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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words.

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case.

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look.

“Carmen,” you warn him.

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair.

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that).

You’re right. And he knows you’re right.

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways.

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist.

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours.

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.”

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?”

You shake your head with a laugh.

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.”

A beat.

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze.

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap.

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend.

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced.

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes.

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution.

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement.

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear.

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you.

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together.

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.

You know him too well.

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house.

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest.

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin.

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time.

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways.

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize.

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.”

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh.

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

-----------------------------------------

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself.

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man.

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake.

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change.

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag.

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug.

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze.

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him.

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about.

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head.

“I don’t,” he answers plainly.

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy.

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.”

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos.

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day.

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love.

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look.

“Okay, fine. I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily.

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence.

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself.

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table.

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law.

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing.

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room.

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips.

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service.

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about.

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part.

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo.

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with.

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one.

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision.

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right.

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time.

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?”

He laughs, glancing sideways at you.

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it.

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up.

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again.

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug.

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull.

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long.

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you.

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever.

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” you reassure him.

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time:

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing.

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was.

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus.

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time.

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice.

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #dont want to walk alone

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rainthespiritual · 9 months ago

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pt 1 , pt 2

Pre-death Tate Langdon fic PART TWO

btw some trigger warnings for the series as a whole are deffinetly: drug abuse, depression, suicide, and topics similar to that even if they don't show up in this specific part THEY WILL EVENTUALLY so I just want yall to be warned ty

TRIGGER WARNING : Tate langdon is a tw tbh and American horror story in general, smoking, talk of abusive dad and family slightly(it'll be talked abt more in other parts), angst, this part is more tame that the other parts will be, and alot of talk on bullying and angsty teen bullshit yk the drill

summery: Tate invited you to his house and talked to you about wanting to be friends again!

sorry if this is bad I didn't get to edit it cuz im using my phone PLZ ENJOY LETS GET INTO IT YUH

"Meet me here again tommorow, same time."

His words have been repeating in your head since yesterday. I mean yeah almost being caught by a teacher scared you shitless... and you didn't want it to happen again but it seemed almost worth it. the way he makes you feel is worth it. I mean this is the most validated you've felt in months.

You are pulled back to reality, to the smell of musty books and to the sound of the library, "___ you aren't listening again." sighing at your so called friend. you almost snap at her but she continues before you can knowing she now has your attention again. the sound of a distant clock ticking puts you more at ease as you try not to get too deppressed. The library is usually a nice safe space for you but sometimes you are followed, but you just have to deal with it. she goes on for a while before saying something that actually causes you to look up at her,

"Do you see that guy staring at me." she waves her head and your eyes meet Tates. he's sitting down at a distant table with a book in his hands but it's clear he isn't reading it. He smiles when you notice him and its also clear he isn't looking at your friend. He's staring at you.

"Yeah I do Heather.." you break eye contact with him hoping the hotness you feel in your cheeks isn't them turning red. Tate also stops looking in your direction and his attention goes to the book.

"I mean he's cute but he's all quiet and weird, ya know? ..kinda like you." she smiles as you sigh. you aren't quiet she just won't let you get a word in. You look back to the table where Tate was at but he is gone, you look around wondering if he was still in the library but there is no sign of him. not even the book he was reading, he must have taken it. it is common for kids at your school to take books to the tables and leave them if they weren't interested or more likely if they were just trying to seem busy. Tho it being frowned upon it happens quite alot.

"I've gotta go." You gather your things and start to stand.

"..where do you have to go?" Heather your friend scoffs slightly thinking you have nothing better to do.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom actually so.. And class is starting soon, see ya." with that you leave almost as fast as you did yesterday, mostly to avoid more questioning and bitching.

It almost being time to meet Tate you make your way to the bathroom you both were at yesterday. its pretty early but it's nice to have some thinking time. you stare at the door listening making sure no one is coming your way. you'd get questioned deffinetly, especially class starting so soon.. you fidget waiting for the bell to ring but it feels like time is going by way slower than it is. After thinking for a while and the bell not ringing still you decide to go in early, I mean maybe no one's in there? like Tate said almost no one ever comes this way. or maybe Tates there early too? maybe that's why he left the library so soon..

"Tate..?" you walk in slowly praying no one other than Tate is in this bathroom. You cautiously have your eyes closed just incase.

"___?.. You're early, hey." you open your eyes to find a nervous looking Tate.

"Hey yeah I am... is- is that okay, or?" you take a deep breath, the bathroom smells like harsh chemicals and it slightly irritates your nose. "Yeah no its fine, just surprised me is all." what he says makes you feel better and you look up to see him smiling at you, his eyes are red and watery and hes repeatedly wiping his nose.

"is there anything wrong?" you ask genuinely concerned. You seem to notice a wave of sadness on his face, or maybe it was just the smell of this bathroom you felt it irritating your eyes so maybe the same was happening to him? or maybe he was sad, he did tend to look sad. remembering all the small times you looked at him in the halls or at him if he was in the same room as you, he was sad. or atleast not smiling.

"Nothing at all, now that you're here." he walks closer to you, looking down at you.

"me? what do you mean?" you knew exactly what he meant, it just felt so surreal that this tall blonde good smelling guy that just so happened to go to school with you they you also used to be friends with could say this. I mean who would have known. all the boys you were used to interacting with never payed that kind of attention to you.

"I just mean I'm glad you're here. what else would I mean?" you smile again enjoying him saying these things. the validation you felt made you feel great, and he knew exactly what to do to make you feel special. not to say he was lying or anything, he wasn't. His confidence radiated off of him and he knew just what to say.

"well you could mean alot of things." he smirks at your response before pausing.

"Here, sit with me again." He climbs up on the sinks, making sure they aren't wet with his sleeve first. you notice a brownish red stain on his sleeve and decide whether ot not to bring it up. you choose to ignore it climbing up next to him. you take a deep breath noticing how your nose is now used to the harsh chemical smell that is all around the both of you.

"I'm surprised you came," he states looking into your eyes, a weird wave of guilt builds up in your stomach remembering how well you two got along. you truly regret not talking to him and hope you can make up for all the time you two have lost together.

" you know... I think about you all the time." he pushes a section of your hair behind your ear, admiring your face again.

you smile wider at him focusing on his pretty brown eyes. They are so dark and mysterious its not even funny. you also take notice of how dark his undereyes are, he must be tired.

"Is that why you were looking at me earlier? " you nervously smirk watching as he gets up off the counter to stand infront of you.

"we should go to my house." he places his arms on the counter making it so he is looking down on you slightly.

"your house?" you gulp.

"yep, my house," he nods, "we'd have fun I swear. I mean no one's even home." this catches you off guard. I mean a boy inviting you to his house was the last thing you expected to happen. Especially at school, a boy is not only inviting you to his house hes inviting you to ditch school with him at his house.. while no one's home.

"Sure, fuck it!" He leaves first making sure no one is around, you sneak out thanking God no one is around. and somehow you guys make it out without being caught. He leads you and you start to get nervous.

"is- is your house close or?" you gulp feeling a tad bit guilty. You've never missed school on purpose before.

"Actually I was thinking of going somewhere first.." he smirks and puts his hand around your shoulders.

"oh.. where?" the ideas of where he could bring you excited you slightly. The air was clear and the sun was hiding behind some clouds. its a gloomy day yet you were glad you were getting to spend it with Tate, something about him hypnotized you and made you feel ways you never felt before.

"The beach, trust me it's cool. especially on days like this.." he smirks more putting your hand in his, his warm soft touch made you blush. You never felt this way about anyone, he made you feel special.

You both walk in silence just enjoying eachothers company until you make it to the beach. You both sat in the sand admiring the ocean and the gloomy sky.

"do you play hookey alot?" you ask smiling already knowing he often does, you just didn't know what else to say.

"just when I get bored, or sad I guess.. I like to come here, y'know when everything gets too much? I come here.." he sighs looking off into the sea, his eyes are shining with the water and you can't help but to admire his beauty.

"No, I totally get that. I get sad alot too, thats why I go to the library. Usually no one follows me." he frowns looking away in the distance making you unable to look in his eyes anymore.

"y'know.. I don't get why you hang out with those assholes, it's clear they give zero shits about you. all they care about is themselves, even I can tell you that." you frown along with him, you want to tell him off but you can't bring yourself to because in the end... he's right. they don't and never cared about you. they never listen to you about your problems or your feelings. It's always about them them them.

"I know.. that's exactly how it is.. but I have no one else, I'm too scared to be alone." you open up a bit to him about how you feel hoping he will actually listen.

"you wouldn't be alone ___, I'd hang out with you. I mean trust me I'm cooler than all those bitches combined!" he laughs knowing he made you smile.

"then I guess I won't be hanging around them anymore. I got you now." you both smile walking the rest of the way to his house, talking about your past and goofing off.

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #ahs fandom #tate langdon #ahs tate langdon #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon fanfic #tate ahs #tate langdon slaying it ONCE AGAIN #i am cringe but i am free #angst #tate langdon being a sexy smexy baddie rjdjdjdjd #i might have a problem #tate langdon is flowing thru my veins #PLEASE GIVE ME REQUESTS OR SUGGESTIONS FOR HEADCANNONS AND FANFIC plz

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fandomnsfw · 2 years ago

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Th Sergeant’s Admirer - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: I actually had writers block and decided to look through some unfinished stuff and came across this it started at 1k words and I decided to see where my idea's took me...It got out of hand. This is the biggest one-shot I've actually ever done. its over 7k and its my first Bucky fic I'm excited to hear every ones thoughts. (if you don't like don't read)

Warnings: Smut, there fluff lots of it, I have a minor fetish or kink for like Bucky's arm so that may leak in this story. (oops)

Description: You’re a sci-fi writer who happens to support Sergeant Barnes rather publicly in an interview for your latest book, which somehow ends with you being asked to help boost the Sergeants PR.

Thank you to my beta who gave this a quick edit last night @lets-imagine-fanfics

*******

“So, Y/N, as a successful writer of a sci-fi book series everyone is wondering who is your favourite Avenger?” The interviewer asked with a bright white smile that was beyond fake in your eyes.

“That depends on what reason? I mean I know everyone wants me to say Captain America because the hero of my book is noble and righteous much like our good Captain, but to be honest; I most admire Sergeant Barnes.” You replied easily clearly shocking the interviewer as her jaw dropped immediately.

“You mean The Winter Solider?” The interviewer asked sceptically.

“No, HYDRA created The Winter Solider by torturing a good man that fought for this country over 70 years ago. The man who now helps the Avengers and their cause is not the assassin they created but the Sergeant finally getting his life back and once again serving his country despite having every right to retire and live a normal life.” You answered easily, your smile finally real as you spoke passionately about your beliefs on the subject.

“So, you believe that the Sergeant shouldn’t be treated like a terrorist and a killer despite his wrongdoings?” The interviewer sassed back making your face drop instantly.

“I’m sorry…so if Miss Wanda Maximoff came in here and made you kill everyone in this room…would you think it fair to get charged for the murders?” You asked causing her to splutter.

“I think this interview is over and I don’t think I will be taking any more interviews from this station. Oh, one more thing…” You started before staring into the camera.

“Sergeant Barnes, if you are watching this, thank you for your service.” You spoke sweetly into the camera making everyone chuckle under their breaths before you took your exit out of the studio, your manager following you with a panicked expression.

As you stepped outside of the building, your manager tried to keep the paparazzi away but pictures were still being taken and their questions were relentless, so you decided to answer some of their inquiries. Holding your hand up they easily quietened down but continued to take pictures.

“Miss Y/L/N, is it true that your favourite avenger is Mr Barnes or was it a publicity stunt?” You shot the person a glare before crossing your arms.

“No, I truly admire Mr Barnes.” You answered with gritted teeth.

“Do you know Mr Barnes personally?” Someone asked in the back.

“No, but I would absolutely love to meet him one day.” You replied with a happy nod and as you did your manager started tugging on your jacket with wide eyes.

As her words flowed into your ear your jaw hit the floor and everyone started screaming questions again, but you couldn’t breathe, everything you had just said was being watched live from a few News stations and Captain America had seen it all.

“That’s the end of the questions today, thank you so much for your patience’s and thank you to my fans who never stop giving.” You muttered robotically as your manager dragged you away from the crowd straight into a black car that was waiting next to the pavement.

As the car drove, you stared at the floor wishing you knew how this had happened but you knew how… you were the only person to ever speak up about the hardships and horrors Mr Barnes must’ve been through… however you never expected to get so much from it, you had just wanted to share your opinion.

“We’re here, Miss Y/L/N.” The driver stated as you stared up at the Stark tower with wide eyes.

Everything from the entrance to the top floor was a blur, your mind couldn’t function knowing you were about to meet an Avenger. As you entered the room you saw three faces that looked familiar and four that didn’t, but you held your head high hoping your nerves weren’t obvious.

“Miss Y/L/N, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.” The most famous man in America spoke, making your eyes widen comically.

“Well, when Captain America asks to meet you…you can hardly say no, Sir.” You chuckled nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear before straightening out your dress.

“Please call me Steve. I asked to meet you to thank you for what you said about Bucky in your interview today. You’re the first person I have seen speak about him with such admiration.” Steve stated happily, his smile lighting up the room in a way no one else probably could.

“It was only the truth, S-Steve.” You stuttered shyly your cheeks flushing as you noticed Tony Stark rolling his eyes which made your eyes narrow.

“I’m sorry, do excuse me but is there an issue, Mr Stark?” You huffed with much more attitude than you probably should’ve been aiming at him.

“I just think your ‘opinion’ is wrong.” He stated with an arrogant smirk.

“And I think you married way out of your league and personally think you have a narcissistic personality, but I kept that part to myself when I spoke of the avengers. No offence to your genius and well achieved wife.” You stated as you gave Pepper a nod of apologies.

“None taken, Miss Y/L/N. However, I believe your admiration for Mr Barnes is actually a good thing…he doesn’t get a lot of good publicity and I think you are good for his PR.” Pepper stated making you nod in agreement.

“The Sergeant hasn’t seen that interview, has he?” You asked your face turning bright red as you assessed the room full of people.

“Actually, he’s being shown it as we speak…he should be done in about… oh here he is now.” Steve stated as the man you’d defended walked through the door.

“Oh, for the love of Thor.” You whispered in embarrassment, your hand covering your face as you shot your manager a panicked look.

“Bucky, this is Y/N Y/L/N from the interview… she’s a big fan.” Steve teased, his smirk not going unnoticed by you.

“I must say, Captain, you are much more of an asshole than I thought… and your arms are way bigger than they look on pictures…” You rambled clearly your filter had completely vanished.

“I am so sorry… when I get nervous, I tend to lose my mouth filter just tell me to shut up…Okay…big fan Sergeant.” You added with a bright red face as you turn towards Bucky and held your hand out for him to shake.

“Thanks… Why am I here, Steve?” He huffed with a very uncomfortable half smile as he shook your hand awkwardly.

“I think you and Y/N should spend some time together in public places…I think it would boost your PR and also make you less antisocial.” Steve snorted making Bucky glare at his longtime friend.

“I am not antisocial, I just don’t like most people, and everything is different… even dating is done on the internet now, it’s stupid.” Bucky rolled his eyes before looking at you with a more focused gaze.

“I appreciate your words, Doll, but I’m not about to force you to spend time with me because you don’t hate me like the rest of America.” Bucky spoke to you, and you shook your head.

“I’m actually a big fan genuinely… I think you’re amazing also I agree, online dating is stupid.” You stated his words had made you smile in a way you hadn’t in a while.

“You’re an interesting woman, I’ll give you that, sweetheart.” Bucky chuckled sending you a panty melting smile that made you literally clutch your metaphorical pearls.

“Bucky used to be quite the ladies' man, back in the day.” Steve snorted suddenly making your eyes shoot towards him.

“I was, until this asshole grew muscles, and no woman would pick me over him.” Bucky huffed playfully with an eye roll.

“No offence, Captain, but I think I’d choose the Sergeant…” You whispered to Steve earning a smile from him.

“I can hear you, Doll.” Bucky whispered teasingly causing your face to flush.

“Well… moving on. I would be happy to spend some time with you, if you wouldn’t mind of course. It would be great to get to know you.” You mumbled in embarrassment your cheeks turning bright pink.

“I guess. What could go wrong?”

Everyone’s famous last words.

RENOWNED SCI-FI AUTHOR DATING THE WINTER SOLDIER!

Those words were sprawled across the front page of the New York Times. It wasn’t that people were assuming you’d date Mr Barnes, but more that you’re embarrassed for Mr Barnes because anyone is crazy if they think that man would want to date a silly Sci-Fi author.

“I really hope he doesn’t think I had anything to do with this.” You muttered to your manager, as you rode the elevator up to the Stark PR Office.

“In what world would you want to date a 100 year old man?” She chuckled making you shoot a glare straight at her.

“In every world wouldn’t I date Mr Barnes. He’s charming, handsome and a gentleman.” You snapped back at your manager, making her look down in shame.

You slapped down the paper as you threw your head back in frustration. You had only been on a few outings with Mr Barnes but somehow the sleaze bag journalists deemed that enough to assume you were dating. Your work phone had been ringing none stop all morning with people asking for quote on your supposed new relationship.

You had finally turned your phone off after sending a text to Steve with your personal phone number. The calls were getting too much, and your head was pounding. Your personal phone started ringing so you hurried to answer the call.

“Doll?” The sergeants voice rang out over the speaker making you jolt up straight as you took speaker mode off and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Mr Barnes.” You muttered sweetly, making him groan.

“I told you to call me Bucky, Doll.” He chuckled making you flush bright red.

“I’m so sorry about the paper, Bucky.” You sighed softly making your manager roll her eyes.

“It’s hardly your fault, sweetheart. It doesn’t bother me let them assume whatever they want. I hope it doesn’t bother you.” He chuckled darkly making you frown.

“It doesn’t. I was more worried you’d be bothered, kind of puts a damper on your single status.” You giggled making him laugh.

“Hey there are worse things. Steve says it’s good PR.” He mumbles causing you to nod only to realise he couldn’t see you.

“I’m popping to the farmers market later would you like to come? Maybe we could go for lunch after?” You asked quietly hoping he would say yes.

“You sure? People might think we’re married next.” He teased making you giggle.

“There are worse things.” You sassed his own words back at him causing another chuckle from the older man.

“Okay, I’ll pick you soon. You okay with bikes?” He asked softly making your heart flutter.

“Hell yes!” You exclaimed happily as you hung up and sent a text with your address.

You quickly ran to get dressed. Sliding on a pair of black skintight cargo pants, khaki green long sleeved cropped Henley with your black leather lace up heels and your teddy bear fur collared leather jacket.

Your hair was curled loosely, your makeup was simple with a glowing base. You deemed the outfit acceptable for the market and a bike ride.

You gave yourself a nod in the mirror, just as you received a text from Bucky telling you he was here. You bid your manager goodbye, telling her to lock up when she left, before running out the house with a smile. You spotted Bucky immediately stood next to his bike with a very serious scowl on his face.

When he spotted you, his scowl was replaced by a grin as he took you in, his eyes scanning you up and down. You flushed softly as his arm brushed you when you were close enough.

“You look beautiful.” He stated awkwardly as he hopped on his bike passing you a helmet which you glared at him for since he didn’t look like he was about to put one on.

“Thank you. Though these are my casual clothes.” You giggled before putting on the helmet.

He held out his hand helping you onto the bike behind him. You were unsure of where to put your hands, so you just gripped onto the back of his leather jacket, however he seemed unsatisfied with that, so he grabbed your hands and looped them around his waist. You linked your fingers together tightly trying not to let your mind stray to how solid his abdomen was.

He soon sped off causing your heart to pound in your chest. You loved bikes but you were always too scared to get your own so you enjoyed it while you could. He sped around cars carefully until finally, much to your dismay, you arrived at the farmer's market.

He helped you off the parked bike before hopping off himself. He looked around noticing a few stares causing you to glare at some of them. You ignored them as you looped your arm with his metal one which appeared to shock him as he immediately tensed up.

He gradually relaxed, sending you a grateful smile as he patted your hand that was gripping his bicep with his human one. You both began strolling through the market until you spotted a stall with fresh fruit. You tugged him towards the stall with a soft giggle as he rolled his eyes.

“What’s your favourite?” You asked as you scanned the contents of the stall.

“Plums, I guess.” He grumbled in his usual grumpy tone.

“Is being out with me that bad?” You asked with a sad frown as you began letting go of his arm.

His eyes widened as his hand shot out to keep your arm around his bicep. He shook his head silently before pulling you closer.

“I can hear them talking.” He explains and suddenly you felt awful for forgetting he could hear better than you.

“Ignore them. Let’s get some plums and, Hmm how about strawberry and cherries?” You muttered casually as you pulled him towards the strawberries.

“Whatever you want, Doll.” He chuckled softly as he allowed you to tug him along.

You finally let go so you could go pay but Bucky beat you to it paying for everything in the bag as you stood off to one side with a pout on your face. Once he’s done paying, he turned around to face you but suddenly his eyes flicked behind you widening.

Before you knew what was happening Bucky grabbed you by the waist and spun you to the other side of himself just in time to see a guy on a moped speed past Bucky. He’s just saved your life your eyes brimmed with tears from the shock but as Bucky saw this, he must’ve thought he’d hurt you because he instantly pulled away.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Doll.” He whispered; guilt evident in his voice.

“No, you didn’t. You saved my life.” You sniffled with a pout as you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently as a few people were watching the both of you.

“Mhmm, thank you, Bucky.” You whispered against his solid chest.

“Come on, let go get some lunch.” He muttered into your hair before pulling away. Though he kept his arm around your shoulder as you kept yours around his waist.

You strolled down the sidewalk before leading Bucky into a little café that you enjoyed. You spent a lot of time writing in this café so sometimes fans would find you here, but you ignored the stares as you made your way to the checkout. You ordered your usual as Bucky read over the drink and food options, in the end he ordered the same as you before you both found a little table just outside the café.

“So, your book must be quite popular?” He asked softly making you smile proudly.

“Yeah, I just published my second one in the series.” You replied happily.

Just as he was about to reply a young girl came up to the table holding a copy of your book which made you smile widely. She seemed a little scared to talk so you helped her by starting the conversation.

“How are you liking the second one?” You asked softly with a bright smile still on your face.

“Hi, I’m Veronica, It’s amazing! I’m such a big fan I used to read your work on Wattpad before you published. You’re so talented.” She rambled excitedly her enthusiasm making you chuckle.

“Oh, thank you, that’s so sweet.” You laughed happily as Bucky watched the exchange quietly.

“Is it true that you two are dating?” She suddenly asked making you glance at Bucky who seemed to stiffen in his seat.

“Sorry, that was really inappropriate. Well either way your true fans are totally routing for you! It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.” She suddenly said before you could answer.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Bucky replied politely with a small nod.

“Can I get a picture with both of you?” She asked rather shyly.

You glanced at Bucky who gave you a nod before you looked towards Veronica and gave her an affirmative nod. You both stood up one on either side of her before she pulled out her camera. Bucky had a straight face as she aimed the front camera upwards.

“Smile, Bucky.” You snorted as you nudged his metal arm.

“Sorry, Doll.” Bucky huffed with a playful eye roll which made Veronica laugh.

She took her picture and thanked you both before running off back to her table where her friends were waiting. You glanced at Bucky who seemed awkward after the encounter, but you nudged him before you both took your seats.

“You could’ve said we weren’t dating.” He said suddenly making you frown.

“Would you prefer I told them that?” You asked seriously.

“No, but you don’t have to let people think you’d date me just to spare me.” He sighed softly making you pout a little.

“I would totally date you.” You blurted out making both yours and his eyes widen. You covered your face as it began heating up with a blush.

“Hey, Doll?” Bucky whispered as he pried your hands away. “I’d totally date you too.” He teased making you hide behind your hands again.

“I know you haven’t danced since the 40s, however there’s a really cool bar that plays stuff from 1930-1960s, if you’d like to go with me tonight?” You asked as you lowered your hands, once again not daring to look him in the eyes.

“You asking me to go dancing with you, Doll?” He chuckled playfully as our food and drinks arrived.

“Yes.” You giggled softly as you pulled out your phone and passed it to him once you’d found the video you wanted. It was a video of you dancing at the same bar with your grandad.

“That’s my grandad, he taught me how to swing dance.” You chuckled as Bucky watched the video.

“You look like you jumped right out of my era.” He laughed as he seemed to be enjoying the video.

“What’s this song? It’s quite good.” He asked with a small smile on his face.

“One of the greatest musicians of the 50s and 60s Elvis Presley. The song is Jailhouse Rock.” You replied casually as to not make him feel bad for not knowing.

“I would love to go dancing with you. Although I don’t know how good I’ll be now.” He grumbled awkwardly as he seemed to shrink a little.

“We’ll start slow and if you don’t wanna dance, that’s fine too.” You said trying to ease his tension.

“Deal. Thank you, Doll.” He chuckled his mood lightening instantly.

**************

You were wearing a taffeta midnight blue, a line dress that had a wrap style around the bust, paired with cream leather original Mary Jane heels. A cream lace snap handbag with pearl earrings for accessories.

Your makeup was simple with a black wing and red lips, which you checked for the fifth time making your mother roll her eyes. You ignored it as you turned to your grandmother with a concerned frown.

“Are you sure I can borrow great nana’s stuff?” You asked your grandmother for the third time.

“Honey, I’m hardly going to wear that stuff now. Plus, with that hunk of a man as your date, who would say no.” She whispered making you laugh at her words.

“Hey, that’s my hunk, even if he is older than you.” You laughed making her join you as your mother just shook her head at your antics.

Just then there was a knock on your front door making you freeze as you look at your grandmother who seemed to be contemplating running for the door. Your shot her a glare before making a break for it, you ran rather fast for someone in heels, but you hurried to grab your bag and keys before bolting out of the apartment.

“Woah! You okay there, Doll?” Bucky laughed as you ran right into him.

“My mom and Nana are in there.” You whispered shyly making his eyes widen.

“My nana brought round my great nana’s dress.” You added as he finally took in your outfit as he stepped back.

“Wow.” He whispered under his breath before clearing his throat and standing up straight as you took in his appearance.

He was wearing a black double-breasted suit with a white shirt and black satin tie. He had black shiny shoes too match his hair has been cut too which made you both sad and excited all at the same time. You’d miss his long hair, but you couldn’t argue he looked hotter than hell with short hair.

“Fucking hell.” You whisper under your breath as you tried to stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

“My sentiments exactly.” Bucky chuckled as he scanned you up and down once again.

“I keep forgetting you can hear better than me.” You laughed awkwardly as you held your small bag tightly in your hands.

“It’s fine. Come on, I borrowed Steve’s car so you wouldn’t have to ride the bike in a dress.” He stated as he held his left arm out for you.

You were happy he finally warmed up to touching you with his metal arm, usually he tried to use his right arm whenever he touched you. Unless you made the first move.

You drove to the bar in silence as Bucky drummed away on the steering wheel as if trying to bat away whatever anxiety was eating away at him. You reached over to grasp his hand in yours, giving him a soft smile, silently telling him you were here.

“We can turn around, Buck.” You whispered gently, your face softening.

“No. No, I can do this.” He replied just as softly.

He released your hand before opening the driver's side door and stepping out. He ran around to the passenger door to open it for you, holding out his hand for you, his leather gloves still on much to your disappointment. You took his hand with a vibrant grin taking over your face.

As you walked inside Bucky must’ve been expecting to be stared at again because he kept his head down and his other hand in his pocket. However, when you nudged him, he finally looked up only for his eyes to widen as he looked around.

“Is that my face?” He asked as his jaw hit the floor.

“Yeah, the walls are covered with historical war figures. The owner, Sal, has had that picture up here since the world found out, said and I quote ‘These government bastards take everything and give nothing.’” You chuckled as he glanced up to find everyone staring, not in malice but in respect.

Once everyone had given a nod of respect, they went back to their nights. You pulled Bucky to the bar as he seemed to relax a lot more now. He was glancing around in awe of everything, what you didn’t realise was that for Bucky, you’d just given him a second to remember who he used to be.

“You’re amazing.” He suddenly blurted out making you jump a little.

“I think the same thing about you, Sergeant.” You giggled as you order a whiskey and a martini.

You sat chatting over two drinks before jailhouse rock came on and Bucky stood from his seat, holding out his hand silently and you took it happily.

He spun around as you reached to dance floor before his feet started moving subtly at first until he finally gave into it and letting his muscle memory from the 40s take him back. You were both so in sync with each other even when he did the first lift, thank you God you’d worn the booty shorts underneath. You were having so much fun that 4 songs went by before finally you both decided to get a drink.

“I’ve not danced like this since 1942.” He pants a little making you chuckle as you sipped a coke.

“You dance very well, Sergeant Barnes.” You flirted, batting your lashes at him.

“As do you, Miss Y/L/N.” Bucky chuckled equally as flirty.

You chatted for the rest of the night until it got to 2am when Sal finally announced he was closing. You and Bucky said goodnight to those who were leaving too, before making your way to the car. You didn’t want the night to end but you had to sleep eventually.

You held Bucky’s hand all the way home, occasionally smiling over at the older man who would smirk but never take his eyes off the road. You hadn’t ever felt this connected to someone before, it felt like how they described love in books.

You both walked up the stairs your arms wrapped around his bicep enjoying the feeling as he remained rather silent. You leaned your head against his bicep as you arrived at your front door.

“I had so much fun tonight.” You whispered shyly making him glance down at you with a pleased smile on his face.

“Me too.” He responded quietly; his eyes full of adoration.

“I would very much like to do this again.” You stated calmly as you pulled away, your back now facing your front door.

“That can be arranged.” He chuckled as he stepped a little closer causing you back to press against the door.

You stared into each other’s eyes longingly as your heart began racing against your chest. You never wanted to kiss someone as badly as you did at that moment. His eyes were slightly dazed as they drifted to your lips, until finally he granted your silent wish.

His surprisingly soft lips were on your red ones. Thank God you’d worn your good lipstick. His hand came up so carefully to touch your cheek as he urged you closer. It was then that you had realised he didn’t have gloves on, and it was his metal hand on your face.

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of the cold metal on your bare skin. He must’ve thought something different because he pulled back looking guilty about something, which confused you until he tried putting his gloves back on. You instantly snatched the leather out of his hands before grabbing his metal hand and being back to your face.

“I made that noise because I wasn’t expecting it and I definitely wasn’t expecting how turned on I got from your metal hand touching me.” You chuckled awkwardly making his eyes widen a little before he was suddenly on you again. His lips kissing you with much more passion and less innocence than the first one.

He backed you up until finally your back hit the door and your hands flew around his neck, pulling him closer - if it was even possible. His flesh hand was on the door at the side of your head, whilst his metal one was cupping your cheek.

You both got lost in the kiss for a few more minutes until you were out of breath. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. He looked down at you with hooded eyes as his metal thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“God, you’re making it really hard to be gentleman right now.” He whispered against you lips like he was trying to do anything to distract himself.

“You're not using me for a lay, are you?” You asked softly making his face sober up instantly.

“No, I would never do that to you, Doll.” He replied seriously making you grin from ear to ear.

“Then this is the 21st century, Buck, women can do what they want. So, Sergeant…would you like to come in for some coffee?” You asked in a sultry voice that instantly brought back that same dazed look.

“I don’t know what kind of idiot would say no to you.” He chuckled huskily as he placed open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling back completely.

You took that opportunity to spin around and unlock your door silently. When you got inside the apartment Bucky trudged behind you slowly, as if waiting for you to change your mind. You weren’t going to, granted you wouldn’t usually bring a first date home, but it wasn’t like Bucky was a stranger. You had been friends for a few weeks, coffee dates and lunch plans even a movie at one point, so you had no regrets inviting this sweet man in.

He rarely allowed you to pay for anything, always held the door open for you, always helped you up and downstairs like you were a lady. You were a woman sure but a ‘lady’ you weren’t graceful or polite enough to be one. But that didn’t matter to Bucky because he always treated you like one. Yes, it’s slightly outdated but he also respects your opinions and values them. He really listens when you talk even about things he doesn’t understand.

“Would you like me to make the coffee while you sit down. Dancing in heels can’t be kind to your feet?” He asks gently leaving you smiling like an idiot.

“Coffee is for the morning, Sergent.” You whispered seductively as you grabbed his metal hand and started pulling him towards the bedroom.

“You are a minx.” Bucky chuckled as he followed you until you came to your bedroom.

“I-I haven’t…” he started but strayed from his own words as he contemplated how to say it.

“You haven’t had sex in a while?” You finished for him making his eyes lower to the ground.

“We can wait, if you want?” You asked softly as you cupped both his cheeks making him look at you.

“No, it’s not that, I just don’t want to disappoint you.” He mumbled shyly making your heart literally stutter in your chest.

“You could never disappoint me unless you ever forced yourself to do something you weren’t comfortable with.” You whispered soothingly making a smile tug at his lips. You stepped back and confidently undid you dress before letting it fall to the floor leaving you in underwear and boots shorts.

“You’re one of a kind, Y/N Y/L/N.” He whispers against your lips before you began helping him remove his jacket and tie.

“So are you. You quite literally just turned me on saying my name.” You teased, your tone flirty as your hands tugged at the short hairs at the back of his head, sliding them down until you were at the buttons of his shirt. You began undoing each button until he finally shed the damn thing.

“Well, I do apologise, Miss Y/L/N, let me rectify that.” He replied playfully as he grabbed the back of your thigh, pulling you up and wrapping your legs around him. He then carried you over to the bed with ease as his hand gripped at your thighs.

He lowered you down so gently you wished he’d be rougher, but you knew he’d have to work up to that, just like with his metal arm. You stared into his eyes before running your hand over his chest and all the way to his metal arm. He stiffened for a second before smirking at you.

“You appear to have some sort of fetish for my arm, Doll.” He whispered

“It’s called a kink and 100%.” You giggled making him roll his eyes.

“You strike me as a woman who likes romance and gentle acts, but I have a feeling I’m wrong.” He chuckled making you smirk.

“Oh yeah, I love romance too but without sounding too crude, Sergeant, I’d rather you fuck me like an unhinged animal.” You stated confidently making his eyes widen.

“Fuck…can’t say shit like that, baby.” He groaned as he buried his head in your bare collar bone. The new nickname had your heart practically out of your chest as you let out a little whimper.

“Fuck me, Sergeant.” You whimpered a hint of desperation in your voice as you clutched at both of his biceps.

“Need to do something first.” He growled as he started down the bed and before you could ask, your panties and shorts were off, and Bucky was on you.

His lips leaving kisses and nibbles wherever he went. You had no doubt the inside of your thighs would be covered in love bites by the end, but you didn’t care. When he licked a stripe up the top of your inner thigh a breath away from you heat, your back arched off the bed as your hands gripped at the sheets.

“You don’t have to, Buck.” You whispered sweetly despite that being the opposite of what you actually wanted.

“Oh, I know but I’ve been thinking about doing this all week, baby. Need to taste you.” He said his tone pleading, before finally his lips were on your clit dropping a small kiss there.

His tongue licked up your slit with the happiest groan you’d ever heard before. His tongue began drawing small shapes on the tiny bundle of nerves. You bit you lip to contain the noises that were coming out your mouth, but when Bucky saw this his flesh hand came down on the outside of your thigh. The sensation had you gripping his hair with both of your hands.

“Dirty girl.” He whispered into your heat before his tongue was back on you.

His flesh fingers came down to join as he slid two inside you at an agonisingly slow pace. You half wished he’d use his metal hand, but you were sure if that would be as fun as it sounded in your head. He immediately curled his fingers upwards making you practically see stars.

“Oh, fuck yes, Buck.” You moaned as he sucked lightly on your bundle of nerves.

“God, you taste like heaven.” Bucky groaned as he starts lapping away at you like a mad man. You screamed out unable to hold it back anymore as you began practically humping his face.

His metal hand gripped your thigh and suddenly you felt yourself building up to that high. He slid the warmed metal up your torso up to your bra before he ripped it off, the two cups no longer sewn together. You couldn’t even be angry because it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“So close…please, Bucky.” You moaned as your back once again arched off your bed.

“I got you…cum for me, baby.” He muttered huskily, his breath fanning across your clit before he started his ministrations back up.

His tongue felt so wet and soft it was making your head spin, how he was eating you like a man starved. It sounded dirty but the noise only served to drive you closer to the edge. He started thrusting his two fingers harshly into your g-spot making your eyes roll back into your skull.

“B-Bucky.” You stuttered between moans as you finally fell over the edge. You thrust against his face riding out your high until it became too sensitive to do so.

“Need you, Buck, p-please.” You whimpered as you began undoing his slacks.

“You’re so pretty when you beg, baby.” He chuckled teasingly as he pulled himself up, wiping his stubble covered face as he smirked down at you.

“If you want me to beg, Sergeant, I’ll beg.” You whispered in a sultry tone.

“Please, Sergeant, need your cock…need it so bad please, sir.” You begged prettily, batting your eye relishes at him with a hint of faux innocence.

“Fuck, baby.” Bucky groaned as you pulled down his pants and threw them to one side with his boxers.

You glanced down at his member it was thick. He was big too, but his thickness was beyond anything’s you’d had before. God that was gonna fill you up. You bit your lower lip as you tried to not moan just from the sight of his painfully hard member.

His metal fingers wound around your neck softly not wanting to hurt you but just the feeling of the fast-cooling metal had your head spinning. You leaned into his touch making his eyes darken as he squeezed once before going back to resting it there.

“Not gonna last long, baby.” He whispered as he lined his member up with your entrance.

“Don’t care just need to feel you. Can cum inside - on contraception.” You stated desperately, the words seemed to make him beyond enthusiastic.

He slid inside you, stretching you a little leaving a slight burn in its wake but you relished in it. You’d never felt so full, it was bliss. Your arms around him, dragging your nails down his back with enough force he groaned into your ear.

“You feel so good.” He moaned deeply into your neck as he left a small bite there.

“Fuck me, Bucky.” You pleaded as you left small kisses trailing down his face until you finally got to his lips, bringing him in for a heated kiss.

He began thrusting in and out of your heat, grunting and groaning into your mouth as you battled for dominance. You knew you’d hand it over in an instant but the little battle you were having was spurring him to go faster and deeper.

His metal hand was still on your throat as he completely took over your every sense. You could feel yourself building again, you’d never came from penetration before, but you felt so good right now. You whimpered into the kiss before pulling away to look into his eyes.

“Bucky.” You moaned quietly as his thrusting became stuttered. You began thrusting your hips inwards as you felt you peak nearing once again.

“Cum with me, Y/N.” He groaned as he stared into your eyes.

With a few more well times thrusts from both parties, you both came together, clinging to one another as you both rode out your orgasms. Bucky finally stilled as he stared down at you with a new emotion that you hadn’t ever seen in his face, but you decided at that moment it was the prettiest face you’d ever seen.

“You’re going to steal my heart, Sergeant Barnes.” You whispered breathlessly against his lips as your eyes flickered between his lips and eyes.

“I’ll keep it safe.” He replied sweetly as he seemed to catch his breath back.

Bucky tried to clean you but you stated you’d need to pee anyway, so you didn’t get a UTI which he understood. He slid his boxers on after giving himself a wipe as you finally finished and ran back to bed in his white shirt that had been discarded on the floor.

“You look tiny in my clothes.” He chuckled as he pulled you into his arms the second you were on the bed.

You let out a giggle as you snuggled into his chest happily. This was more than you could ever ask for, this man had worked his way into your thoughts and life like he was always supposed to be there. And you didn’t have a single complaint.

“Night, Buck.” You whispered as he pulled the covers over both of you.

“Night, Doll.” He replied softly as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

*********

It was sometime in the early morning when the sound of broken whimpers dragged you from your slumber. You sat up, grogginess still resonating as you glanced down at Bucky was gripping the sheets in a deadly grip. You immediately knew what this was. Your father had PTSD after 10 years of serving his country and you knew what a night terror looked like.

You knew you shouldn’t wake him because he could get violent especially if you touched him. So, you decided to get up and make coffee. It was 6am which was an acceptable time, so you got out of bed despite wanting desperately to wake him up.

You walked to the kitchen and began preparing the coffee machine. Once everything was prepped you started the machine and made you way to the bedroom with no intention of being quiet. You dug around your closet for a pair of joggers that used to be your brothers that you figured would fit before turning around.

“Babe!” You shouted towards the bed but there was no change.

You glanced down at his face that was still scrunched in a pained face and you decided you didn’t care if he hurt you, you couldn’t leave him like that.

You decided a gentle approach might work so you slipped into bed and began kissing his naked chest. It was around the time you pressed one just under his ear his whimpers of pain turned into needy groans.

“Doll?” He groaned as you nibbled in ear lobe before pulling away.

“Morning, Buck, coffees on.” You giggled as he arms wrapped around you.

“It’s still early baby what are you doing up?” He asked softly since you’d only had 3 hours of sleep.

“You we’re having a night terror, but I knew I shouldn’t wake you cos obviously it’s dangerous but you wouldn’t wake up even when I stomped around the house like an elephant. So, I kissed you awake.” You replied gently hoping not to make him feel bad.

“I’m so sorry, Doll.” He muttered as he sat up, staring at bed with a scowl on his face.

“My dad served for 10 years. He finally retired when I was in high school…but he still has some night terrors even now.” You supplied before taking his metal hand in yours.

“It’s normal to have them when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do, Buck. I don’t mind I just hate that you have to suffer through them.” You whispered sadly as you climbed into his quilt covered lap.

“You’re too sweet to me Doll.” He muttered shyly into your chest; his head buried completely in your breast.

You ran your fingers through his short hair making him sigh happily as his waist wrapped around you tightly. He eventually pulled away his eyes boring into yours as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“How did I get so lucky?” He chuckled as you preened from the compliment.

“It’s not luck. I think I was made for you.” You whispered jokingly making him roll his eyes.

“Mmm, that would make sense.” He laughed as you climbed off his lap.

“I found you some of my brother's joggers for you.” You stated as you passed him the joggers.

“Thank you, Doll. I’m surprised you don’t want me gone yet. We practically spent a full 24 hours together.” He laughed as he stepped out the bed and slid into the comfy pants.

“You’re very goo-”

Suddenly your phone was blowing up with notifications from messages and Google alerts that told you when something was published about you. You glanced down at the newest article but this one actually brought a smile to your face.

“What’s going on?” He asked cautiously as he glanced over your shoulder.

‘Secretly sweeter than Cap?’ Was the caption written across the New York Times digital paper today.

‘It appears our most hated avenger may be our new favourite. James was seen with our favourite sci-fi author at the market yesterday morning buying fruit when a bike almost ran her over and according to my sources was quickly spun out of harms way by the Sergeant himself. (How very rom-com of you, Mr Barnes.) Later that morning the couple was spotted talking to a fan of Y/N’s and even taking pictures with her. (Picture below.)

Now as I was editing this article it came to my attention that they were also found to have gone dancing later that day which was apparently filmed by one of the Sergeants few fans. (Link below)

This may be our new favourite couple. We wish you the best Ship/Name!’

You couldn’t believe it finally people were warming to him, and you couldn’t be happier. You glanced at him to see his eyes widened but you could see a small smile forming on his lips. As he glanced at the pictures that had been taken of you both.

“I like these pictures.” He stated seriously making you giggle.

That’s when Bucky’s phone started going off. He quickly answered the phone before putting it on speaker as soon as he knew it was Steve.

“You didn’t come home last night.” He said first making you giggle again which you tried to cover up with your hand.

“On the first date, Bucky?” Steve whispered like it was beyond scandalous.

“It’s the 21st century, Cap!” You huffed as you began walking to the kitchen, Bucky following you closely behind.

“Yes, I’m aware. Times have changed.” He grumbled rather childishly.

“Don’t be sad, Cap. You need to loosen up. Get laid.” You teased making Bucky laugh whole heartedly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m done with this conversation. Have a good day we’ve got no work today so come back whenever.” He groaned with what you imagined was an eye roll.

“Oh, I will definitely have a good day. Bye, Steve.” Bucky chuckled as he brought you in for a heated kiss.

“Let’s get you fed and some coffee then we’re going back to your bedroom.” He growled playfully making you flush softly.

“Yes, Sergeant.” You moaned against his lips before running to get coffee as Bucky started cooking.

You could get used to this.

#fluff #smut #imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant #barnes #bucky #reader insert #marvel #the avengers #writer!reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #buck x writer!reader #Sergeant Barnes x reader #the winter soldier

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simplegenius042 · 7 months ago

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Music Monday and Moodboard of WIP + Phrase/Dialogue

Tagged by @icecutioner @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic and @shallow-gravy

Tagging @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @voidika @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @deputy-morgan-malone @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @sleepyconfusedpotato @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard and @alypink + anyone else who wants to join. Taglist here.

(Update: So if you happened to have been pinged again, sorry, I edited/corrected a mistake and suddenly that made the tags inoperable so I had to make them functional again).

One song for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles each and two moodboards for a WIP in The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore is a Fallout fic series, and Fallout is mostly set in America, and what better to describe the best parts of America than John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads". While I know there's a Fallout version for this song sung by Spank, I'll save that one when analyzing its role in What Happened To Vault Number 76? As for now, John Denver's version encapsulates Ortega "Ore" Brantley and Marissa "Ress" Bishop's journey, as well as my Fallout protagonist OCs. Narrative-wise, this song describes both Ore and Ress' acknowledgement of their beginning roots (Appalachia and New Reno in New California respectively) and the comfort these homes bring, but also how they'll never lose sight of their true home, and how no matter their father, Arcane Urias, attempts to persuade them otherwise, they'll always trail their roads back home.

youtube

"Almost heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River Life is old there, older than the trees Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze

Country roads, take me home To the place I belong West Virginia, mountain momma Take me home, country roads."

What better fic from The Silver Chronicles is suited for Vance Joy's one-hit wonder than my Six of Crows fic How Good Is A Heist If It's Improvised? A song that acts like a relatable tune about pop culture but is a cleverly disguised bittersweet tale of love and longing mixing with the emotional turmoil of escapism from reality, and my fic which acts like a comedic modern-ish retelling of the Dreg's heist against one of Ketterdam's richest motherfuckers filled with action, drama and romance but is in fact very depressing in reality only made humorous (dark or light notwithstanding) through the perspective of the fic's only two unreliable narrators, my traumatised criminal OCs Isiah Popov and Gemini Teal. Anyway, enjoy!

youtube

"Here's this movie that I think you'll like This guy decides to quit his job and head to New York City This cowboy's running from himself And she's been living on the highest shelf

Ah ooh-ooh-ooh, ah oh And they come unstuck

Lady, running down to the riptide Taken away to the dark side I wanna be your left hand man I love you when you're singing that song And I got a lump in my throat 'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

I just wanna, I just wanna know If you're gonna, if you're gonna stay I just gotta, I just gotta know I can't have it, I can't have it any other way

I swear she's destined for the screen Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen."

The Time Guard is an original work set before, around and within the canon events of The UnTitledverse. It follows Timekeeper, a droid who's purpose was to observe the Time stream and properly utilize the Time Watch only when absolutely necessary. Despite using it during dire circumstances in the events of the Jagged Instincts Novelisation, the Time Court, overseen by the Time Bureau Authority's supreme leader, Judge Khronos, and with the prosecution lead by Leviticus, declared Timekeeper had stepped out of line and also lost the Time Watch to a Time Vortex in the process. So Timekeeper is demoted as expendable and decides to found a team that will do Khronos' dirty (and often life-threatening) jobs to get in his good graces again, calling it the "Time Guard". A multitude of characters in the beginning of its foundation (and even after) come and go, though two have never been more linked than a Carmine scout drone designated "J.O.E" and Edward Carmine's most loyal security drone subordinate, designated "K.I.L.L.J.O.Y", not only coming from Jagged Instincts, but also after The Perfect Storm saga, and they're relationship during The Time Guard can be summed up as "cheerful naive optimist and brooding angry pessimist forced into a get-along brother shirt". So here's the closest song I believe emphasizes.

youtube

"Ah such a beautiful day, uh Yeah, the sun's shinin' in a beautiful way, uh Gonna take a shower, brush my teeth, and-" "Life is ultimately meaningless."

"Uh, uh, but I'll get out of the house. Get on the road, top down, hands out. Put on my favorite song and nod to the rhythm." "The planet's being destroyed by your carbon emissions."

"Oh! But I, I, I'll head to class Try my best on every test till I pass And my grades are screamin' in my face (Hey!)" "Ninety-eight percent of what you learn is a waste."

"I get to hang out with all my friends My friends are the friendliest friends Can't think of a better way to spend my time." "Your brain is flawed, and all your friends will die."

"Never mind, I'm alive in the greatest nation, so proud of-" "The exploitation of the natives?" "This graceful bird means freedom for all!" "Tell that to the slaves, and bald eagles aren't bald!"

"I can live in the moment, milk every second." "At any time, you could get clinical depression." "But I'll just be happy, no matter what's in store." "It's quite genetic, and we have no cure." "Uh, at least

We are young ("Not for long") Life is fun ("It only goes downhill") We gotta make the most of it, make the most it ("Or you'll regret it") We are young ("For now") Life is fun ("To some people") We gotta make the most of it, make the most of it!" ("Good luck")

And lastly two moodboards + an excerpt phrase/dialogue for WIPs from The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles.

rules: show a moodboard and an important phrase or dialogue from the current fic you are writing!

WIP: The UnTitled Stories - Prologue

If I may... I'd like to ask you a question. One which has plagued me ever since I was introduced to it. What do you think dictates humans: The mind? Or the body? This was a query originally formed by French philosopher Rene Descartes in the 17th century; one that drove him to develop a concept called dualism. A concept that elaborated the distinction between the mind and body as separate entities, whereas the mind procured thought, mental processes and housed consciousness, the body focused on structure, our instincts, the neurons and the brain itself. Descartes had implied the mind could control the body, but the body could also influence the mind when it needed to, though ultimately had no control. However, despite Descartes' famous words, "I think, therefore I am", modern psychologists didn't believe it to be that simple. Humans worked like a machine, our organs merely cogs serving a function in the system. To take out even one has irreparable consequences, a disruption that could lead us to falter and break down and supposedly become useless, or our certain demise, which earns the same results of uselessness. Now, to deprive humans of one of these components leads to total system failure, regardless if its because of disuse or death. In other words, neither the mind nor the body can continue without this system. On that note, if this system is keeping the human body functioning, the question re-contextualizes from whether the mind controls the body, and vice versa, to instead what this system is trying to keep operating; itself, or our consciousness? The complexion of this debate can be hard to wrap your head around, especially if your introduction to it came from a source as dubious as mine had been, but this did not diminish my personal affinity towards it. To be clearer, I had been led to believe that if the system exists to function, then it must be to either support itself or the battery that drives it, not both. It's believed that by determining the dominating source that dictates humanity, a whole slew of concepts and functions will become clearer to understand, easier to deduce an explanation and an answer. To cease the uncertainty in our lives, which is the only thing that makes everyone equal in this meritocracy. By identifying the force that drives us, we can better understand ourselves, making arguments like free will and determinism, instincts and self-control, nature and nurture, our ability to change and adapt in socialization, perception of our identity and sense of individual self, among other things... well, clear cut. Or at least, that's what I had been told to believe. Not so much now. Though if anyone had asked me about my opinion on the matter back then, riding as a passenger on that bus, and if I felt inclined to share, I would have spouted my blind agreement to the belief. That never happened though. I had been lead to believe that to reach the conclusive answer to the dictating source of our actions; whether it was the mind or the body, I had to be placed in an academically social environment that would push my boundaries for the next three years. Determine the dominating victor of either consciousness or reflex, and take satisfaction in the answer to my curious nature. And though I would later discard this goal... the fact remained, it had been my original intention, one I had gone to such costly lengths for as demonstrated in our first year. And the fact remains that, while on that bus, on our way to this very school, I had every intention to follow that pursuit through til the very end. That is, of course, until I had met you…

WIP: Silva's Hope [Content Warning: Descriptive depiction of a violent death]

An ugly croak escaped from the Peggie's lips, his mouth agape like a lake trout. But instead of suffocating from a lack of air, he was choking from the dagger that pierced through his throat. Silva gripped the handle as she dug the blade further into the man's esophagus, blood seeping out of the opening. The red flowed down, staining his shirt and her gloves. The Peggie swung his arms out weakly, one hand managing to futilely claw at her wrist. She paid no mind to it. Is this all I am good for? She twisted the blade, gritting her teeth as she kicked the Peggie's knee down, swiftly sinking her knife down further. His grip went slack, and his eyes began to glaze. But she wasn't done yet, not with the burning fire eating through her veins. Is this all I'll ever be? Her free hand caught the man's blonde hair. She dug out the red-stained silver blade and slashed it across his throat, widening the cut. A source of fear? A beast with bloodied hands? She stabbed the blade against his head, pulling it out, then puncturing again, repeatedly, like a butcher chopping thawed meat. I gave you a chance, didn't I? A chance to turn back, to put the gun down, to turn a blind eye while I made my escape... Pulling the blade out, she tried to breathe, to calm the rage engulfing her heart, cascading over her mind. But it refused; it demanded it's release, to have her take it out on the man who's eyes have glazed. ...And yet, he did not choose to value his life, instead the words of his Profeta. Fraudulent lies that outweighed common sense, self-preservation, and moral understanding. Her teeth gritted, breathing rapidly, ignoring the bullet that inflamed the skin in her thigh. She raised her knife, red dripping down onto her head and shoulder. Looking down at the Peggie, she shouted out the wrath stuck in her voice, and broke through his skull. If this is the path they all will follow, then she won't waste time giving them chances they won't take.

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thefallenangelsgang · 7 months ago

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As always, only half finished and kinda edited (as most of my bg3 writing is)

This is the Weave Lesson scene. I'm playing with using game dialogue and my own for kinda the first time for this maybe fic. I can't tell how it's going quite yet.

the only context you need for this scene is Gale spends his evenings practicing his spellbook in early levels and he gets frustrated at the pace he's crawling at. I have a fragment of this earlier in this scene where he slams his book onto his alchemy table (cause my game Gale was our potion brewer extraordinaire) and Wynleth hears glass breaking. its a passing mention in this.

(EDIT: there is something else. Wynleth describes being percieved directly by Lathander. This is a reference to her encounter with the god during her Paladin vows. I haven't ironed it out but the gist is she has spoken directly with the god once before)

I'm gonna also try a new way of formatting these posts.

------------------------------

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Gale huffs and runs his hands through his hair. I can see the mental battle he’s losing behind his eyes. Eventually he gives in.

“I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Mastering it felt as natural as breathing air. So losing it now feels like another kick in a series of blows to my ego. I suppose that was half of it.” He brings up that projection again. “She meant to bring low again, to humble me.”

Absent-mindedly, he begins to play with his earring and exactly who is hovering above his palm dawns on me like a crashing wave.

“Mystra?”

He nods an affirmative while gazing wistfully up at the goddess that spurned him.

I don’t know what to say.

“Her idols don’t do her justice.” The words leave my lips before I really think about them. It’s true though, they don’t. The ones I’ve seen depict a sensual woman, clothing and hair animated by the very Weave she commands. Sharp features and languid poses that reek of the male gaze and look nothing like how Gale presents her now. It’s almost shocking how simply he paints her. She could be just another beauty walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate. “They truly don’t,” Gale whispers back.

“I’m ashamed to admit, the way you speak of the Weave makes me almost jealous. It seems so infinite.” Poetry and music and beauty. He truly has a way with words if he can make me crave something when my magic feels like the kiss of sunlight after a dark winter.

The light comes back in his eyes as I shift the conversation. “Divine power must feel almost… limiting in comparison. Being only allowed as much as your deity sees fit.” Mystra’s visage is gone again, momentarily forgotten for the time being. The “More than you know,” dies swiftly on my tongue. He does know and that is the problem.

He gets an idea. I can tell by the look in his eye and the mischievous smile on his face as he pushes up to rest on his elbow. “Would you like to learn?”

What?

“You could teach me?”

He’s actually grinning now which makes me feel better. He’s not hung up on all this bullshit that’s going on. “Oh yes. Here-” He shifts into a seated position and takes my hands. Together we stand and move to the open space in front of his tent. I can't help but laugh softly at how serious he looks as he positions me and motions for me to stay put.

He turns away and makes for the table he has set up for his alchemical pursuits to retrieve his spellbook, snapping away the beaker I heard fall earlier. Prestidigitation. Perhaps that’s what he’ll teach me. I’ve heard it's a very useful spell with many applications, quick clean up being one of them.

He thumbs through the tome until he finds what he’s looking for based on the way his face settles in a self-satisfied expression. “This is a simple spell for channeling the Weave. See here-” He says as he positions himself just behind me and runs his finger over the sigil drawn on the page.

It’s brain-bendingly complex for a “simple spell.” Even the most complex healing sigils or anointments I had to learn were markedly less intricate. But it’s beautiful the way the lines curl and intersect.

“It is, isn't it?”

I must have said it out loud. Gale’s eyes are shining, they're so bright. He truly loves this. “Could you explain this to me, what all of this means?” I say, running my finger across the same path he did. There seems to be a start and end to the figure that the movement traces.

He launches into an explanation I only half understand but follow with rapt attention. What I do glean is I was right about the beginning and end and the segments of the glyph refer to different parts of the spell. Somatic, Verbal, and Material. This one only has Somatic and Verbal.

“I hope that wasn’t too hard to follow. I’ll admit, some of this stuff requires prior knowledge of spell composition.”

He looks sheepish as he pulls the book away and goes to set it down gently off to the side so he can continue to consult it from afar. It’s endearing, his concern.

“Some of it certainly went over my head but I’ve read political treatise and legalese so dense they make your head spin. I’m no stranger to asking questions and learning more.”

That seems to assuage him. He shakes out his arms and gives a winning smile. “Are you ready?”

“After you master wizard,” I say with a playful bow.

He makes a gesture that is almost like theatrically flipping something over in his hands. I watch astutely as something seems to glow from between them. Then he gestures for me to mimic him. I try my best. It’s a lot less confident than his, but from the wideness of his grin I’ve done it satisfactorily enough. Then a shiver goes up my spine as a feeling begins to overtake me. Warmth and… something I cannot place. It’s different from the sunlight of Lathander, or Shadowheart’s healing, or the electric crackle when Gale casts something. I must rock back at the sensation because Gale’s hand is there to meet me at the small of my back. “That’s the Weave. Don’t be afraid. You get used to it.”

It does feel like poetry. It feels like looking up from prose that touches your soul and letting the words sink into your skin and bury themselves in the very marrow of your being. I close my eyes at the feeling and let it wash over me. “More things on Heaven and Earth…” I say as I open my eyes.

“Indeed,” Gale matches my conspiratorial whisper. “That was the Somatic component. Are you ready for the Verbal?” I nod. “Repeat after me. Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”

The words are strange on my tongue but then the feeling somehow compounds, doubling, tripling in intensity. Gale’s voice is hushed in my ear as he leans in and whispers, “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of Harmony. As true as you can.”

My mind wheels through various options. Things I’ve been taught are harmony. People living in peace together. Unwavering Devotion to the Morninglord. People singing different words and notes but bringing together something transcendent and beautiful.

None of it seems to fit.

Harmony is this. It’s sitting in a Druid’s Grove full of people who just want to survive, surrounded by nature and beauty and finding a moment of peace despite the hell of our reality. It’s taking precious minutes of our lives for an impromptu magic lesson in a discipline I am wholly unfamiliar with. It's Gale's patience and my eagerness and this feeling rolling over me in waves.

My hand finds Gale’s as a pulse of energy issues forth.

An energy field envelops us. It plays with our clothes like a breeze in the absence of any detectable current. Weave. Purple and blue and as fine as spun sugar. It tastes sweet and floral and electric in a good way.

Poetry and music and beauty all rolled into one. Gale has never been more right.

“It’s beautiful Gale.”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He muses, his eyes reflecting the beautiful light surrounding us.

“No. No it doesn’t, I choke out around an incredulous laugh. I feel the urge to weep and laugh and dance all at once. This is incredible.

Instead, we stand like this- Gale’s hand pressed against my back and his other clasped in mine- breathing in what feels to me like the cosmos for some time.

“Do you feel her? Watching over us?” A reverent tone has taken over his voice as Gale breaks our reverie. Calling attention to it suddenly helps me put the feeling into words. We are being perceived by Mystra of all things. It’s a strange feeling, different than it was being perceived by Lathander. This is less direct, more idle than anything. It’s the comfort of knowing she is there. She is watching over us and keeping us safe. Tangible reassurance that your faith is not misplaced. This is a prayer answered.

“Thank you,” I say with a squeeze of my hand. We are making the most direct eye contact we have this entire encounter. No more passing glances that happen to meet or gazing at the other as they experience the majesty unfolding around us. Connection, true connection this time.

“For what?” Gale breaths, like he truly doesn’t know what a gift this is.

“For teaching me. For giving me a taste of what you experience everyday. For opening my eyes to this.” My free hand gestures around us and I mean to follow with my eyes but find I cannot tear them away. Gale looks so alive when surrounded by magic, in a way he isn’t when he is pursuing other things. It suits him handsomely.

It sinks in exactly how intimate this moment is, the two of us connected not only by touch but by the very Weave itself. I could take a thousand nights just like this one and never tire. And what I would do for a lifetime of conversations about subjects like this one! Strolling arm in arm learning from each other. I am half-convinced even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.

As if in the same breath, I am filled by an almost innate sense of how beautiful I look lit by the Weave. The way my green eyes compliment the hues of purple and blue and the copper of my hair stands out against the ethereal backdrop. It’s a strange and discordant thought. Not mine.

I think we both realize at the same time that they aren’t our thoughts, that perhaps the tadpoles have pulled a fast one on us or even the Weave has something to do with it. We both blush in unison and impressively.

And then we laugh.

Gale’s laugh is always loud and rapturous. Barking would be a good way to describe it. But it’s pleasant and jovial. It feels right every time I hear it. I get the sense mine is musical in the way horn instruments are. Not like peeling bells, but brassy and boisterous and unladylike. That makes sense, my grandmother hated my laugh. It was too masculine and unbecoming of a daughter of a noble house, my culturally masculine social position be damned. Which is a damn shame, it is a nice laugh.

“I- Um- Well.” Gale clears his throat, still blushing. “Unexpected consequences. Not unwelcome ones! But unexpected all the same.” I’m still laughing, gently now. “There is no harm. I’m glad someone likes my laugh.” Gale blushes impossibly harder.

In a swift movement, like a breeze blowing smoke away, the spell dissipates. It’s almost frigid in it’s absence, or maybe it’s the act of Gale stepping away that brings the chill. I refuse to let him release my hand though.

“There it goes. As fleeting as the dawn, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles at me, pleased at his metaphor.

------------------------------

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 tav #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #Jericho Writes #Wynleth Reiden

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dino--draws · 4 months ago

Text

HIGHLIGHTS FROM THE NEARLY TWO HOUR ADMONITION + EXTRAS POWER POINT

I recorded it and me and my friends do wanna edit it and be silly w/ it so you may actually get to hear the presentation [and if you want the presentation itself just shoot me a dm on discord or smth] at some point but!

"Enter this freak! [image of McDoctorate]" "he looks like weird al.............."

"whats this guys name?" "FUNNY YOU ASK THAT [goes to slide that says 'whats this guys name?']"

"Damn! Sucks for Abbie, man I was invested." "I KNOW I WAS SO SAD SHE DIED." "This is a loss for women." "This was NOT a win for feminism."

"This is the REISNO Cannon!" "...thats a guy." "IGNORE THE GUY IGNORE THE GUY!"

"Failing to fulfil the causal loop causes a paradox. So let's cause a paradox! This is Dougall Deering, a bitchass motherfucker that nobody likes!"

"This is the significance of September 8th!" "...the queen......" "Queen Elizabeth died!! This isn't relevant!"

[Someone I do not know came in and sat down to listen for a bit]

"So you guys know Weirdmaggedon right?"

"And then the therapist dies and it all gets worse."

"So it'll come back, right? Right??? [long pause] There is no cannon." "Ha."

"So you may be wondering 'where the fuck did he go?' and now we finally get into Admonition."

"Because we can't use Narrative travel to jump genres we're writing the Fix-it Fic in the Hurt No Comfort AU. I don't know why I worded it like that in the slide." "That's my fault." "Nonono you're right there."

"They use it to terminate anomalies!!" "Not the ANTIKILL facility.........."

"It was all going dandy and functional until they did something stupid and hubris."

[Me calling the PH-GOS "the silly device"]

"Oh no! Who could've seen this coming!" cries the dumb fucks who should've realized this was an exercise in facility forty years ago."

[A second, new person appears to listen in]

"Say it with me now: YOU CAN'T KILL A LIZARD [several people do say it with me now]"

"Anti-idea???" "Yes, anti-idea."

"We're gonna PEMDAS the starfish!"

"Nice try guys, it didn't work but it wrote them a poem." "Awhhh,,"

"AND THEN THE UNIVERSE FUCKING ENDED!" "Oh it's over already?" "WOAAHHH"

"You may be wondering how the FUCK this is the first article in this series. Well you haven't seen NOTHIN' yet."

"I understand why this is making you insane." "Yeah no I get it."

"Is he [PHMD] a creative

"Director Johnathan King is fucking dead!" "Who??" "Don't worry about it he's not important." "He sounds like he is!" "The only thing you need to know is that he's dead."

"IS THAT JERMA?" "where?" "WHY IS JERMA THERE!" "THATS JERMA???" [me having to explain Jerma]

"Our budget took a hit! So we're gonna devote all resources to build this thing! For the budget!"

"Why are we doing this?" "Because we need to make a man un-die but no other necromancy is working."

"WHY IS HE A CAT??" "Don't worry about it." "These two don't have faceclaims to my knowledge so have Dir. Vehmoff looking at manga and catboy Dir. Asheworth (catboyism not relevant here, 120 directorism relevant here)." "He seems sad." "He is sad."

"SO ASHEWORTH ✨ EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATES ✨ HIM INTO VOTING IN X/MACHINA’S FAVOR USING HIS DEAD FRIEND AS LEVERAGE!" "whys theres a 50% opacity dog...." "don't worry about it!"

"If this man says it's safe, I don't know what else to tell you. DRAMATIC IRONY IS A LITERARY DEVICE IN WHICH--"

[Me going off script to briefly and VERY excitedly ramble about pataphysics]

[My one friend comparing generic vs protagonist vs archetypical to a/b/o and me threatening to end her life several times before moving on in the excited ramble and we all think its cool as fuck btw]

"I'm gonna read this [the 6747 imagion particles stuff] because I think it's cool and its my presentation."

"So? When's the other shoe gonna drop?" "Probably right now." "Yes!"

"So sometimes we taze it! Personnel are to be reminded that its totally dead and we totally aren’t lying to your face. The therapist we hired to taze the brain wants to be amnestizied of tazing the brain. We told her no. sorry Ngo." "Hah." "Ngo,,,,,,,,,"

"also his name is sparky...." "well thank god for that."

"It's becoming bad fanfiction." "They're all having sex." "No they're not, there's no sex in this." "We are reading very different bad fanfiction." "Yes we are!"

[My roommate googling 2747 bazongas]

"I wanna punt him [PHMD] like a football." "Good he deserves it."

"GET IN LOSER! We're killing gods!"

"What Dr. Blake is about to do has not been approved by the Vatican." [My friends loose their shit]

"That's right babey! It's the motherfucking starfish again!" "WHAT??" "Oh shit!!"

"PHMD’s plan is to create an Unbound Prometheus to help them find the God within the human mind. And not in the Frankenstein sense i mean he wants to unbind Prometheus and promote him as the God of Humanity. And everyone is just ok with this!?!?!?! [I am gesturing frantically and my voice is cracking like hell] Like they restructure the education system and everything to incorporate this and the Foundation starts to pray to Prometheus and all that???? its wild and so casually mentioned too, but here we go we’re doin this!!"

"oh my god he's the modern Prometheus." "HE'S THE MODERN PROMETHEUS!!!!"

"ignore the fact they've given people early onset dementia."

"the exhilaration of severing a finger from a squirming human hand (ie. transcendence). [Pause] WELL AIN'T THAT JUST PEACHY :D"

''that was the SHORT ONE?" "Short and sweet! Not simple and short." "Heeheheh, yeah."

"It's killing all AI!" "yaaaaaaaaaaaaayy!"

"SO NOW DISREGARD THAT LAST SLIDE! BECAUSE I LIED TO YOU!!" "why would you do that,,,?" "what????" "THERE'S NO VIRUS. IT'S ANOTHER GOD DAMN FOUNDATION MADE EIGENMACHINE. THE VIRUS IS A COVER UP." "why are you talking like a republican conspiracy theorist."

"That's really fucked up, thank you!" "ISN'T IT???"

"Please take note to behold the comedic amount of power that LOTUS needs."

"I love 28 nuclear reactors."

"So things go to shit pretty fast! Cause guess what? PHMD touched the damn machine."

"So yeah these guys have no right to be surprised when it starts interring all AI, even the most simplest of spellcheckers." "Not Grammarly!!!" "yup, LOTUS got it."

"isn't LOTUS itself an AI..?" [I turn my head slowly and grin at them in dead silence] "oh great thanks." "we'll get to that :) we'll get to that :)))"

"Have you tried turning it on and off again?"

"Problem solved, right? [next slide] SO EVERYTHING GETS IMMEDIATELY WORSE!!!!"

"Lunar Area-23 is gone." "THEY TOOK THE MOON??" "you know who else takes the moon? Gru." "GOD FUCKING DAMMIT."

[my friends horrified look as I describe Hishakaku's hostile takeover]

"He demoted him and erased his mind, because the Foundation can just do that, by the way." "Oh! :D Ok! :D"

"WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAID IT GETS EVEN WORSE? Because I lied to you again!!! OCI does not stand for Obtuse Computation Interface. It stands for Organic Consciousness Interface. THAT'S RIGHT! HISHKAKAU WAS PUTTING BRAINS IN JARS!"

"Not Head of Disinformation that's craaazy," "Yeah they just have that." "I wanna be CEO of lying."

"Wow fuck this guy."

[My one friend making a rainbow dash jar joke like right before the slide that has the rainbow dash jar joke]

"LOTUS is flipping its shit."

"THINGS ARE FINALLY DONE GETTING WORSE! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!" "Woah!" "No :D!"

[group cackling at Hishakaku's takedown]

"Why'd they do that???" "because they're fucking fascists!!"

"Oh and by the way the remains of LOTUS have been salvaged for Project ADMONITION." "Ggrrrreeat!!"

"Admonition Episode 5, SCP-7243, Existential Abatement." "I like that its gay :}" "It IS gay!"

"What if the timeloop happened in June."

"He also shows Ngo -- the therapist who was tazing the brain earlier you remember her? -- the item he wanted to give Phillip. A magic box, that makes it seem like the object you’ve put in it vanishes. But there’s no magic at all, just a drawer, just a trick." "Oh boy" "Nnnnnno way." "Wow isn’t that a specific detail I sure hope that isn’t a framing device."

"Dougall asks Amelia what the hell he should do. She tells him three words--" "kill yourself." "No more wast-- no."

"Esoteric waste???" "sent it into space." "we can't do that :("

"You killed my husband." "Yeah that's an actual line in the article." "SDKFJSHDKHFD"

"Oh right yeah there's an SCP object in this article."

[my friends thinking DePLExA is really cool]

[Me pausing for two seconds each time 'waste' pops up]

"They are dumping empty containers into an empty pit. Because if they don’t it’ll cause a paradox. [Pause] You ready to cause another parado-- hold your conceptual horses actually because there's more to explain."

"Esoteric gift horses and their non-existent mouths."

"AND THEN IT ALL GOES TO SHIT! [to the tune of 'and then along came zeus']

"Wait September 8th again??" "It's fucking happening again."

"A magnitude 8.5 earthquake hits." "Ttttttthats not good."

[My friends mounting horror as I just read through the EE-7243 event entirely]

"So it was like putting a lid on a burning pan. But the burning pan is an acromatic abatement facility about to esoterically explode and the lid is a bomb that creates a forcefield"

"Oh hey! We found Amelia!" "Oh!!!" "She's not ok, but she's alive!" "That's a lot!!!" "yeah!!!"

[periodic sounds of me excitedly stimming while talking]

"We're living out of spite!" "that's soooooooooo real," "she's so me!" "I love how she hates her brother-in-law more than she loves her husband." "YEAH KDFJGHDFJKG"

"But they don't have one [O5-9]..." "oops." "Whoops!!"

"GUESS WHAT DOUGALL TURNS AROUND AND DOES? AFTER BEING TOLD NOT TO TAKE SHORTCUTS NOR MIRACLE CURES??? GUESS WHAT HE DOES?" "takes a shortcu--" "HE TAKES A MOTHERFUCKING SHORTCUT!"

[group confusion over Amelia and Dougall marrying eachother]

[Group freakout over Dougall being the entity that killed Phillip]

"What is waste? I guess you finally figured it out, Dougall." "OH MY GOD KDJFGHDKFJGD" "THAT'S HILARIOUS." "THIS IS AN ACTUAL LINE IN THE ARTICLE."

"wwwwait a second, a timeline being cut off from the coalition and the RCT? This is familiar..." "that fucking rubik's cube." "the cube!!"

"He fucked around just to get this timeline kicked out?" "He's throwing for content!!" "He should get twitter cancelled."

"Operation LAST STRAW success--" "Hehehehe"

"Because one of the people who writes this taunts me on tumblr and I go insane on the regular."

"She's from the paradox timeline as well," "how'd she get outtie :(((" "We don't know yet!"

this was 101 slides

"why did y'all let this guy cook??" "this freak cannot handle his trauma in a healthy way."

"He might be trying to become the LOGICIAN and kill his author. But also the LOGICIAN is the author so he may be trying to kill the LOGICIAN." "This is just like Betty from adventure time."

"This powerpoint has DLC content!"

and now my friends wanna read the actual Admo articles I am kicking my feet and giggling fr fr fr fr fr fr fr ehehehehehehehe. my brainworms.................... god im so happy rn you have no idea this is all so cool to me and im so happy my friends thought it was neat,,,,,

#scp #admonition #funny. laugh now #dino screams asmr

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enam3l · 1 year ago

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love, lola / chapter nine pt.1 / going solo (5.7k)

Eddie’s arrived in California, leaving you behind, to start his new life as a rockstar.

thank you for 1.2k of you kind angels!!!??? and thank you guys for your patience, life has been hectic with work and school and after the anniversary of eddie’s death (but not in this fic baby) i thought fuck it imma post what we got for chapter 9 - I hope it’ll all be worth the wait

a/n: sex drugs and rock and roll - no fr there is graphic sex here

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

California is too fucking hot. That is what Eddie Munson has learnt since moving. Far too hot for hair like his and definitely far too hot to stay hidden behind the safety of his leather jacket. After years of the mind numbing mundanity of Hawkins, Eddie was propelled into the fast pace L.A. mindset. Each morning for a moment his heart hammered, wondering where he was until the palm trees outside the window reminded him it definitely wasn't Indiana. The apartment the record label had set him and rest of Kraven up in was definitely not the trailer - maybe the size of every single one in the park combined.

So far, everyone had been nice; a niceness you're not usually privy to when you're known as 'The Freak'. Kraven were excited he accepted the offer and their label and manager had heralded him the hero of the hour. But a nagging part of Eddie couldn't ignore the feeling that this wasn't really his band, he was a replacement. There was a brotherhood between the bandmates long before his arrival and it's hard to ever truly assimilate with a bond like that. Regardless, he was there, escaped the confines of his small town and now living the dream of becoming a rockstar. This was always the fantasy, wasn't it?

September 2nd 1986

For the first time in his life, Eddie is sat in a real life, high tech, actual recording studio. A far cry from Gareth’s egg box insulated garage. An egg shaped chair swallows him whole which feels tediously symbolic of his time so far in California. Everything is much bigger than him. As the band and producers play him the demos they have already, with hopeful looks on their faces, he resorts to anxiously twisting the rings on his fingers. They're a tangible reminder of home. He thumbs them in order. Skull. Pig. Cross and bones. Mom's. But now there's a new edition - yours.

It made its way onto his finger as you said your final goodbyes in the airport terminal and it hasn't left since. Between runny noses and weepy eyes, Eddie frowned as you withdrew from a hug that had already lasted several minutes (which was still not long enough).

'I have something for you, Teddy,' you confess as you sift through your bag.

'You already threw the party, sweetheart. Whatcha wasting money on me for?' He sighs.

The protests were not what you wanted clearly as he's met with a silencing finger until you finally found what you were looking for. Now you chew your lip anxiously, fumbling with a little velvet pouch.

'It's not for going away... it's - well, I gathered, this will be the first time since we met that we've not spent our birthdays together...'

Eddie's stomach drops, he had not gathered that. 'Oh...' he murmurs.

'So, I thought I'd give you your present now. I guess. If that's okay?'

Totally thrown, he only blinked and nodded. Taking his hand, you lay his palm out flat and shake the pouch until Eddie hears a little clinking, then feels cool metal on the skin.

'It's the big 2-1, y'know. I wanted us to have something special. I couldn't think of anything to buy. But, I - uhhh - I could think of something to make.'

Finally, he moves and inspects your gift closer. Two silver rings, perfectly imperfect. Carefully, he spins them round until he can finally see what the feature of them is. It causes him to gasp and you to resort to nervously stumbling over your words.

'I was taking a silversmithing class at college and I was thinking about your rings and then I thought I could make you one. Then I thought I could make us some. Matching ones. For our birthdays. It's silly. They're not professional or anything. Y'know a little wonky. Just thought it'd be nice...'

Eddie balls his fist up, clutching the precious contents and closes his eyes to swallow up a sniffle. One ring has E for Eddie on, the other identical except for your initial.

'Wonky? Y/N... they're perfect. This is, holy shit, this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me...'

The compliment makes your insides fizz.

'Are you sure? I mean, I was gonna tidy them up more but when you were in hospital. When I went back to New York... I brought them back with me. Just incase... y'know...'

Just incase Eddie never made it to his 21st is the unspoken ending to that sentence that you both understand. Eddie takes your hands in his and squeezes. The rings shielded by your conjoined palms.

'Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you... put it on me! Go on! Make me your little hand model m!'

As usual, Eddie's theatrics ease the tension and force you into giggles.

Carefully, you slide the E ring over Eddie's finger. He prompts you to place it on the bare one next to where his Mom's old ring resides. Then, he takes your hand and delicately places your own ring onto the matching finger. To the rest of the people in the airport, it must've looked like the exchanging of vows between two lovers being forced apart. Really, they wouldn't have been entirely incorrect.

‘So what do you think man?’

Eddie breaks his daze to be met with a room of hopeful eyes.

‘Huh?’ He murmurs.

‘The demos!’ The manager Chris encourages, ‘for the album! These are what the guys have put down so far. Love em?’

Eddie’s brain stumbles over what will be the correct thing to say. The songs bad? God no, there was a reason the bad were signed. But were they what he would do? Not really. It was clear they were angling as more commercially marketable, less niche like metal, a more digestible rock. Taylor was more Iggy than Ozzy.

‘Yeah, yeah they’re tight,’ Eddie scrambles, praying he didn’t appear rude.

Already though, his brain has calculated how he would rearrange each element of the songs, what lyrics he’d tweak, how he’d make it his own - but he has to remind himself that’s not why he’s here.

‘We want a single out for Christmas. Make a big splash over the festive season. Hit the talk shows, the radios. Get you boys out there. Build up the hype for a Valentine’s album release,’ Chris cheerfully continues.

‘But don’t forget, none of these songs are finalised,’ a rough voice from the corner of the room interrupts Chris’ ambitions.

Riz, the producer, sits like the mastermind behind the console in his swivel chair. His skin weathered and tanned, littered with scribbled tattoos not unlike Eddie’s own. Tired eyes that have seen too many young ambitious bands and their teams come in and out of his studio, are concealed by thin tinted glasses. A mane of salt and pepper curls, some formed into dreads cascade past his broad shoulders. A real old school rocker.

‘Oh well, yes, yes of course,’ Chris fumbles, ‘plenty of room for your inputs Eddie.’

It’s clear Chris is entirely intimidated by Riz’s presence. His clean cut Armani suited self a direct contrast to the producer’s rough look. One is the face, the other is the real brains.

‘Speaking of, Chris, why don’t you take Taylor, Spike and Keith to lunch. Use that gold card the label bestowed upon you whilst me and Eddie get accompanied?’

Eddie shoots round to look at Riz, used to his name being called out as the signal he’s in trouble. But when he meets his eyes, they only offer warmth and a small smirk; something Eddie had yet to see him crack so far.

‘Oh are you sure?’

‘Yeah, yeah, lots of technical things I need to adjust now Eddie is with his. Go on,’ Riz practically shoos Chris out the door. The rest of Kraven following suit, amused by their manager’s nervous babbling.

Finally, once the door is shut and locked, Riz returns to his throne, spinning round and looking at Eddie expectantly.

‘Well, come on then,’ he chuckles, smacking his tattooed hand against a leather chair beside him. Eddie immediately scrambles over, Sweetheart safely in her case towing behind him. There’s an awkward silence as Eddie toys with his guitar case, desperate to avoid Riz’s piercing gaze.

Nonchalantly, Riz swings his feet up onto a nearby stool and reclines in his chair.

‘So… you hate the songs,’ he chuckles.

Eddie finally looks up to gawp, scrambling for a response.

‘No, I don’t, it’s not, I never said I-‘

‘It’s cool brother. You’re a metalhead. They aren’t a metal band. They’re not your first choice, no sweat.’

Riz, in just a few minutes of knowing each other, has called Eddie’s bluff. The tone in his voice is not anger or judgment, it’s just matter of fact with a hint of amusement.

‘They’re not my first choice either, sound wise. I’m a lot more old school myself, personally. But, fuck, you know what, those boys got more star power than anyone else who’s been brought to me in the last two decades.’

Eddie nods eagerly. There’s a reason he was honoured Kraven had asked him, they were really fucking good and most surprisingly - nice. Riz eyes the boy before him, big brown soulful eyes that scream there’s a story behind them.

‘I think you’re an old soul like me though, Munson. Let me guess… you’ve got notebooks full of lyrics in that case of yours?’

A beetroot blush flushes Eddie’s cheeks, he’s been rumbled and stutters an agreement.

‘And I bet you’ve never shown anyone either, huh?’

Two for two.

‘No, never. They’re all a little… personal,’ Eddie murmurs.

‘All the best stuff is. So what you’re gonna do is get them out and show me who the musician Eddie Munson really is.’

With an eagle eye, Riz combs through the tattered pages of scrawling lyrics. Words dating back years. The afternoon flies by as Eddie demonstrates the melodies he wrote for each with Riz adding his own input.

‘Well, Munson. I don’t think Kraven or the label know what they’ve accidentally come across with you,’ Riz scoffs. His fingers gloss over the stacks of song lyrics Eddie’s unveiled.

‘And you better be marrying this girl you’re writing about. Ain’t heard love songs like this in a lifetime.’

The way Eddie nervously shrinks in on himself over his words isn’t lost on Riz, things rarely ever are.

September 21st 1986

‘TWENTY ONE MOTHERFUCKER’

Raucous laughter and cheers manage to erupt over the booming club music. The fine spray of champagne, more expensive than his trailer, soaking Eddie’s curls. The women that had crowded the booth, struggle to get in the stream of booze. Liquid gold dripping from their open mouths and exposed cleavage. No, this was not the usual Munson birthday set up.

Despite attempting to keep his twenty-first birthday a secret, Eddie had been rumbled. Chris’ assistant Sammy had discovered his impending celebration after going through files. That was spilt during bedroom talk with Spike the bass player who she’d been hooking up with. Spike then mentioned a small night with the boys to Taylor and Keith to celebrate, which was overheard by manager Chris. So now due to Chris’ inability for subtlety, the boys found themselves in an exclusive WeHo club, surrounded by bottomless bottles, scantily clad girls and yes men - all courtesy of the label. Eddie was light years away from where he’d usually spend his evenings round humble drama room DnD table or with lukewarm beers in Gareth’s garage.

After three weeks of locking themselves in the studio when the sun had begun to rise, only leaving well after, the band were finally letting loose. The guys had all told Eddie their tales of L.A’s debaucherous rock’n’roll night life; the secret places where other musicians mingled, where dealers made their money and girls got the memorable nights they went looking for. But so far, he’d yet to experience it and now he was, Eddie wasn’t sure it was for him. A rainbow of pills scattered the table without discretion, he could tell they were far better quality than the shit he used to sell. Servers came with an endless supply of bottles, money no question. A far cry from the gruff, stingy bartenders at The Hideout. The clientele is a far cry as well. The girls that had flocked to their booth looked straight off a Hollywood set. One busty blonde sat on a bewildered Chris’ knee, his eyes desperately trying not to focus on the cleavage that bobbed below his chin. Spike was making it clear he and Sammy weren’t exclusive as a brunette and a redhead sat either side of him as they purred in his ear. Taylor had disappeared into the crowd, ever the life of the party, surely feeling the effects of the pills he’d let fizzle on his tongue. Out of everyone, the only person Eddie felt envious of was Keith.

Nestled happily in the corner of the booth sat Keith and his fiancee Grace, lost in their own little world. The pair had scoffed when a girl had tried to luck with Keith, knowing hell would freeze over before he left Grace. High school sweethearts who had made it work as he’d followed the path of wannabe rockstar. She was no eager groupie or ditzy model, Grace was a lawyer; officially Kraven’s lawyer. Put together, fierce and completely soft on Keith - reminding Eddie of you. Although, they were a real couple, best friends and lovers, exactly what Eddie had failed in making the two of you. When they whispered private jokes or sleepy appeared from their bedroom, his heart panged with envy. Mind racing with questions of how they managed to make it work. Who made the first move? How did they know it was mutual? How did they know it wasn’t a mistake? All the questions he fretted over when his lips burnt with desperation to meet yours.

Eddie’s wishful gaze is interrupted by a sudden touch to his thigh. Eyes wide with confusion, his head spins round and are met with a fluttering pair staring right back at him. The stranger’s fingers tucking rogue curls behind his ear causes Eddie to freeze. A touch too intimate to receive from anyone but you or his family.

‘Your hair is nearly as long as mine,’ the girl drawls. Long nails still trailing up his shredded jeans and now up his exposed bicep. Whether she hadn’t noticed Eddie’s bewildered look or had just chosen to ignore it, the girl pressed on.

‘The boys told me you're the new lead guitar… I think you’re definitely an upgrade, honey.’

Eddie gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. So far he had been able to avoid interacting with these legendary California girls. Throwing himself into rehearsals with the band and his own late sessions with Riz long after the rest of the guys go home. Women weren’t on his radar. Everyone dull in comparison to the shine he knows radiates off you.

‘Urm, thanks,’ he mumbles, trying to squirm out of her grasp.

‘And he’s a little shy?’ She giggles, ‘sooo cute.’

Eddie’s eyes, wide like saucers, scan the surroundings rapidly, desperate to escape this uncomfortable encounter. He wasn’t interest in a hook up, the thought unimaginable and he definitely didn’t want this. He’s desperate for you more than ever now, wishing for your soft touch, wishing it was your tipsy words being whispered in his ear. His birthdays weren’t for sharing with random hookups, they were always reserved for you. After being separated by your college, Eddie was giddy at the thought of getting to spend your birthdays together again. But now you were torn apart again, now even further apart.

Finally, Eddie spots his opening. The girl leans over to the table to pour another drink, her grip on him loosening. Quickly, he darts up, hopping over everyone’s legs and abandoning the booth as the girl calls after him. Eddie’s feet seem to take him away before his mind is even sure where he wants to go. Hand’s planting on the bar top, causing an unexpecting bartender to jump, Eddie pleas,

‘Is there a phone anywhere I can use?’

The bartender nods, finger jabbing to a corridor beside the toilets. Shouting a thanks behind him, Eddie shoots off in the direction of the promised phones.

Frantically, he punches in a number he’s known by heart for most of his life. Ringed fingers twist round the cord anxiously and the dial tone hums over the vibrations of the club’s speakers.

Eddie’s breath hitches as the other end picks up and fumbling can be heard.

‘H-hello?’ Your sleepy voice croaks.

It’s the best noise he’s heard since he arrived, better than anything he’s heard in the studio.

‘Hi,’ he whispers shyly, ‘it’s me, it’s Eddie. I’m sorry, did I wake you?’

Your giggle makes his stomach churn.

‘I know it’s you, Eds or should I say birthday boy? No, no, it’s okay. I was already awake.’

‘Are you okay? Are you sick?’ He enquires desperately. For a moment, Eddie is sure he hears a hesitation in your voice.

‘No, no, I - urm, you know, just one of those nights. I’m fine! It’s nice to hear your voice.’

Eddie for once is grateful for the distance that separates you for seeing the blush that spreads across his cheeks.

‘It’s really nice to hear yours too. I’m sorry I’ve not been keeping up with the calls, it’s all just -‘

You interrupt before he falls into a spiral of apologies.

‘Eds, it’s fine! You’re a rockstar in training, I don’t expect you to be missing all the fun to be calling me every second.’

‘But, I want to, sweetheart… I wish you were here,’ he sighs.

‘I wish I was too… but this your adventure. This is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.’

Eddie desperately wants to let the alcohol coursing through his system to take ahold of his tongue and confess no, you’re everything I’ve dreamed of. But he doesn’t. Your voice chirps up again, trying to dispel the sad silence that took over the line.

‘So, how’s your birthday? How is being 21? Are you not out and drowning in booze and those Cali girls?’ You’re chuckling but he doesn’t laugh.

‘No, no I’m out with the guys. But, urm, no Cali girls. Definitely not.’

Eddie’s not sure if you let out a relieved sigh or it’s just wishful thinking.

‘You’re out?! Eddie, what on earth are you calling me for!’

Your scolding tone makes him grin. He can picture perfectly how your brows are furrowed and how if you were in front of him your hands would be flailing animatedly.

‘Cos birthdays are our thing. You’re much better than this club full of fuckin’ posers.’

‘Yeah, they are. Am I now? Are you trying to flatter me, mister?’

‘Always, sweetheart.’

The pair of you giggle down the phone. His dimpled cheeks aching from the grin you inspire. As the giggles finally subside, Eddie hears you attempt to disguise a yawn and remembers how once again distance keeps you apart.

‘Guess I should let you get to sleep then, huh sweet?’

‘You should go and enjoy your birthday more importantly!’

Eddie huffs, knowing such a thing is impossible without your presence.

‘I’ll try… I’ll speak to you soon, promise.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Eds. Whenever you have time!’

‘I’ll always have time for you. I’ll make sure I at least call you on your birthday.’

‘You better,’ you sleepily smirk, ‘it’s two days after yours, you’ve got no excuse to forget.’

‘How could I?’

Eddie rakes a hand through his curls, knowing he needs to hang up but it’s too hard to let you go.

‘Get some sleep, sweetheart. I miss you.’

‘Goodnight Eddie, I miss you too.’

The line goes dead and once again the only sound filling his ears is the throbbing base. Trying to replay your words in his head, Eddie flops against the wall. Eyes closed tight as he wishes it was you he was breathing in rather than the cloud of perfume wafting from the women’s bathroom nearby.

It’s only when he can feel a presence beside him does Eddie open his eyes. A woman mirrors his position against the wall but faces him, a wicked glint in her cat-like eyes. Taken aback by her close proximity, Eddie jumps causing her to giggle at his squirming.

‘Whatcha waiting for cutie?’

Eddie continues to shuffle away, the phone your warm voice once echoed out of, now uncomfortably sticking into his back.

‘Was just… just using the phone…’ he murmurs nervously.

‘Oh?’ she cocks her head, auburn waves tumbling, ‘and here I thought you were waiting out here for some fun.’

A slender manicured finger reaches out, tugging at a bewildered Eddie’s bottom lip. He stutters as his brain scrambles for a response. Another awkward round of full frontal flirting from random girls. The thought of supermodel groupies throwing themselves at him was somewhat appealing when he was a raging hormone of a teenager. But even then, you were still in the back of his mind on a pedestal, now you live there front and centre. Eddie recoils from her touch, swatting her hand away.

‘No!’ he surprises himself with the firmness in his voice, ‘M’sorry, not looking for anything.’

The girl scoffs a ‘whatever’, rolling her eyes and flouncing off. Just as Eddie finally feels his body relax, a snigger from the corner catches his attention. A frame steps forward from the shadows.

A man, also in his twenties, grins an infectious smile that makes Eddie feel a little giddy. Shorter than himself, but broader, tanned muscles that glistened with sweat from dancing.

‘I think she’s a little disappointed,’ the guy chuckles.

‘I really was just using the phone!’ Eddie insists.

Gradually the two move closer towards each other, Eddie drawn in by the piercing pale eyes that never leave him. Despite the corridor being much cooler than the dance floor, heat bubbled between their bodies.

‘So… Eddie, are you definitely not looking for any kind of fun?’

October 31st 1986

Now in the depths of autumn, the madness of life had only increased. Kraven had found their sound with the addition of Eddie, days spent mastering their sound in the studio. When out of the studio, the boys sat round meeting tables listening to suits spew corporate jargon about their mastermind ideas for selling the band. That was his least favourite part, hearing his existence and passion whittled down to money making schemes. It’s also where Eddie was forced to tackle the idea of fame. Seeing his name in small print under photographs of the band, plastered in pages of music magazines about the next hot thing. Personally, he found it mortifying but Wayne insisted it was proof of him achieving his dreams, whereas you cackled down the phone at the surrealness of it all.

At the end of the day, Eddie buried himself in sheets of paper, attempting to put into words the feelings that brewed inside. Trying to heal the internal wounds the events of the year had left, whilst being a thousand miles from the people who actually understood. Vocalising the sadness he wished he didn’t feel over achieving his dreams of making it but not with his own band. Then as ever, trying to find an outlet for the love he felt for you that bubbled with fervency in your absence and

with every stolen phone call. Then, a couple of times a week, Eddie would present his lyrics to Riz to make sense of, during after-hours at the studio. A secret project the two of them found themselves falling into outside of Kraven. That was another source of guilt, that his heart and soul weren’t invested in the band in the same way Taylor, Spike and Keith’s were. That he reserved the heartfelt work for himself, letting his real passion erupt during the late night sessions with Riz.

Then there was another output Eddie found for his pent up frustrations about his overwhelming emotions and suffocating new lifestyle. A way to let go in a way that didn't leave him ashamed as if he had betrayed you. The guy at the club on his 21st birthday had opened up possibilities that Hawkins had limited. Small town life was oppressive, he didn’t need the rumour mill buzzing with fresh stories that the satanist Munson was also a sodomist. Whilst Taylor and Spike drowned in girls, Eddie became comfortable seeking out something else in the bars and clubs they’d frequent. It was easier, less intimate. He didn’t need to worry about coy teasing, didn’t need to exchange names and take girls home. Eddie could find release down the back of another guy's throat, quick and hot in dark corners and back allies. He was unsure if his bandmates had realised and was anxious that they’d reject him for it but that was another issue forced to the back of his mind, stored in another box overflowing with anxieties.

Halloween was decided as a good marketing angle for the band. Their name added to the line up of hot new rock bands performing at an infamous West Hollywood Halloween party. Something thrown by a record executive’s tabloid covering daughter that had become notorious enough to be spoken about on MTV. Eddie being no stranger to a costume and outlandishness being second nature to Taylor, the pair had put themselves in charge of putting together the band’s costume.

‘This is pretty hardcore you guys,’ Spike admitted, ‘didn’t think you’d pull it off.’

The four cramped into a backstage room at the venue, getting ready for their performance. Eddie’s tongue stuck out in concentration as he finished painting Spike’s body. All four of them were skeletons. Leather trousers and boots embellished with white paint, creating the illusion when on stage they were void of flesh. Their torsos mostly exposed aside from frankly decorative scraps of leather. Spike in long leather sleeves that covered wrist to arm and left the entirety of his chest exposed. Eddie and Keith both in tight leather waistcoats. Then Taylor, naturally, entirely topless aside from some leather wrist cuffs and mask that made him appear as a devilish gimp. All exposed skin had bones painted on top which was now Eddie’s current job.

‘Of course we did,’ Taylor boasts, ‘you really doubted our little DnD nerd’s ability to put together a costume?’

Eddie splatters paint in the singer's direction. Even if they weren’t his friends from home, his band mates had become real friends. Their bantering is interrupted by the door opening and a fallen angel with a clipboard appearing.

‘You guys gotta be outta here in like a minute, the band on stage are wrapping up and you’re next.’ Her sentence is finished with a pop of her bubble gum and the slam of the door.

After final adjustments to the costumes, the boys file out to the side of the stage. Eddie’s chipped black nails gripping at the neck of his guitar. The usual pre-show jitters causing his stomach to flutter.

‘You good brother?’ Keith whispers, a reassuring firm hand bracing Eddie’s shoulder.

‘Yeah, yeah, all cool, I mean y’know aside from usual pre-show nerves,’ he shrugs. Keith nods with understanding, spinning his sticks - a nervous tick Eddie has come to notice.

‘Damn, you better at this fuckin rockstar shit than me. My heart feels like it’s about to fall out my god damn asshole knowing who’s in that audience!’

Quirking an eyebrow, Eddie warily responds,

‘What do you mean… who’s here?’

Keith’s eyes bulge at his bandmate’s obliviousness.

‘Holy shit, you got no gossip rags in that little town of yours? This party is infamous. It’s some real Motley Crue as shit out there. Full of rockstars fuckin heiresses n shit! Little Miss Clipboard said mother fucking Slash is here!’

Before Eddie can even clear his now dry throat to respond, the sound system booms with the excited announcement of the MC.

‘Next up is rock’s hottest new band… Kraven!’

The cheers are muddled by the ringing in Eddie’s ears, his body seized up until Spike nudges him along. With a gulp, he steps out into the spotlight, trusty axe in one hand whilst the other spins the ring you made him.

Dripping sweat causes the paint to bleed down Eddie’s exposed skin. Unsteady hands grab one of the bottles of whiskey thrusted upon them once the band exited the stage and merged into the party. Eddie’s ear’s still buzzed with the raucous applause and hollering that erupted once Kraven finished their set. Immediately after they were mobbed by names he’d read on the backs of cassettes he couldn’t afford in record stores. Producers, lyricists and fellow musicians, all congratulating and praising him - Eddie the freak Munson, the kid who grew up awkward, poor and unwanted. The change of pace in his life was surreal; after a lifetime of critical fails, he’s been rolling nat20s.

A soft evening breeze provides Eddie with as much needed respite as California weather can. The surrealness of inside was getting to him. Skin sticky from sweat induced by the growing crowd of important people with his name on their tongue. His name. Eddie Munson.

‘Eddie Munson?’

It takes a moment for Eddie to realise that voice wasn’t coming from inside his head. A few feet before him, leaning against the roped barrier a guy peers with his head cock. Soft flopping quaff falling into his curious eyes. A cowboy. Blue wash denim waistcoat with nothing underneath exposing taught tanned muscles. A tanned cowboy hat pushed back so it hangs off the back of his neck.

‘Uh, yeah, yeah… can I help you?’

The guy shrugs, hands sliding into the back pockets of tight jeans and rocking on the balls of his cowboy boots.

‘Nope. Just thought it was you. Saw you perform, you were great. More talented than most of these rockstars,’ he scoffs.

‘Oh, I - I don’t know about that. Thanks, I guess,’ Eddie fumbles over his words, eyes focused downwards at those damn cowboy boots.

With a chuckle the guy responds, now daring to move forward, strong hand adjusting Eddie’s waistcoat.

‘See, you just proved me right. Most of those guys would’ve agreed and definitely wouldn’t thank me…’

His fingers brush over Eddie’s jittering own.

‘Need a light for that?’

He pulls up Eddie’s hand that holds a long forgotten cigarette that remained unlit. Gulping, he nods. The mystery cowboy draws nearer, a zippo and a cigarette for himself materialising from inside the waistcoat.

‘I’m Max by the way,’ he smiles as he takes Eddie’s cigarette and places it into his agape mouth for him.

‘I’m Eddie…’

‘I know, babe,’ Max whispers, his own cigarette in his mouth now.

The tips of both cigarettes almost kiss as the distance closes between the two men. The zippo crackles alight, the flame illuminating a pair of wide chocolate eyes staring at a charming pair of green, both sets of pupils dilated.

‘Holy fuck, I knew you were big. Could see it on stage in that tight ass leather,’ Max groans. Metal scrapes on marble as Eddie Munson’s ringed fingers grip at a bathroom countertop as the man he met moments ago pumps his aching cock. Finally the tension built up inside him from the pressure of the evening was on the brink of dissipating. Huffs of air escape his mouth as Max drops to his knees, long tongue flicking at the drip of precum.

‘Knew you’d taste good as well,’ he smirks.

‘God damn, shit,’ Eddie pants as warm lips caress his tip, he struggles to contain himself. His hand lunges out, grabbing at Max’s soft locks. ‘Shit, my balls, suck my fucking balls.’

Pliant, Max does as he’s told, firm balls popping into his mouth causing wild bush to prickle at his face. After a few luxurious sucks, he’s hauled back to his feet and Eddie’s previously shaking hands are nowhere to be seen as he swiftly unbuttons denim.

‘I can’t be the only one to play show and tell.’

Eddie smirks as he watches green eyes flicker in bliss as his fat cock is released from its denim cage. Tanned to match Max’s toned body with a pretty pink head, fair pubes trimmed neatly. A real pretty boy.

‘No wonder you were so confident,’ Eddie chuckles, ‘knew you had that ready and loaded, huh?’

Max whimpers now he’s the one to receive relief from another’s hand. Eddie tugs his chin to force eye contact. Only a moment can they maintain contact before both men are chest to chest, jerking the other off, a mess of precum leaking between them. Open mouths and tongues flickering at each other, spit swapping. It’s dirty and hot and far too filthy for this fancy carpeted bathroom.

Pushing aside a wail of pleasure, Max uses a free hand to fumble inside his waistcoat until he brandishes a foil square. Eddie arches a brow.

‘Jesus, just, just fuck me before I cum,’ Max pleads.

The desperation makes Eddie snigger but it’s mutual.

Quickly, the man is bent over the counter, ass exposed as Eddie’s warm spit drips down. Groans echo as his thumb circles over Max’s tight hole, slipping in as both men’s dicks twitch in suspense.

‘P-please, fuck me,’ he grunts.

‘Alright, alright. You ready cowboy?’

Moans echo off the tiles as Eddie eases into Max’s asshole. The pair’s eyes meet in the mirror they face until he tops out and his head drops into denim. After a moment, Max begins to wriggle beneath, fucking himself on Eddie’s cock until the message is received. Eddie braces himself, fingers digging into hip bone as he begins to drag his length in and out.

Eventually the air is thick with heat and the sound of skin on skin. Full balls slapping against each other. A ringed hand against a plush asscheek. Feral groans and whines of pleasure. So loud that no head is turned when the bathroom door bursts open.

‘What the fuck is this shit?!’ A new voice booms off the tiles.

Eddie and Max’s heads snapped round to the figure in the doorway. The pair caught, trousers round their ankles and Eddie balls deep in a stranger. The image is too incriminating to be anything other than it was. He was exposed and the sweat from the impending orgasm now runs cold. There was no hiding.

-----

damn who tf at the door? my man didnt even get to nut in the hot cowboy

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

#enam3l love lola #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x best friend reader #rockstar eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson is bisexual #rockstar eddie munson x you #eddie munson series

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phobiasupdates · 4 months ago

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!Omori AU Dump! pt. 1

This is an AU dump for A Bouquet of Rotten Diphylleia, made solely by me. I will also post all chapters here once I finish and re-edit them, that way those who don't use Ao3, or don't like Ao3, can read it.

This is basically going to be one of five(?) large AU dumps that I do for ABoRD. I don't exactly plan to continue the series, which is why I'm making this, just for anyone who might be curious of the lore.

(AU dump below cut)

This AU mainly derives from the fact that Mari committed suicide, and was not killed by Sunny, nor framed by Basil.

Sunny and Basil were the two who found Mari's hanged body the week of the recital, which still kind of links the two through her death. Sunny blames himself for Mari's commitment considering the fact that he had been the one not wanting to do the recital. Doesn't help that Sunny was the only one who knew that she had tried to commit a year before and had only been unsuccessful because Sunny had managed to stop her before she could. (She tried to drown herself in the lake, but Sunny had found her at the lake's edge.)

Sunny had created whitespace first to desensitize himself from the outside world. He hated the thought of Mari having actually committed. Hated the thought that he could've been the cause. He decided to turn to his own mind, where he could make up delusions and fantasies. He basically altered all of his recollections and memories of Mari, making her a "happier" person overall. Much more like canon Mari is in the game, minus the numerous Something references and underlying sense of "this isn't right" the game gives.

After making himself a blank-ish slate, he created Headspace. He realized that he himself was starting to feel overall worse and needed something to drive him away from the thoughts of self-harm and suicide. He feels guilty feeling those emotions since it always reminds him of Mari, and he knows it isn't exactly a healthy way to think.

Whitespace quickly turned into "Grayspace" an AU adaptation of his faltering mentality. He knows he is repressing everything, knows that it isn't right. It makes him feel guilty, which makes it difficult for him to disconnect from reality. He's very aware that he is mentally messed up, and that in itself creates a loop of relapsing.

Blackspace is where he goes when he has a particularly bad relapse, of which he's very aware of its presence. He knows Stranger and the Somethings, even talks to them. This differs from the in-game interactions where he like... never really interacts with them. Omori is also a Blackspace entity, mostly his voice of reasoning, and is not the vessel he uses for himself within Headspace. (Sunny is Sunny)

Basil visits during his years of isolation, creating a sort of co-dependency on the flower boy's side. He feels like he can really only confide in Sunny with most things considering the secrets they share between each other. (Sunny telling Basil that Mari had been suicidal for years. Basil confessing that he thinks about committing more often than not. Sunny telling Basil about headspace. Basil updating Sunny on everything that happens in Faraway. And more.)

At some point Sunny does re-emerge, about when he's 17 in this AU, and tries to catch up in his academics. He's able to finish all of middle/high school within two years since Basil had helped Sunny with his education during his Hikikomori phase. They both got back together with Aubrey and Kel during the time Sunny began to catch up in school, of which they all made a pact to wait for Sunny to finish school before they would all then go to college together.

During college, this dependency between Sunny and Basil grows into a twisted mangle of vines, where they eventually end up going to college. They room together for money reasons... and their festering dependency on one another.

The fic for this specifically takes place during the college phase, meant to show the bigger impact the trauma and dependency had on the two of them. Aka, how Basil's sickness had really only set in after Mari's death due to stress, anxiety, and the overall lack of self-care. (It's hinted at that Basil doesn't take his prescriptions.) And that Sunny's become a less emotional person who clings onto Basil for support. (You can see this in Sunny's POV, as he focuses very intently on Basil no matter what happens. He's less focused on his own emotions and words, and is much more intent on dissecting Basil's every movement.)

(Part 1 of 5)

Part 2 will focus on the details of Mari and Sunny's relationship, and why she had even committed in the first place.

Part 3 will focus on Sunny and Basil's growing dependency for the other over the year.

Part 4 will focus on Whitespace, Grayspace, Headspace, and Blackspace, both creation, design, and interaction-wise.

Part 5 will explain the college segment and A Bouquet of Rotten Diphylleia, will also include the official ending to this AU. (Hint: It's not a happy one.)

Thanks for reading through this, and showing some interest in this AU! (AU is called ABoRD)

My main blog is @faceyourphobia, where I ramble and actually interact with people. (This is my update/writing blog, so please reach out to my main blog if you want to get to know me!)

#Phobias Updates #au dump #omori #omori sunny #omori basil #omori sunflower #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #faceyourphobia #CONTENT WARNINGS!#Suicide #Self harm #co-dependency #Omori spoilers #ABoRD spoilers #ABoRD

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cherryfrostchris · 24 days ago

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the secret charm

chapter one: the reckoning

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing (part of series!) no copying or reposting, angst and mystery, royalty au, rivals to lovers, arranged marriage, may contain familal trauma, slight undertones of religious trauma, manipulation, murder (goes for the whole fic) proofread & edited | word count: 3.3k

Louis

A single key was played in the chorus of disaster, a final note was written in the crescendo of chaos.

The orchestrator was one unknown to me, but eerily spectral... in an almost ethereal way. Quite abruptly, my interest was piqued. Captivated like it was the brightest star on a dark twilight night, but stars don't shine because of their beauty, nor their worth. But because they're burning into an everlasting oblivion. And in their wake, they leave unfathomable scattered chaos across all the lands, covering all in their blazing stardust.... hopelessly enthralled in the flaming, fallacious star.

The smell of champagne and rich perfume clogged my senses to my dismay. I disliked the royal life although I was born into it and had lived this way all this time. My better judgement had trusted my inner conscience to never fall into the wicked grasps of the crisp dangers of hierarchy. But I knew all too well, I'd be surrounded, suffered in the darkness of high expectations. It was charging towards me like a typhoon of madness, all surrounded in a high standard ticket to everlasting stardom.

I sighed and stared at the unfamiliar world I was soon to be thrown into, as the limousine drove us into descending chaos, the only place in the world I would ever be hated most... even to my worst nightmares. Ethelle, the capitol city of Elles. Although, the hillsides were gorgeous and lush with people with lined pockets, and guarded hearts. There was no doubt their gazes were fierce and filled with venom at the presence of their ultimate rival on their land. I looked to my mother in protest as to why we were here... after all we were treading on enemy soil, and I'd longed to be anywhere but here. Even back at the castle, I remarked sarcastically to myself as I stared into the blinding light of the midday sun. The warmth was comforting in its own way, contrasting perfectly with the falling multicolor leaves of an early September day.

I had read about this place in books growing up as a small lad, this place, amongst the chaos and the intertwined past of this kingdom and mine, it was almost as if I knew it all. Ethelle was the heart of the country that had caused chaos and turmoil in my homeland of Lorxix, in a great war when both of the kingdoms were only in the beginning of forming their dynasties... in the early years. Before I was born, for certain. But shortly after I discovered the tangled and mysterious past of both of the kingdoms... and it was more than deadly, morbid I would describe.

The Styles are the rulers of Elles, a land of secrets, untied endings and lavish lives lived out with no sort of meaning or purpose...only for show, for an audience of empty eyes. Long ago, they had attacked my kingdom out of a fear of infidelity ad treason amongst the walls of their own kingdom...accusingly of my own blood. My own father, King Adrien Sky Tomlinson fell victim to King Edward and they both suffered the cruel fate of both of our kingdom's mistakes. Until now, I'd wanted nothing to do with the kingdom that left my own in shambles. But now I fear it's time to change the course of the future, and to make sure the past doesn't repeat itself.

Suddenly, the vessel carrying me to my doom stopped in front of the steps of a building with an exterior that looked as if it could have been carved out of stone by the gods themselves. My blue eyes scanned the beige building for a name as my eyes landed on it, a large, lettered sign with golden letters reading "ETHELLE CHARM SCHOOL" to my dismay as my mother looked at me mischievously.

"Mother..." I spoke with caution laced between my teeth as she gestures to the school grandly as I sigh and lean back in my seat in annoyance. To my dismay, my mother had informed me I'd be enrolled in the school for royals... in the land of our enemies for centuries before, it was almost treason in my eyes, quite literally being beside your enemy, and living amongst them! How could someone do such a thing? I supposed I would have to find out quite soon. Regardless of it all, my mother was set on defying the things that separate us as a society, therefore we must come together. Who knows, maybe I'll make some allies and friends for the future of my country while I'm captivated by the unfamiliar auras of a new future.

Or maybe, I'll compete in the greatest duel between the Styles and the Tomlinson's since the great war, whichever event would play out, I was more than ready to take it on. Perhaps, a new dawn will rule over us and peace will prosper. Otherwise... a great evil will spread throughout the lands once I'm crowned King, and to whomever is the Styles' heir to the throne will be doomed to my merciless wrath.

Somehow, someway she was dead set on correcting the errors 'our fathers before' had so wrongly decided upon with the great war against with the Styles' legacy. Peaceful in her nature and roughish in mine, I sought revenge. Quite frankly I'd like to think that'd never end, as long as my sword is as sharp as my wits it will be. Whether the both of us agreed or not both kingdoms had striking similarities, ones that tore them apart... or unconventionally could bring them together.

The Styles' and the Tomlinson's are both elites, strong warriors and cutthroat with a passion of blazing a trail for the destinies set before us. However, what separated me from my father before me was the halting of the centuries of repeated circumstances, I was committed to breaking the vicious cycle. The Styles were of a fickle breed, poisonously charming to a fault. Never letting any opportunity for betrayal slip through their fingers. Always, up for a challenge no matter how deadly. My father's mistake was questioning the all-powerful authority of a mourning mad man of love. Whom was already half gone and half damned, seeing that through the illusions of a fallen bond... bloodshed was the only call to the void.

Killing my father with his words and his sword, once allies... but no longer. Almost damned to say the bonds that connected them were ever true and sturdy in the first place. They were one for lying, two for extreme moral destitutions. And those damned green eyes resembling a vipers splint ones, spited and venomous, charmed and fraudulent.

So, in a turn of peaceful solidarity I'd be the first of the Tomlinson's to try to make amends with the Styles, no matter how much bitter resentment would try to drive us apart, I vowed to do it for my mother and my late father, if not myself. Or, no matter how much I wanted to slash the throat of the nearest Styles heir at point blank range.

"Louis my honey, it'll be good for you, after all a good King needs allies, and you can learn a thing or two here... perhaps meet a princess to make your Queen?" My mother suggested as I shrugged my arms hesitantly. I wasn't all that sure about my stay at Ethelle in the first place, so I'd rather take one thing at a time, I sighed in a conclusion that my fate had been sealed.

With the wordless rebuttal of my rebellious ways no longer up for debate, my personal assistants quickly piled out of the car to help me with all of my baggage. I gasped in the realization that my mother had already packed my bags, as if she wanted to send me away to an enemy institution so soon! Though, perhaps I was being too dramatic, to my curiosity I oddly wanted to know more about the seemingly quaint town of Ethelle and the school that resides in it.

To my shock, a young royal... judging by their crown, emerged from the school's grand and gleaming double doors peering directly at me with curiosity of multitudes and an unexplainable bout of mischief upon them. It was a young lad about my age, with brown wavy hair and striking green eyes with a certain allure to them. It almost looked as if they could promise you your wildest dreams, faintest fantasy, or cruelest nightmare, something told me that I would have to decide for myself...soon. My eyes scattered for a place to look to the boy's eyes were kept on me, opening me up and disregarding my weapons, leaving me completely defenseless.

Once he got close enough, his pearly white skin (at least if my eyes weren't deceiving me) shone, gleamed, sparkled, and shimmered in the fall sunlight as leaves crunched beneath his expensive shoes. His cherry-blossom lips parted slightly as words slipped from his mouth as his Ethellic accent shone through his words like a bursting ray of moonlight on a somber night.

"Hello...... mate," his words hit like a raging storm. "You must be... Prince Louis Tomlinson of Lorxix, I'm Prince Harry Styles from Elles... as you may know. I'm here to show you around the school this year, don't worry you'll fit in just fine." He smiled with an almost faux tone as he read my name from a card he was holding in his tattooed hand.

As he bowed before me and kissed my hand, my entire body nearly seized at his gesture. An entire ghostly chill snaked its way down my spine. How could a murderer's son be this deceiving in his own right?! He must have thought he were playing me for a fool like a grand piano in his own grand solo. My, my, my, he will be sorely mistaken when he discovers I am no fool to his dreamlike aura attempting to cloud my previous pretenses for him! As if he could wash it all away with quick looks and flashy charismatic moves...so he thought.

With a broad smirk on my face hidden behind my grumpy 'woe is me' exterior, I looked at him as he motioned me into the school as my servants went through a back entrance. Supposed to wherever the luggage is placed of the royals at this school, not making it any less suspicious, though. Of course, he was a Styles I scoffed, the minute I step foot on his soil he's already immersing my presence with faux affection and loaded laughs.

A new moment, my face flips, contorts and changes as he meets my eyes, flopping like a fish and desperate to cover up the thoughts that were so obvious onto my face. I sigh, perhaps nothing would change in result of my stay here... I admitted halfheartedly, and a bit gloomfully. I gazed at him critically as my eyes shot daggers while they retained their aura of innocence. No doubt I would determine his true demeanor long enough, he was a Styles, they all begin to show their true colors soon enough. I looked into Harry's ivy green eyes as they surrounded me with a warm suffocating gaze as he tried to comfort me with a hint of curiosity in his mind that was splayed across his face. I looked behind me to the limo that my mother and I had rode in here, as my past disappeared with it.

My eyes slowly examined inside of the double doors as strange men in white suits with golden accents on said suits opened the doors for us, shocked at my presence. All of a sudden, what I saw next completely took my breath away. The school was adorned with cavernous hallways at every corner, and lux decorations gracing the grand hall... trophy cases graced the walls as each plaque had names on them, ones I did not know, but I figured I would soon enough. Harry marveled at my reaction to the school as he daringly put his hand on my shoulder, breathing with me as if he had seen it for the first time, which I doubted he had since he resides in this city, so what was with the sudden gesture?

"If you must know," Harry started formally "Ethelle school is a historical school at best, very hard to get into. I'm legitimately surprised they let someone of your stature into the establishment. I suppose my mother wanted to give you a fighting chance at redemption." Harry spoke into my ear as I quickly pulled away from his hold as he laughed at my reflex as my hand ghosted over the shape of my sword in its sheath.

"And don't be afraid Louis, I am simply an old friend in some sort, am I not?" he smirks at the way I flinched away from his touch. As if he had mistaken it for fear instead of a grimace or disgust, as if I would tremble in his presence, shiver in his touch, he was in for a surprise I bet.

His eyes widen for a split second, before shifting to that same 'holier than thou' glint and lustrous-like look as if he wanted to eat me alive, and most likely not because he found me appealing...but the idea, however...

"So, you carry weapons on the regular hm? Should expect that from a Tomlinson," Harry started, inching his pompous attitude way over the line that I could manage, and I'd just only stepped into the door, I pinched the bridge between my nose in annoyance as I edged my sword out of its sheath out of pure spite. "Don't you dare reveal your sword to the light or I'll unarm you right here where you stand, trust in that Louis." Harry hissed into my ear as I held my hands up in defeat, rolling my eyes in the process.

"Hand it over..." Harry commanded, his fingers pointing towards himself as he pushed me to hand over my sword as I looked to him with bewilderment. As if I would give up my sword to the enemy after he'd just made a threat on my life seconds before? I scoffed as I walked away from him into a stray hallway carelessly, unknowing and uncaring of where I was going, anywhere away from the prince of pompous. I sneered at my own remark, I smirked mischievously at my new discovery, the dorm hall.

"You can't wander off like that Louis, this place is quite large. But oh, look you've found the dorms... I can only wonder who you'll be rooming with this year, God forbid it'd be me, or your head be chopped clean off before the first weeks end!" Harry exclaimed jokingly, his loud laugh booming throughout the hall, but something told me he was more than serious.

"Funny, say Prince of pompous tell me why your grand school is so dead, no one's here." I questioned judgingly as Harry overlooked my features as if I was daft. "It's a few days before school begins, you've arrived early. However, you'll be staying at my castle until the school year has officially started." Harry sneered wickedly as if his gaze would cast a wild spell on me that would cause unexplainable tortures and nightmares. And I was stuck in the middle of storm of an enigma of him. And I was desperately trying to escape it, to no avail of course, just my luck.

"Wonderful..." I groaned incessantly as Harry's eyes turned into slits pointed in my direction as he turned on his heel and continued to go on with the tour of the school's endless spacious rooms and hallways. As we continued on, my mind began to roam and float onto more interesting things such as what would truly come out of my year at Ethelle, I wondered. No doubt Harry would be driving me to my wits end before the finale of the school year. But bizarrely, I became interested in the complex archive of information that was housed in the walls that towered nearly everything. The aura of this place, hollow at best... but something possessed in it. Or... in me as it was suddenly shown to me, that this place had secrets, and lots of them.

And I, Prince Louis William Tomlinson of Lorxix was now completely, utterly in too deep to abort the mission of finding out exactly what Ethelle charm school was hiding. Or, if it was hiding anything at all. Suddenly, the sounds of Harry's Ethellic accent rang through my ears as he called my name incessantly as my neck nearly snapped at the speed, I'd turned around to face him as he looked at me. As if he now in this moment asked a daring question that I'd failed to answer. He stared at me with worlds of illusions that swam peculiarly in his eyes like an exotic fish through a fresh stream.

"Did you not hear me?" He inquired cluelessly as he shook his head at my lack of concentration, I'd scoff at his lack of closemouthed behavior.

"Erm... no, you talk so much I can't seem to keep up." I admitted bashfully but honestly as Harry's green eyes turned into splints of shining emerald that mirrored mine in the most delicate way one could ever stare. So hatefully, intricately, tearing me piece by piece, it disgusted me.

"Well, I informed you that things run differently at my school. We have twice annual dances every season. And roommates for boarding rooms are picked by yours truly and my mother the Queen of Elles... so you've made the wrong move getting on my bad side." Harry pushed with a smirk as if him controlling which room I would live in could sway me to kiss his pompous ass. I dismissed his failure at wooing me into petrified fear, as if someone of my high standard would stoop so low. I may be a rebel to all of the ridiculous hoops I would have to jump through... but no matter what I'd stay a royal at heart, no matter how much I'd loathed it.

"Ah, well... my days are numbered I'm shaking in my boots prince Harry, please except my formal apology!" My voice shook dramatically as I waved my hands in the air as a sign of defeat as Harry murmured under his breath and crossed his arms with a huff. Then to top it off, his eyebrows knitted together creating the most delicious grimace spread across his face. I lived for it surprisingly... the thrill of hitting him where it hurts fueled me in a way nothing had ever before. Getting my revenge perhaps, even in presumably the pettiest way known to man.

After all, we were natural born enemies like gods and monsters, we both knew who was on either side of each fight. It was only expected for the both of us to be cutthroat, it's what kept our hearts beating and our swords sharp. I sighed as Harry went on with his endless monologue about the attire I must wear to school and the academic requirements to keep myself afloat. I rolled my eyes while his back was turned, what was with Mr. speeches forevermore again? I had not the slightest idea.

"Don't make it harder for yourself than it already is twat, it's about to be the worst year you've ever seen." Harry warned angrily, his devilish tone predicted a challenge, I presumably knew there wouldn't be one.

Let the reckoning begin.

author's note: starting a new story is always like a breath of fresh air to me, I truly hope you've enjoyed the chapter... after all this is only the beginning. I personally love Louis and Harry's interactions, like lol they both hate each other so much it's funny. I can't wait to see the reaction of all of my readers reading this story as it progresses and things change... how do you all like this first chapter? Let me know, don't be shy! I'd love to hear any of your theories or opinions on my work, I live for it actually, so if you're up for it you can ask me anytime about anything regarding my books, it's a safe place for everyone. Alright, off to vanish into the dark mysterious hallways of Ethelle's charm school to write another chapter! See you next time my friends! all the love, cherryfrostchris

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#larry stylinson #.ೃ࿐ cherryfrostchris #cherryposts #sostarstudded #larry stylinson au #royalty au #angst & mystery au #charm school #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #the secret charm #one direction #larry stylinson fic

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ilreleonewikia13 · 2 years ago

Text

Before you read, I wrote the first draft of this post in October, then I resumed it in April, but then in May I decided to heavily re-edit it when I noticed the massive grammatical errors that I left. So the version you will read is quite changed from its original form. Starting with the decision to split it into more chapters and not in a single piece as I did before. I even tried to add more characterization to some events as I noticed that maybe I rushed up some important things, cause when I wrote this "fanfic that is not a fanfic" I didn't have a clear vision of the events in their complexity. Some parts were very detailed and explained well, while other parts are only briefly mentioned. As I re-edit it I tried to make everything more cohesive and pleasing to read. For this reason, unlike the first version, this post will only be about the disclaimers and the introduction of my "fanfiction not fanfiction", as the whole "story" will be published on AO3. As I'm writing this I've already posted 2 of the 5 parts, and right now I'm working on the editing of the 3th chapter.

The Doom in Our Blood Comes Back - the Fanfic of a Fanfic

INTRODUCTION TO THE MANUSCRIPT: THE CHRONICLES OF TWO DRAGONS

TRIUMPHS AND DEFEAT

THE CONQUEST OF DORNE

RUBIES AND IRON

When do you start to realize that a fanfiction stops being just a fanfiction and becomes a real work of entertainment?

For me it's when reading it makes you want to theorize about it as if it were a real book and even before it is finished: this is what happened to me with "The Blacks and the Greens" by @sweetestpopcorn a fanfiction (which almost every fan who started watching the series has read if like me you went looking for Daemyra fanfics on AO3 as soon as it started) that tells the story of the Dance of Dragons starting with the idea that Daemon and Rhaenyra got married as soon as their "affair" was discovered, thus an AU of the original plot leading to a completely different scale of events from the original plot of the series/book.

This story, still in progress (at the exact moment I’m writing this post it arrived “just” at its 170th chapter) has gripped me so much this past month that my brain convinced me that this was the real canon story and made me completely forget about the existence of the TV series: so if you are interested to read this AU I suggest you read the original fic, even if it’s a little bit long cause it’s totally worth it.

I thought about writing an actual story about these ideas I had but then changed my mind. It didn't make sense to write about one idea when I already had a bigger story planned that wasn't finished yet.

As I said before, the story from where I take inspiration is only halfway done and things might change a lot in the upcoming chapters as I write this post. This means that the characters I'll talk about in this headcanon might have died to are going to because I don't control the story, the author does.

As I write this post, my idea for "this story" went in a totally different direction than what the original author intended. It became its own separate version of the Blacks and the Greens, with a different set of rules and logic.

I am a big fan of the Black side in the civil war and like happy endings. I wanted Helaena to be happy with her kids and for Rhaenyra to rule the Seven Kingdoms with her husband and raise her five children. In my imagination, the Greens give up quickly and Rhaenyra becomes the Queen without any fighting. She brings both sides together and makes the dynasty stronger.

This means that in this universe almost all of the Targaryen family is still alive and because the war didn't last too much the finance of the kingdom is not significantly damaged making the reign of the Black Queen very prosperous and full of innovations, technically and artistically speaking, making for them more effortless to conquest Dorn and made Westeros finally United.

The first idea for this story was to talk about Rhaenyra and Daemon's five children and their fun experiences instead of just focusing on Rhaenyra and Daemon's relationship, which is already the main focus of The Blacks and The Greens.

When I was reading the fanfic for the first time, I knew that liked Baela the most because of her personality: plus in my head, she's like a female version of Daemon for this reason, I decided to use her as the main character in my story.

She, in my mind, had the right characteristic to be our main POV, being, in my head, the “middle child” of the group - so the one who is between Aegon and Viserys (the boys) and Rhaena and Visenya (the girls) - and that belong to both of the two worlds, the feminine and the masculine, and have both these sides with her. She, in my fantasy, will spend a lot of time with her two brothers, with whom she will share a very strong bond as a very strong rivalry for the attention of their father; with the girls too she will have a special relationship. Especially with Rhaena who is her twin, who is, in some way, her opposite and her complementary, especially in the way they decide to express their femininity over the years. I think that in the Book-canon, Baela looks more masculine than what it was depicted in The Blacks and the Greens, and because this headcanon is heavily inspired by that fanfic, I decided to follow this vision more than the canon one.

In this universe, she dresses like a combination of Queen Visenya, whom Baela really likes, and Queen Rhaenys. Baela is both strong and sensual like her mother Rhaenyra. She wears bright colors like red and loves jewelry.

I thought about what clothes would look good on her at the court. I imagined she would like dresses that were fun and sexy, with low necklines and tight bodices. These dresses would be like armor to her and would have lots of beads on them. I got ideas from the outfits worn by Anne Boleyn in the show The Tudors, which I really like.

She likes to show she is comfortable with her sexuality, without feeling ashamed for having fun with men as she thinks that both women and men should be able to act in the same way. Besides her regular clothes, I also see her wearing softer and masculine tunics as she trains, showing how much she loves the culture of the East continents. Even though she doesn't like to study, Baela enjoys reading High Valyrian poems and listening to Lysene music, as she prefers to sing over playing it. I can imagine her spending time flying and staying with her dragon more than her siblings. She will become very fond of her dragon, Moondancer. She will also train with her brothers with the sword and be very good at it.

Because Baela became a such strong and intense character in my mind, I started to think that she needed an equally strong and enigmatic counterpart that matched it, but at the same time opposed it and gave it a hard time: or in reality the opposite, that is someone she could challenge and confront, someone equally crazy and reckless, but by the opposite and darker energy.

And so that at any moment this post headcanon "The Blacks and the Greens" has become somehow a story focused on Baela and Aemond, or at least with a particular focus on the relationship and the clashes between these two.

Let me make it clear that the choice to "pair" these two characters were not based on a double interpretation of the original story, which clearly shows a strong dislike for Aemond and the Greens in general. The decision to highlight Aemond's character was solely influenced by the irresistible charm of Ewan Mitchell, the actor who played the role in the television adaption, which unfortunately clouded my judgment. To be absolutely clear, I have never felt any form of empathy towards him during my entire fanfiction journey, except for some mere pity.

There were multiple factors that led me to spare the lives of Aemond and Aegon, as I believed it would be more gratifying to let them suffer as they experienced the consequences of all the actions that they made thought the first half of The Blacks and the Greens and the accompanying disgrace of their defeat, rather than simply executing them on the spot.

In this headcanon, Aemond will undergo significant transformations, causing a profound shift in his mentality and character due to experiencing a series of intense and traumatic events. As a result, this version of Aemond will differ significantly from both the Bookcanon and the Blacks and the Greens. The decision was serendipitously influenced by reading a particular sentence in the fanfic where the detestable Aemond ridicules Daemon for allowing Rhaenyra to mistreat him and become submissive to his sister, referring to him as a "slut." Aemond expresses his reluctance to ever allow a woman to control him as his uncle did.

Well, these two simple sentences made me decide that I need to create my own headcanon where Aemond would become the exact thing that he always derided his uncle for: a "loser" who would be bossed around by all the women in his life. And not only command but as a great misogynistic bastard who was, after touching the bottom of the funds, it would be a woman to save him and put him on track, making him feel indebted to her.

So this is how this literary experiment was born.

A simple and very banal enemies-to-lovers story with A LOT of drama and a bunch of dragons, but that needs the perfect setting to work, for this reason, most of the work I did was on figuring out how to set the side character and the background events in a way that could serve my goal.

As I specified many times in this exaggeratedly verbose disclaimer and in the tags this is not actual fanfic, I will not so use a prostatic style like many other stories in this platform, still, I want my readers to have a pleasing experience while reading this work, the result of a very elaborate mental wank and my pressing need to take my mind off my real duties, so I decided to write the whole thing as if it were a cross between historical writing and the introduction to a Greek tragedy.

Imagine, just like in Fire and Blood, that an obviously bored scholar set out to write the memoirs of Rhaenyra and her deeds; as I tried to make up this story I even tried to figure out the timeline of our characters' birth, some of them are the canon ones used in the books, while the others are the ones I tried to calculate trying to use some mathematics and the information that the writer give us on her fic. This means that it's not very precise, but I hope it's remotely accurate.

Aemond= 110

Daeron =114

Addam=114

Alyn=115

Larra= 115

Aegon III = 118

Viserys = 119

Daenaera = 120

Baela and Rhaena =121

Visenya= 125

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera = 123

Maelor = 127

Baelor = 130

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