its rude to assume the worst, isn't it?"

Steve glared at him.

The man sighed and threw a red apple at him, "at least eat that"

Steve scanned the apple for a moment before deciding it was safe and taking a bite.

"So what will it take for me to convince you that im real and trustworthy?"

Maybe being left on this island wasn't so bad.

[winwintea]

dreamies as your disney world boyfriend

pairing ▸ boyfriend!dreamies x reader author's note ▸ i am working on the SERIES I PROMISE GUYS... it's just quite long... oops. i needed to channel my inner disney for inspiration for this sorry. the prompt seemed to make more sense in my head so i guess it's just, 'dreamies at disney' now lol. ALSO SOME DISNEY TERMINOLOGY in there i apologize. should make sense but if it's confusing ask me lmfaooo

mark lee

photographer boyfriend obviously 

doesn’t even complain about how many photos you want to take

is actually dying inside but hides it away with dad jokes to cope with the pain

“it’s not even noon yet and dis-knees are killing me bro” 

will only complain about the heat 

“It’s like we’re on the surface on the sun dude… like satan’s armpit. that’s crazzzzyy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh

but then he just KEPT GOING

“it’s like we’re in the inside of a mouth… there are things sticking to things that-” 

and you cut him off right there.

can’t help the fact that bro is a D1 yapper.

will not wear mickey ears though no matter how much you beg him to :(  

favorite ride: slinky dog dash

least favorite ride: dumbo

huang renjun

the boyfriend that actually disney bounds with you

so y’all are disney bounding as nick wilde and judy hopps from zootopia (renjun’s idea)

chenle took him to shanghai disney once, so he’s a big fan of duffy and friends

oh how disappointed he was when he realized that the mascots don’t exist in WDW

“preferred parking? i would prefer parking to be free, thank you very much.” 

mood is very sour upon entering

“i know you’re cold but i did tell you to bring a jacket.” rude.

however once you two start collecting your first character signature he’s locked in

somehow more excited to meet the characters than the kids are? (ur 24. reality check!)

he gets more into it as the day goes on

YOU BET HE’S WEARING THE MICKEY EARS. 

although he already had fox ears on to begin with anyways

favorite ride: mickey & minnie’s runaway railway

least favorite ride: seven dwarfs mine train (it was too short)

lee jeno

foodie boyfriend 

wants a turkey leg like really badly 

“that guy has a turkey leg… sir- um sir- where did you get that turkey leg”

you have to bribe this man with food.

which honestly is okay by you because you just wanna take photos of the food.

"yknow with this ride being 50 years old, you'd think they could've made the boats a little bigger. have to man spread now" 

whatever you’re thinking of, that’s literally not what he meant. 

he’s an innocent lil guy. (seriously, it just came out wrong.)

holds ur hand on all rides. 

let’s you grab onto his muscles arms while you are nervous on the thrill rides

no mickey ears though. (it’s the bow that always throws them off)

favorite ride: rise of the resistance 

least favorite ride: teacups

lee haechan

out of pocket boyfriend who will not stfu

“bambi’s the only movie i really couldn’t watch… i could not be as strong as bambi” 

after you give him the, “wtf” look he just continues. on.

“cause if my mom died well… there goes my friend group.”

will randomly start singing disney songs in the middle of waiting for a ride. 

in those show/ride/attractions he’s the only one clapping and screaming. 

especially true for the beauty and the beast sing-a-long attraction, cause yknow he’s gonna scream his lungs out.

yeah he’ll wear mickey ears, but you bought him a goofy hat instead. It was more fitting.

“can’t believe disney made a character after me… should i sue?”

also complains a lot. way too much.

“EPCOT? more like every person comes out tired.”

favorite ride: pirates of the caribbean (he kept making a booty joke over and over again)

least favorite ride: toy story midway mania (bc he lost)

na jaemin

hardcore boyfriend photographer (pt 2) + ‘mom’ boyfriend

man knows all your best angles and where to take photos

“picture, picture over here… yes yes right… in front of the castle angel. oh that’s so pretty… in… in… down… up… okay! smile!”

you two spend like half the day taking photos, jaemin needs to show off his gf ofc.

cares for you the whole entire day, makes sure you drink enough water

aggressively refills your waterbottles every second he gets. 

“when it doubt, chug it out! (cue jaemin chugging his own bottle)

he unfortunately will not wear mickey ears. (jaemin i believed in you.)

he’s not the one being taken photos of, so no mickey ears for him.

“princess i don’t wanna hear it. the humidity is good for you. this is like nature’s pore declogging.”

favorite ride: frozen ever after

least favorite ride: none (bc he did everything with u <3)

zhong chenle

in between buying you everything and calling everything too expensive boyfriend

HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET A MEMBERSHIP WITH CLUB 33.

this man pulls you into that sus green building on main street, and your jaw drops.

club 33, is an exclusive, membership only restaurant at disney. it’s like an elite society filled with rich upper class, but at disney. (never been inside not sure how to describe it but oh boy is membership expensive.) the waitlist got so long in 2007, they closed it for 5 years. look it up on wikipedia disney lore goes hard

“i just asked a couple of friends, and they recommended me this place.” boy.

you’re panicking because you’re severely underdressed. (you’re in a jessie costume.)

he reassures you, since you’re at disney, and being dressed like this is normal.

once u have one of the most expensive meals of ur life, chenle drags u to every single thrill ride.

he also buys you a balloon and a bubble wand <3

but for some reason when you arrive at the gift shop he realizes he’s spent a lot.

“okay enough gift shop. look away from the gift shop. this vacation already has us in poverty.”

AND BRO ACTS LIKE THIS THE WHOLE TRIP IM NOT KIDDING.

he’ll buy you a nice meal at one of the restaurants and then…

“we’re not getting churros they’re 5 dollars.”

no mickey ears either why do you even ask

“next time i’ll take u to shanghai, it’s better okay?”

favorite ride: tower of terror

least favorite ride: it’s a small world after all

park jisung

anti-disney everything boyfriend

gets frustrated at everything. cannot read the map.

when he goes on small world…

he severely questions his mental sanity. like actually guys i think he needs help.

“this ride is for kids.” 

the ride in question: the barnstormer! a 40 second kiddie roller coaster that has top speeds of up to 25mph!

literally jisung’s 13 reason. 

he was screaming his little heart out poor baby.

“I’m not wearing those. Stop.” you do not stop. “Take these off of me right now.”

he wears the ears for half of the day though so a win is a win.

“we’re going to the other park? we’re not going home? there’s 3 more??????”

favorite ride: none

least favorite ride: all

[97keanu]

hey! you could write with john wick coming home to find his wife in the garden with the "garden boy" who clearly likes her but she doesn't realize it. i imagine john being subtle and quiet with his jealousies, nothing too scandalous but serious and direct. fluffly, please and thank you so much 🩷

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I loved this idea so much! I hope you like it, feel free to ask for any expanding drabbles of these two <3

Jealous!John Wick x Naive!Reader

Tags: john is jealous, reader is naive about his jealousies, gardener def has a crush but would rather quit than act on it with john always around, age gap mention, lower class reader in a rich world, possessive john, protective john, primal john

Summer was dying, August dragging out the heat of July, telling the world it was unready to leave just yet. And you, well, you were enjoying the last of the long days, the time when sunset went on for ages, and burned in the sky a blazing orange over your backyard. You always loved the sun, how it turned everything golden each evening, and how it kissed your skin with its heat. 

You were barely breaking a sweat, laying out by the pool while the gardener worked on the bushes. He was young. More around your age than your husband John. Which was nice sometimes, when you got to converse with him, both because of his age, and like you he wasn't from a wealthy background. It kept you a bit more grounded while the life of luxury continued on around you, it was nice to confide in him. 

Unfortunately, what you never noticed was the gardeners wandering eyes. Even now, as you lay out in your bikini, eyes closed and skin happy to drink up the suns rays, he can't help but to watch you. If you asked the gardener about it, he would never admit to his little crush on you. As much as that would be unprofessional of him, he also has no interest in messing with his employer, John Wick. There were rumors, you know, about John coming home, bruised and bloody, a painting of struggle on his skin, the smell of gunpowder on his suit. The gardner has even caught a glimpse before, and watched as you greet your husband as a source of safety and comfort. No one asked why it was that John came home in such a state, but everyone knew, and because of that, the gardener would never pursue you. He would remain a healthy confidant, easing your worries in the world of the rich, and letting you keep in touch with the world outside the private neighborhood. 

The gardener still steals a look or two while he thinks he can get away with it. His headphones buzz with music, drowning out the weed whacker as well as much of his own thoughts. He idly appreciated your body and your beauty from afar, before his stomach drops. He felt for only a moment that he was the one being watched now, and when his eyes flicker up, he meets a set of dark, dangerous eyes. John has entered the backyard, likely in search of his wife, who is currently enjoying the last days of summer. The most frightening part is how close he is, the gardner had no idea that John had snuck up behind him, and now he feels the trail of sweat down his back running cold.

Instead of finding his wife, John sees this man, who he pays handsomely to do work John has no time for, drooling over his wife. The gardener quickly looks away, trying to be busy with work, but the feeling of John's gaze never leaves his back. He starts to feel sweaty for reasons besides the burning August heat, and does everything he can to stop from looking over his back once more. There was just something about John that scared him to his core, and he felt he should trust that feeling if he were to survive. 

Unfortunately for the gardener, John isn't finished. He feels John remove one of his ear buds, the man now so close he can smell John's expensive taste in cologne. 

"I don't pay you to eye fuck my wife." John growls out, assertive and serious. 

"N-no, of course not, Mr. Wick…" The gardener quickly tries to find his way out of this mess, John's cold eyes are enough to scare him away from looking at you for a good long while. 

"Good. I suggest you go home for the night." John maintains professionalism always, but the thoughts running through his head tell a different story. The gardener can practically see these thoughts and takes John's suggestion, quickly moving away to pack up. 

Meanwhile, you don't even know this interaction has happened, eyes closed lightly, sunglasses blocking out the sun. It isn't until John's lips kiss and whisper against your cheek, that you realize your husband is home for the day. Your eyelids flutter open, happy to see his dark form against the dulling blue sky. He looks at you with a small fire in his eyes, and you have no idea he is trying to show off while he continues to kiss down your neck. 

He's halfway to your breast, maybe more,  when you glimpse the gardener beginning to pack up in a haste, and gently pull John away, for modesty if anything. You notice the gardener refuses to look in your direction and wonder why.

"John, wait…" You say softly, and John let's out a small noise of annoyance that his lips must be pulled from your soft skin. 

"What's wrong?" His voice is low, gruff. 

"Let's wait until…" Your eyes finish your sentence, looking towards the gardener once more. John scoffs when he sees where your gaze is going. 

"What? I'm not allowed to lay claim to you in front of the staff?" He says, almost arrogantly. You aren't exactly surprised, John has always been protective, if not possessive. You don't mind it much, in fact sometimes it even turned you on how primal he could be about it. But you also thought you had tamed his jealousy regarding the gardener months ago. 

"You don't have to claim me, John, I'm already yours…" You say with a smirk, kissing right under his well kept beard. John seems to be calmed for the moment by your words, and while he enjoys your kiss, the gardner slips away for the night, safe once again for now. 

John's eyes open when your lips leave his neck, and he looks down at you, perplexed. 

"Why'd you stop…?" He breathes out, voice already dripping, husky with want. You smirk, and stand from where you were sun tanning, taking his hand and pulling him to the house. 

[megbanned]

I got a qeustion!

So pretty sure your mascot is- MB right? Well I’m curious…

Do they have any character lore or a story? Or just serve as a persona?

I think they look pretty adorable ✨

Was just curious since idk if they have any funky powers, but one of your posts has fire around them? Soooo-

Hi!

MB it's my sona and OC, both things I think XD

And yes, they have Lore!

This is a general reference of how they looks-

MB goes for They/Them in case you get a bit confused-

But for the lore: Right now I'm inspired to write, so expect a LOT of text, some things could be misspelled since I use Google Translate to write-

This image explains it more x'D

Basically it is a subtype of Worker Drone that works Underground at high temperatures where humans and normal worker drones may not be able to withstand that much heat.

They have shiny parts that allow them to light the way, such as their horns and tails. These parts appear to be made of lava, but it is another equally hot material that in turn helps them create mining tools.

This information is new and I did not explain it before: instead of having normal WD feet, they have paws, this in a way helps to feel the vibrations of the ground, as well as feeling that someone is nearby or that the cave where they are possibly about to collapse.

The hotter it is, the more efficient they are, however you should not let them consume each other or things will happen-

BUT Now that the planet froze What is MB's role? Survive

Due to the explosion caused by humans, the artificial heat that the MB colony maintained began to run out and they had no idea how to fix what gave them life, where could they get more heat? They need to consume that to live… They are made of heat, aren't they? They attacked each other until little by little there was no one left.

MB had to grow up during these conflicts and fights over the heat, he had never known what was above them even though some left the colony and did not return (they did not return since the Dissasembly drone killed them, curiously the DD did not come down to the colony since entering the caves was dangerous if you didn't know where to go, so the DDs who entered also died of overheating from not eating)

Due to certain decisions, 4 UWD (Underground Worker Drone) killed the few that remained of the colony, there was no more heat, there was nothing more to consume, MB fled the colony before they killed them, which meant that he had to go up to the surface, it took them a while to get there due to the different caves, MB met 2 other UWDs but no good things happened, when MB finally reached the surface it was not as they imagined it, it was even more spacious, and a great light covered everything, MB had seen the sun for the first time, something they had only heard from stories from other older UWDs, it didn't provide him with as much heat because of the cold snow but it was better than being down and dying.

While MB walked through this spacious place they couldn't help but see parts of other UWDs on the ground, as if something or someone had torn them apart. This terrified them, believing that the surface would be just as brutal as underground, but still decided to investigate, finding traces who were guiding to a camp seeing bodies of… Worker drones???, it was the first time MB had seen the body of a Worker drone, MB had only heard about them again because of what they told them, with the hope that they could help him to look for a warm area, MB was looking for them in that camp, but only saw abandonment and destruction, until saw the tracks left by the tires of a certain machine, a type of transport was what MB thought of, so they followed these tracks, it was a long road and the sun was beginning to set and their internal heat was not going to help for a long time, at one point and near a certain place MB ended up getting cold and collapsing because of it.

They found MB's body, they didn't know what type of Drone it was due to its appearance, but its visor showed the image "Low Temp", so they looked for something that could provide heat and a heater could help with that, for now.

Andddd this is a mexican drone- If MB were on the show, would speak completely in Spanish just like Doll speaks Russian.

SOOO this is what I have for now of MB Lore XD

The inspiration for some of the UWD lore was the Naica crystal caves located in a part of my country. sooo probably I will draw something about it later

OH

and MB original design was this one

I later wanted to convert it into a Worker Drone and ended up creating a whole subtype of WD and the lore that I wrote previously.

SORRY IF I WROTE A LOT, I FEEL INSPIRED ASDSADASDSAD

[c-optimistic]

Hey, i saw you tagged something with "#Kara has been okay with dying for a very long time#makes me wanna write about it" and I just thought I'd pop in to say that if you write about it I would love to read it :D

The Phantoms lie.

She knows this, she knows this. But the truth is, the Phantoms do more than just lie.

They twist memories, create waking nightmares, force you to relive the most painful things your own mind can conjure up.

(And Kara’s mind is a dark place.)

She can distinguish it at first, what’s real and what’s not real. There’s a lot giving away the fake memories, the implanted thoughts. Little details that give Kara enough distance from what she’s seeing to recognize it’s not real.

Things like cruel smirks on Alex’s lips that she never wore in reality.

Things like J’onn’s distrustful eyes following her, like Nia’s disgust when she appears, like Brainy’s disappointed shake of his head when she takes another step.

But then, she loses focus. She loses her grip on reality. Because she sees Lena’s tearstained face, hears her blaming Kara for lies and betrayal and loss and...it’s all true. It’s true, and she finds she can’t tell the difference between the Phantoms’ lies and her own bitter memories.

(She takes another step, needing to keep moving, needing to find a way out, needing to get home.

The lies, the memories, and the hurt all follow.)

It’s cold in the Phantom Zone. Cold, dark, and utterly silent. There’s nothing but the sound of her boots against gravelly soil, chattering teeth, and guilt and blame ringing in her ears, the voices of her friends and family shouting at her, not wanting her, hating her.

(The Phantoms lie. She knows this.

She has to know this.)

There are no signs of passing days. There’s no rising and setting sun, no waxing or waning moons, no indication that time passes at all. At first, she tries to count, to create her own sense of time, using the numbers to block out the voices and the visions, but she loses track, loses focus, watches everyone she loves die and wishes she died with them.

(The Phantoms lie.

She thinks she knows this.)

Kara takes another step. And another.

(It’s painfully cold. Her thoughts make her feel colder.)

A step. She has to keep moving, even if she’s unsure where she’s going. Why is she still going?

(The Phantoms lie.

But lies with a foundation of truth are always easier to believe.)

Kara stops, surrounded by images of all her dead loved ones, and she drops to her knees to join them.

///

When she wakes, she’s in a small cave-like structure, a glow emanating from a fire that gives off no heat.

And the man who has rescued her, the man in the robes and defeated eyes, is her father.

When he notices she’s awake, he’s careful to shift, appear as non-threatening as possible, smiling benignly at her. And Kara just lays there, staring, wondering if she’s dead or if this is just yet another ghost sent to haunt her.

“Kara,” he says finally, breaking the silence, his voice cracked from disuse, tongue clearly not practiced with the single word he utters.

“I’m dead,” Kara guesses, sitting up, watching the robed man who has taken the guise of her father carefully. “Right?”

“No, you are not dead.”

“But you’re not him,” she says, not really accusatory, just stating a fact. He looks at her sadly, like she’s hurting him.

“I am Zor El,” he says, almost like he believes it. “I am husband to Alura. Brother to Jor El. And most importantly, father to Kara Zor El.”

Kara gets to her feet shakily, stepping as far back from him as she can, back pressed against the cave walls. “No, stop. Zor El is dead. He died. He put me in a pod, alone, and sent me off, and he stayed to die with Krypton.”

Like I should have, she doesn’t say. I should have died too.

“You’re not real,” she tells him, meeting his gaze defiantly. The robed man, the man who calls himself Zor El, the stranger, lets out a sigh and hangs his head.

“The Phantoms lie, Kara,” he tells her quietly. “You know this.”

///

They begin their journey. Her hallucination tells her there’s some sort of outpost. A place she can perhaps send out a message, they merely need to get to it. He tells her he will go with her.

He tells her to be strong.

(And she wonders if this ghost knows what she’s thinking, if he can look into her mind and read those dark thoughts she can’t seem to shake.

Because even as she takes step after arduous step, she is focused on a singular notion: perhaps the universe would be better off with her dead. Perhaps fighting had no use at all.

Perhaps, in those endless days, dark and cold and alone in her pod, aimlessly floating through the vast expanse of space, she should have given up. Perhaps it would have been better.)

Ghost-Zor El doesn’t touch her, but she feels his heavy gaze on her, and she turns to him.

“The Phantoms lie, Kara,” he reminds her, giving her a smile that brings back memories of her father, of sitting in his lab and learning more about his work, of listening to his stories, of watching him when he wasn’t paying attention. “You should know this.”

///

Stay warm, he tells her. Find shelter, he reminds her. Conserve your energy, he advises her.

Rest, he says, rest and keep fighting to get home—back to those you love.

She doesn’t ask him how he knows she has loved ones, people she desperately wants to get back to. She merely listens without complaint, obeying thoughtlessly to his suggestions, and lets her mind go blank.

“Are you real?” she asks him after what feels like several days, but could have been weeks or months or years.

Her hallucination never comes too close to her, but he smiles her father’s smiles and that’s enough for her. “The Phantoms lie, Kara,” he says softly, his voice lulling her to sleep. “Don’t forget this.”

///

Everything aches. Each step takes energy she just doesn’t have. It’s as though all the weight she’s always carried, all the grief and pain and regret, has finally become too much, sapping her of everything she has left.

She buckles under the burden, but before she can fall, she feels a strong grip around her arm, dragging her up back to her feet.

“You must keep going,” her father’s ghost tells her, his eyes sad, no warmth from where his fingers are closed around her arm. “This is not where you fall.”

“But it can be,” Kara murmurs hopelessly. And it occurs to her, she’s not quite sure what she’s still fighting for.

A sister who she overshadowed and whose family she ripped apart? Friends who were terrified of her and what was capable of? And Lena—Lena, who Kara has loved from the day they met, but who she has hurt so completely that the CEO will never be the same?

(Kara has been okay with dying for a long time. Okay with dying in her pod. Okay with dying to save Earth. Okay with dying to protect those she loves.

And here now, she’s okay with dying with her father’s ghost—finally, finally joining him.)

“The Phantoms lie, Kara,” the fake Zor El says firmly, forcing her to take another step. “You must remember this. The Phantoms lie, and you must live.”

She stares up at him blankly, and obeys. She takes one step. Then another.

Another.

Another.

And on and on.

She keeps going.

///

Time passes. She’s not sure how much. But her apparition father no longer walks a distance away from her. Instead, he practically holds her up as they keep going, his repeated promises than she can do this all she can really hear.

“I wish…” Kara manages weakly. “I wish you were real.”

Her ghost father chuckles, clearly hearing what she can’t say. (I wish I were with you. I wish I wasn’t alone. I wish, I wish.) “Ah, but I am real. I’m the best parts of you, daughter,” he says. “Resilience, strength, commitment…hope.” He says the last word with some force, as if needing her to understand. “You are good. You are kind. And you try, more than anything you try.”

“The Phantoms lie,” she reminds him quietly. He laughs again.

“Yes, but I am no Phantom.”

And they keep walking.

///

“I have hurt so many,” she says, half carried by the fake Zor El. “I cause nothing but damage and pain. Why would they even want me back? Lena especially?”

“I don’t believe love is as simple as you make it seem, Kara,” the fake Zor El says. Another step. And another. And on and on.

“Love? She hates me. I ruined her life. I lied. I betrayed her.”

“Sometimes we stumble,” the fake Zor El said gently. “Sometimes we fail. But as long as we learn, as long as we get up and try to do better, there is always hope.”

A step. And another. And on and on.

“I do, you know. Love her,” she adds when her fake father seems confused.

He smiles brightly at her, and it’s nice. Even though he’s not real. Even though she’s only partially sure she’s not dead and this isn’t all in her head, even though he’s at best a hallucination and at worst a trick of the Phantoms, it’s nice. Because she’d never thought she’d have the opportunity to tell her father about the woman she has fallen for—the scientist like him, the innovator like him. The woman who made her feel more at home, more like herself, than anyone else.

“Hold onto that love, Kara,” he says, helping her take another step. “If there’s one thing the Phantoms cannot destroy, it is your love.”

She nods, though she doesn’t quite understand. And they keep going.

///

She knows she’s reaching her limit physically. There’s only so much even she can endure. Between the cold, the bone deep weariness, the ache settling in her chest, and the energy sapped from her very being, she’s running on no more than fumes.

She tells herself it’s just one more step. Just one more.

Just.

One.

…more.

“Father, are you—” She stops.

She’s completely alone. The ghost is gone.

Kara trembles, choking not only on the dusty, frozen air, but on her despair. All she wants, all she wants is to stop.

To fall to the gravelly dirt.

To curl up.

To give up…

“Kara!”

(She falls to her knees. The Phantoms lie, she thinks. But what a mercy, what a kindness, she’s going to die with her name on Lena’s lips.)

“Kara! Brainy, we found her. Alex, you’d best come quick.”

(The words make no sense. The Phantoms lie. They lie. They lie, lie, lie.

She looks up, and an angel stands before her. Lena, with wide, desperate eyes. Lena, with hair in a messy ponytail. Lena, in dusty, dirty clothes.

Oh, she’s a sight. She’s an angel. She’s everything.)

“Kara? Kara, we’re here. We’re going to take you home.”

(The Phantoms…have never lied like this.)

“Lena?” Kara manages shakily, unsure if she’s dreaming, hallucinating, dead even. “Are you real?”

Lena doesn’t answer, instead she rushes forward, falls to her knees too, and pulls Kara into a hug. She envelopes Kara in her scent—sweet and flowery—envelopes Kara in her warmth. Her heartbeat is strong against Kara’s chest.

She’s so alive. So present. So very real.

“Lena, my father, he…” But she doesn’t finish what she wants to say. After days, months, weeks, years (she doesn’t know, she can’t tell) of being lost in the Phantom Zone, her body finally caves under the weight of everything she’s gone through.

And she lets go. Falls into Lena. Lets herself be supported. Her eyes close, she breathes in Lena’s scent, and she thinks, even if this is just a lie, just a dream, it’s a good one.

And she knows no more.

///

When she wakes, her first thought is that she’s still dreaming. That the Phantoms lie, and that their lies are growing more and more impressive.

She’s laying underneath a sun lamp, nestled comfortably in her own bedroom, wearing soft pajamas and enveloped in her favorite blankets. There’s gentle music playing from somewhere in the living room, but otherwise that’s all she hears.

(The silence is eerie, disconcerting. She’s unused to such quiet, always assaulted by thousands upon thousands of sounds each and every moment. What a blessing, she thinks wryly, that the Phantoms would lie to her this way—would give her this much peace after so much pain.

And she wonders if this is what dying feels like.)

“Kara,” says her angel suddenly, and Kara turns her head, noticing for the first time that there’s a chair set up next to her bed, that Lena is there, watching her. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Am I dead?” Kara asks. Lena’s eyes widen but she shakes her head. “Are you…are you real? Is any of this real?”

Lena slowly reaches out, giving Kara every chance to say no, to pull away, and she takes Kara’s hand into her own, threading their fingers together.

(She’s warm. Soft. And her touch stirs something inside Kara.

It’s familiar. Hers. Something lost in the Phantom Zone.

Or at least, something she thought she had lost.)

“I’m real, Kara,” Lena says. “We all are. And we’re here for you okay?”

“You found me?” Kara asks, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “You came for me?”

“Always,” Lena swears.

(The Phantoms lied.

But love, love she thinks always tells the truth.)

[physalian]

Creating Tragedy Through Human Error

One of my favorite sci-fi movies is Sunshine (07). In it, a team of highly skilled scientists is sent on a mission to our dying sun to essentially nuke the core to restart nuclear fusion and keep the star alive. They are aboard the Icarus II, the second attempt by a slowly-freezing Earth to attempt this hail mary, after Icarus I was lost. When the team stumbles upon the Icarus I’s distress signal, they have to make a choice: Detour to potentially save survivors and get double the payload (a second chance if they miss or it fails), or waste more time that Earth doesn’t really have straying from their mission.

They decide to detour, reward worth the risk, and when the ship changes trajectory, part of it becomes exposed to the intense heat of the sun outside the ship’s solar shield, and catches fire, burning up their only way to refresh their oxygen. Now, they have no choice to find Icarus I both for the payload and any chance of making it home, and chaos ensues for the rest of the movie.

The whole inciting incident for this chaos isn’t detecting the Icarus I’s signal, it’s the failure on part of the flight engineer to properly account for shifting their solar shield when they change course. It’s a simple, yet catastrophic human error, and he takes it incredibly hard—if the mission fails and they all asphyxiate before the payload can deliver, he will have killed Earth’s last chance for survival. All because he did some math wrong.

—

There’s something brutally tragic about a disaster that comes not from without, but within. Sunshine would have had the exact same stakes if the solar shield had simply malfunctioned and it was fate or the power of god that had killed them. Based on the name for their ship—Icarus—one can assume that human error, human overconfidence, flew them too close to the sun.

Sometimes shit just breaks. Sometimes the tech doesn’t work. Sometimes the bullet misses in a freak gust of wind. It’s a random fender bender on the highway. Not saying these plots are wrong at all, and having a character feeling like fate and the universe are against them is a compelling enough premise on its own.

But some of my favorite tragedies are tragedies because it all could have been avoided if one character made a different choice. One of my favorite TV shows has a climax where everything they’ve been working for, everything they’ve fought for all boils down to successfully inputting a code into a thing for a Sunshine-esque world revival. They’re winning the race, gaining ground, they’re at the console, the villains have lost. Meanwhile, the lone team member back home coordinating everything chooses to ignore a phone call from their allies because he’s busy and thinks they’re far less important. The villains then take these allies captive and hold them hostage—hand over the code or the innocent bystanders die right before their eyes—and the heroes balk, the consequences of which are devastating.

Had this one character stopped, thought, and not dismissed their allies’ call for help, none of this would have happened. Sure the villains could have shown up out of nowhere with them with zero buildup and just said “we caught them offscreen, uh, doesn’t matter how” and the choice would have been as agonizing to watch, but knowing it all happened because one character couldn’t be bothered makes it so much worse.

—

Some things to consider about doing this:

Try to avoid deus and diablos ex machinas. The latter tends to receive less backlash, because shit going wrong for no reason is less story-ruining than shit going right for no reason, but you can do better

This is high above a character simply forgetting about a macguffin or forgetting important information or something conveniently breaking or failing to turn on at the last second for no reason other than to be dramatic, this is something that the audience might not see coming before it happens, but understands immediately once the damage is done.

If you’re going to make it a fault of a character, make sure it’s a fault that character already has, a choice they would realistically make, instead of randomly making them an idiot to further the plot

Up to you whether you want the characters to realize the human error in all this. In Sunshine, that was the whole point, in the tv episode, I don’t think they ever connected the dots, but we did as the audience.

Typically, these are tragedies, and the choice that was made is irreversible. The character who makes it either dies regretting everything, or has to live regretting everything, but there is no quick fix. It’s not a quick “oops let me correct that,” it’s devastating.

Hope this helps, now get writing!

[runningfrom2am]

no drinks, no pools, no molly. (r.c)

summary: five times rafe cameron tried to ask you out, and the one time it worked.

this is an About Time!au (that's is my fave movie of all time and if you haven't seen it i highly recommend it if you like laughing and sobbing at the same time)

tags/warnings: you might cringe (a real warning), soft(ish)!rafe, def fanon!rafe, swearing? fluff! underage drinking

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 4.6k (yikes)

recommended listening: about time theme, friday i'm in love

note: please please please if you haven't seen the movie at least give the theme a listen, while you read this or on its own but i promise it'll make your heart melt it's so adorable, i listened to it through most of the writing process and it made me want to cry sooo

Rafe Cameron has a flawless reputation. Tainted only by his better-than-thou attitude, as some perceive it- but always kind, always caring. Suspiciously so, to many, considering his semi-popularity, but that has never bothered him. He's a "stop and smell the roses" kind of guy, making him insufferable to some, but not to you.

It's not like you two are close friends, but he's had a seemingly hopeless crush on you for years at this point. He sees you almost every day at the country club in the summers, and lucky for him, you usually have two or sometimes three classes together at the academy on the mainland during the rest of the year. He thinks you're just about the most beautiful girl in the world- if he had to guess. The way the light reflects off your hair in the sun as you lay on a beach chair by the pool with a drink in your hand, making it look so soft and so shiny he's just dying to touch it, leaves him in awe every time.

After much encouragement from his sisters, he's decided it's time to act on this crush. After years, he still doesn't know if he can. Even if he has nothing to lose.

What everyone doesn't know about Rafe and his reputation, is that he has lived two lives. His dad told him when he was eighteen that by some miracle the men in his family could travel back in time, and his sisters could never know. All he had to do was simply stand in a dark, enclosed space and close his fists at his side- picturing the moment he wanted to go back to in his mind. Then, he would find himself there. He didn't believe it at first, believing his dad was pulling the wool over his eyes, but he tried it that night anyways- and was shocked to find himself in yesterday's clothes with his previous day's breakfast sitting on his desk waiting for him.

This changed everything, and he really never had anything to lose- but that didn't make the terrifying concept of talking to you any easier.

One:

"Go, Rafe! Go talk to her. Just be yourself." Sarah is pushing him in your direction and he stumbles a little on his feet, cheeks burning hot from nerves working in tandem with the heat of the hot summer day. He almost drops his drink, glaring at her over his shoulder as she waves for him to move, smiling excitedly. He supposes now is as good a time as any- you're alone, sitting next to the pool on a towel with a novel in your hands and a tequila sunrise at your side. He wonders if that's your favourite as he hesitantly walks up, repeatedly glancing back at his sister who's giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

"Hey, uh, Y/N?" Rafe says, clearing his throat as he stands over you, his shadow blocking the sunlight from your eyes as you lift your sunglasses.

"Hey, Rafe. How's it going?" You smile, settling your glasses in your hair.

"Oh, uh, pretty good," Rafe replies, and you nod with a smile, almost like you're waiting for him to continue. "Can I join you?" He asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.

"Of course!" You grin, patting the empty seat.

"Sweet, cool- thanks..." He says, mostly to himself as he steps around you and between the chairs, going to sit down when he stubs his toe on the leg of the reclined sun chair.

"Ow, shit!" He hisses, instantly recoiling and in the process, dumping his drink all over you.

You gasp, quickly sitting up and shaking off your book, hoping it's not too damaged along with your white swimsuit that is now stained red with the grenadine in his drink.

"Oh, oh god- I'm so sorry, Y/N, I-" Rafe panics, the pain in his foot suddenly gone as he looks you over.

"It's fine, Rafe. It happens." You chuckle a little, but he can tell you're not pleased as you desperately shake your book.

"Uh, here, I'm so sorry-" He says again, grabbing a towel from the table next to you to try and help dry you off, but realizes too late that your drink is balanced on the edge of it and he spills it, once again onto your lap.

You fly up out of your seat, jumping a little at the cold and brushing the ice cubes off your lap. Now your bathing suit and book are most definitely ruined and you groan at the thought of having to repurchase your favourite book, which you've read no less than seven times now. "Shit.." You mumble, more to yourself.

"God I'm so sorry, I just-" Rafe is absolutely humiliated, he doesn't even know what to say as his cheeks are red hot from having most definitely blown any shot he's ever had with you. He gets up and quickly takes off towards the clubhouse, running out of the situation as fast as possible. You watch him in confusion, laughing a little as he leaves you awkwardly standing by the pool with a newly tie-dyed bathing suit.

"Ouch..." Wheezie grumbles, sipping on her own drink as he watches Rafe run away.

"Where is he going?" Sarah says, wincing a little as she looks at you as well, giving you a quick awkward wave since your eyes landed on his sisters, hoping for any answers.

"No clue, but after that trainwreck, I'd be running too." Her sister answers with a slight laugh.

When Rafe gets inside, he slows to a quick-paced walk since he knows he's not allowed to run inside. He's got a firm destination in mind- the broom closet in the locker room.

Two:

Rafe is standing on the back porch at one of Kelce's parties, admiring the way you hold your drink with both hands as you stand by the pool with some of your friends, talking over the music. They scare him, sure, but not as much as you do. Even though he knows you're not a mean person, at the same time he has to acknowledge that they, your friends, will be his harshest critics if he tries to make any moves on you.

"Dude, just go talk to her, this is ridiculous at this point," Topper says to him, nudging his shoulder. "It's hard to watch, honestly. Just, here, take this- then go talk to her."

His friend is holding a shot glass up to him, holding some nondescript clear liquid. "Liquid courage, man, what's the worst that could happen?"

Rafe nods, trying to hype himself up. He glances over your way again, sighing to himself at how pretty you look. How pretty you always look. He swallows his pride and takes the shot, shivering at the bitter taste and handing the glass back to Topper as he wipes his mouth, coughing in the process.

"Okay, now, go ask her out, the worst she can say is no." His friend is encouraging, but Rafe isn't worried about what you'll say, so much as what he'll do to embarrass himself this time. He's lucky he's the only one who remembers the country club incident that happened just a week prior.

Rafe smiles nervously at his friend and adjusts the collar of his shirt, walking down the stairs of the porch and heading in your direction. He stops halfway and abandons his half-finished drink on the stairs. He's not risking that again.

"Hey." Rafe clears his throat as he walks up to you and your friends, but it seems that no one heard him over the music. "Uh, hey, guys." He says again, slightly louder this time and grabbing their attention.

"Rafe! Hi." You smile, seemingly excited to see him and you quickly give him a hug. He's shocked, but hugs you back. "How are you? I haven't seen you around this week!"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I've been pretty busy." He lies, smiling at you nervously. He tries to relax as he takes in your intoxicated state, knowing you're having fun, and not taking much seriously.

"Sarah said you've just been locked up at Tannyhill all week." Your friend laughs a little, making him blush.

"I mean, yeah I wasn't feeling well. Had a bad cold." He pats himself on the back for the quick save, but that is cut short as you take a subtle step back, smiling at him awkwardly and shifting your body language after having just hugged him. Shit, he knows how anxious you are about getting sick. "I mean, not bad, I think it was probably allergies. Nothing contagious, I don't think." He scrambles to backtrack.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better." You say, carefully eyeing him up and down. God, now you must think he's gross. Great.

"Thanks." He smiles. "Uh, can I grab you another drink? I'm empty-handed; at Kelces parties that's a sin." Rafe chuckles, trying to change the subject as he notices your almost empty cup.

He's hoping to get you away from the watchful eye of your friends, and it seems to work as you smile and nod. "I'll be right back." You say to your friends, stepping back to squeeze past them as he joins your side. Now is his chance.

"So, uh, I was actually wondering if-"

"Rafe! Buddy!" He hears someone yelling at him excitedly, their tone getting louder as they approach quickly.

"Kelce, h-hey!" He says, just as his friend reaches his side, shoving into him as he suddenly comes to a stop at the edge of the pool. He wraps an arm around Rafe's shoulder and uses him to steady himself- but unfortunately, Rafe is the wrong person for this.

He stumbles back with the weight of another teenage boy against him, bumping into you and you lose your balance. "Oh, shit- Y/N, be careful." He laughs a little, turning to make sure you're okay, slamming his elbow into your side and pushing you into the water by accident. He didn't realize how close you were still standing to him.

Rafe freezes, his jaw-dropping as suddenly everyone in the vicinity is watching. "Oh, shit!" Kelce laughs, nudging Rafe again as he stands there slack-jawed. He looks briefly over to your friends who are crouched down at the edge of the pool now, shouting your name and ready to pull you out. You gasp as you come out of the water, frantically pushing your hair out of your face. Your makeup is ruined, and no doubt your hair as well. Rafe could tell you put time into how you would look tonight.

"Y/N! Oh god, I'm so sorry!" He says, finally snapping back to reality. He crouches down as well to try and help, but you look at him only briefly before swimming over to your friends.

"That's rough, bro." Kelce laughs quietly at Rafe, who's standing back up, defeated now. "Hope you weren't trying to hit that."

"Do you have a walk-in pantry?" Rafe quickly asks him.

Three:

No pool this time. That's for sure. They seem to be bad luck for Rafe, and this time, as he looks at the small gift bag he hid under the table of other gifts for you on your birthday, he knows he just has to get you alone to open it. Your friends were throwing you a big party at Molly's house, and invited everyone on your side of the island. It was big, after all, you were the kook princess- but Sarah seems next in line for the title.

It's proving to be difficult, though, since there are about fifty other kids here- and you're the star of the show. As always. This doesn't bother him, though, not at all. You deserve it, and he can't wait to be on the planning end of all your birthday parties for the rest of your lives.

"Y/N/N! Let's do presents, yeah? I can't wait for you to open mine." Molly smiles at her best friend, guiding her over to the firepit area next to the gift table. Rafe is all ears, confident with his hiding place as he makes his way over too, sitting a couple of seats down so you'd have room for your friends as well. Not everyone wanted to watch you open your gifts, that seemed like a childish thing, almost, so the party just continued around you.

"Rafe, how are you?" You asked him with a smile while your other friends sat down. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm good, yeah. Happy birthday, by the way." Rafe replies, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shorts. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course! It wouldn't be a party without you." You giggle, about to speak again when Molly is thrusting a box in your lap, wrapped with pink paper and a glittery bow.

"Here, this one first- it's from Ava and Maya." She explains, even though you're already reading the attached tag. You nod, looking over to the two girls.

After about forty minutes of Rafe watching you open gift after gift, he's getting nervous. He didn't get you anything extravagant, only a small bracelet with a little note. He didn't want you to think he was crazy, or weird.

He looks over just as you help tuck away the last of the garbage into an empty bag, not wanting to leave a mess on your friend's lawn. He's sure that the whole time you were opening gifts, you didn't let a single piece of stray wrapping paper or tape hit the ground. You were so considerate.

"Hey, wait- Y/N/N, here's another one. I think this is it." Molly says, walking over and dropping the small bag into your hands.

No, no- god, you can't open this in front of so many people. Rafe's hands start to shake as he watches you helplessly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as you carefully pull out the small box. You smile softly as you turn it over in your hands, and maybe, Rafe thinks, it will be fine. Maybe you'll open it and then love it and read the card and nod at him with that beautiful smile he knows so well, and then he'll finally have his chance.

"Who's it from?" He's pulled quickly from his daydream as he watches you open the now unwrapped box, smiling wide and placing your hand over your chest. "That's beautiful, Y/N/N." Molly smiles, crouched next to her best friend as she stares over the delicate bracelet as well.

"It is..." You sigh softly, placing it back down gently in the box.

"Yeah, who is it from?" Molly asks again, taking the bag and digging out the card. Rafe wants to speak up but he can't, knowing that would incriminate himself further. He's frozen as she opens it, his hands getting clammy as she starts reading it out loud without scanning the intention of the letters first. 

"Dear Y/N." She smiles, confident as she continues reading and Rafe sinks back in his seat, pulling his shirt up to cover his nose. "Happy birthday to the most beautiful girl on the island. I wouldn't doubt it for a second if someone told me you were the most beautiful in all the world." She reads and you pout, blushing as you clutch your hands to your chest, all your friends going "aw" along with Molly, who's taken a pause in her reading to gush over how sweet that is. "Anyway, I'm hoping you'll let me take you out for dinner later this week, I'd really love to get to know you better." She continues, pausing a little before quietly reading off the final line. "Love always, Rafe..." She trails off, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Not everyone heard his name, but even her looking at him was enough to send everyone else watching the signal nonetheless. "Wait, Molls, why would you read that out, that was meant to be private, I think..." You whisper to her, guilt crossing your features as you look nervously between her and Rafe.

"Oh... oops." Molly replies, looking back at Rafe again apologetically. "Rafe, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine, uh, yeah it's cool. I, Uh, I've got to- yeah..." Rafe says, getting up quickly and heading for the door of the house.

"Rafe! Wait!" You call after him, handing the box and the note back to your friend and getting up to follow him quickly. You get inside just as you hear the bathroom door close, sighing a little to yourself. You'll wait here for him to come out so you can talk, and this will give you time to think over the best way to apologize.

As the light flickers off in the bathroom, Rafe knows he can't face you after that, quick to clench his fists at his sides and think of that morning- wishing that the whole thing never happened.

Four:

"How much do you know about Y/N?" Rafe asks his friends, watching you tee off on the hole ahead of them. The way your tennis skirt matches your headband makes his head honestly spin, you're so intentional with every outfit you wear- he thinks it's adorable. No one on the island dresses as well as you, in his opinion.

"What do you mean, like, how she is in bed? You'd have to ask her ex." Kelce laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

"No, obviously not." Rafe blushes. "Like, what kind of guys does she even like?"

"Why, you gonna ask her out?" Kelce laughs a little, stopping as he sees that Rafe is serious. "Oh- I mean, her ex was a total douchebag, so that's a good place to start. Apparently, she likes assholes."

Rafe nods a little, watching you drive off in the golf cart with your friends. He knows that so far trying to be himself has had a zero percent success rate, so maybe it's time to try a different approach. He can be more of the guy he is when he's alone with his friends, emulating a much more masculine, fuckboy vibe. The worst that could happen has already happened, twice.

On the last hole, with a few more drinks of what Topper called "liquid courage", he flattens the creases out of his jeans and jogs up to catch up with you. "Hey, ladies- can I borrow Y/N for a sec?" He asks your friends, not waiting for a response before continuing. "Thanks- 'preciate it."

He strides up to you as you and your friends look between each other in confusion. This isn't the Rafe you normally know, who you've grown to have a crush on. You take a few steps away with him, but not enough to be out of earshot from your friends, they obviously know about your secret feelings for the boy, and would love to listen in.

"Hey, so, uh," He stammers a little, quickly trying to get back on track with his attitude. But the way you're looking at him with your big, beautiful eyes as you smile at him expectantly, nervously almost, is throwing him off. He's never been this confident around you. "My friend really likes you, but I told him I'd ask you out first to see if you're worth it." He smirks, shifting his weight on his feet.

Your face falls- and you look hurt. He feels a pang in his chest. He did this to you, maybe Kelce's advice was bad after all. Your friends gasp, obviously hearing everything. "That is the rudest thing I have ever heard!" Your best friend, Molly, yells at him, quickly stomping over to you while you try and figure out what to say.

"Is this some sick prank?" Molly says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and looking at you closely as you can't fight back the tears.

"I- wait, wait, no! I- I'm sorry I just-" Rafe tries to defend, shaking his head quickly and holding his hands up to the two of you.

"Get out of here, you prick!" She says, accentuating her desires by throwing her drink in his face.

Rafe wipes the drink out of his eyes, turning quickly and making a break for his friends. He can't save this situation now- he just had to escape.

"That was unbelievable!" Your other friend says as you get back to the golf cart, sitting down and wiping your tears.

"What a fucking loser." Molly adds, shaking her head as she watches him run away.

Rafe is met with his friends laughing hysterically at him, taking in the sight of his soaked polo shirt up close. "Dude- what did you say to her?" Topper laughs and Rafe grumbles as he sits in the cart, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Let's just go back to the club." He mutters, that same broom closet calling his name yet again.

Five:

No drinks, no pools, and now, no Molly. Rafe figures his best move at this time is to just text you. He doesn't have your number, not yet, but he does have your Instagram- and the DM feature seems like his most viable option, at this point.

rafecameron: hey, how are you?

yourinstagram: i'm good!! how are you?

Rafe is surprised he gets a response back so quickly, sitting up straighter at the kitchen island, where he's sitting eating his lunch.

rafecameron: i'm good. enjoying the summer so far. the weather has been perfect for wakeboarding.

God, the weather? Could he bring up anything more boring? He scolds himself mentally as he sees that she's typing, his leg bouncing a mile a minute on the stool he's sitting cross-legged on, his bowl of cereal left forgotten in front of him.

yourinstagram: that's awesome :) i haven't got much surfing or wakeboarding in this summer yet unfortunately, just haven't thought about it much i guess

At least she's trying to make small talk, Rafe assumes that's a good sign. It's perfect, actually- he can offer to take you out boating, especially if you haven't had the chance yet.

rafecameron: i have the boat tomorrow if you're free? we could grab drinks or something at the club after

Rafe sends the message and quickly places his phone upside down on the counter, but he can't resist lifting it again as soon as his phone buzzes.

He furrows his brow as he's seen you sent a photo. He opens the text thread, blood draining from his face when he sees the screenshot of this exact conversation pop up along with a message.

yourinstagram: *photo* yourinstagram: OH MY GOD MOLLS- I THINK RAFE IS ASKING ME OUT???

Clearly, that wasn't meant for him- but that doesn't make it any easier to read. He has to assume that's a bad thing- that you're trying to figure out, with the help of your best friend, how to let him down easily.

Rafe groans and tosses his phone back onto the counter, leaving it to go up into his windowless walk-in closet and take back that he texted you at all.

Six:

At the annual bonfire, Rafe is just wandering around looking for someone to talk to. His friends are busy throwing random things into the flames, seeing how high they could make the fire go. He lost interest very quickly. He's feeling down on his luck, after his five poor attempts at getting a date with you, even if no one else knows about any of them- not even you. Its embarrassment not fading, despite the summer passing quickly. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, everything happens for a reason, surely. That doesn't mean he wouldn't really like a chance.

He's standing at the keg, pouring himself another beer when he sees you. You're off, a little in the distance all alone, walking along the shore and occasionally crouching down. He's confused for a moment as to what you're doing, but then he realizes- you're collecting seashells. Of course you are. It makes him smile a little to himself. Everyone around him is so concerned about getting drunk, high, whatever their vice is- but you just want to do your own thing.

He hands his cup off to a kid standing nearby who gratefully takes it, and starts his way down the sand to join you.

"Finding anything good?" He asks as he approaches you.

You're quick to stand up, turning to face him. "Oh, Rafe! Hey." You smile, looking down at your now long empty solo cup, filled almost to the brim with small seashells and pretty rocks. "Yeah, here." You hold out the one you just picked up, dropping it gently into his hand.

He cups the small shell in his hand and smiles, looking up at you again. "It's beautiful." He agrees. "Can I help?"

"Sure." You smile, nodding as you look up at him. The light from the distant bonfire falls right behind him, shining through his hair and his unbuttoned striped shirt. "I don't have a lot of room left, though." You show him the cup.

"Well, you're probably better at finding them than me. I can hardly see anything." Rafe chuckles, shrugging a little as the two of you continue down the beach, the music getting more and more quiet with every ten steps. You can only really hear the waves crashing beside you, despite the water being mostly calm.

You're both silent for a minute or two, scanning the ground for more shells. Rafe's mind is running a million miles a minute. Now's his shot, he's doing better than before- he hasn't offended you, spilled a drink on you, or pushed you into the ocean, everything is calm and there's no one around. Maybe he should make small talk first, bring it up later if you still want to talk to him by the end of the night.

"How's your-"

"So, I-"

You both start talking at the same time, making you both laugh. You count yourself lucky that he can't see how red your face is.

"You go first." Rafe insists, ready to listen to whatever you have to say. He could listen to you talk about anything, for hours; he's sure of it. He could never tire of the sound of your voice.

"Okay, well," You giggle, looking down and picking up a shell you catch a glimpse of in the moonlight. "I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime. Go for coffee, or something like that."

Rafe stops walking, staring at you and fighting back smiling like a crazy person. You wanted to hang out with him? After all this time, after all the energy he's put into trying to ask you out, you would have said yes this whole time?

"Like... like a date?" He asks, mentally slapping his hand against his forehead and trying to remember where the nearest bathroom or closet might be.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want." You reply, turning to face him fully.

He looks over your features as you smile at him, how the ocean breeze has pushed your hair over one shoulder and how a few shorter strands fly around your face. He nods, mouth dry as he tries to find the words. "Yeah, yeah I would love that." He agrees. "I, uh, I was actually going to ask you the same thing." He says, looking down as he kicks away some sand.

"You were?" You giggle. God, the sound of your laugh alone makes his heart beat faster.

"I only tried about five times over the course of the summer, could never make it to actually talking to you, though." Rafe admits, laughing slightly.

"Why not? I don't scare you, do I?" You laugh, tilting your head at him and brushing some hair away from where it's gotten stuck to your lips in the wind.

"Not anymore." Rafe grins, continuing to talk past you and you turn with him, joining his side again as he turns the seashell you have him over in his palm. This time, he wants to relive this night for all the right reasons.

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