#or maybe i have told her something ive forgotten

[yume-fanfare]

on a slightly different note a friend i made recently who hasn't known me for long enough was telling me this morning "did you see this one character i think he's kind of your type" (proceeds to show me brat with pink hair) and it's fascinating that she clocked me so fast. i hadnt even told her abt mitsuba Or anything abt enstars

[dreamdragonkadia]

As Written Above, So Shall It Be Below Part - IV Word Count: 6.8k A/N: The drama is happening. Feedback, comments, thoughts, and theories are always appreciated! Main Pairing: Rhysand/Reader/Feyre Prev - Next ✦ Ao3

You’d been expecting him.

Not in the conscious way—but in the quiet tickle along your spine, the prickle of shadow that always used to arrive just before Azriel did. And Estella—of course—seemed to sense it too. She looked up from her drawing, brows lifting.

Her little wings gave a soft flick behind her shoulders. “He’s here!” she chirped.

And just like that, it was as if you’d been pulled through time—years peeled back in an instant. Azriel, appearing without sound or warning in your office to deliver his reports. Shadows curling around the room like lazy cats. You blinked, forcing the memory aside before it could root itself too deep.

“Ah,” you said, keeping your voice light, “it seems the Spymaster has come to grace us with his presence once more.”

The book in your hand remained open, but your finger stayed pressed to the page, marking your place. You didn’t look at him right away—but the teasing lilt in your voice had already found its mark. Azriel gave a soft huff of breath. Not quite a laugh. But close enough knowing him.

“Milady,” he said, dipping his head. Still standing. Still formal. As if this were any other meeting. As if the years apart didn’t press on the room like a second sky. As if nothing had changed.

You gestured lazily to the armchair across from you. “Come sit. Tell me—have you told your court all my secrets yet?”

He didn’t move. “My High Lord did not ask,” he said simply.

“Then the game continues.”

From the floor, Estella suddenly shouted, “Hi Uncle Azzy!” without even glancing up from her paper. Her crayon was clutched in one small fist, a smudge of color across her cheek. She’d very aggressively got into drawing lately.

Azriel blinked. Slowly. Like the words had taken a moment to register. “…Uncle Azzy?” he repeated, brow arching as he turned his gaze back to you.

You shrugged, though something tight curled in your chest. “You’ve been deemed worthy, apparently.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

You let the silence stretch for a few seconds, letting Estella’s soft humming fill the room as she scribbled in the corner—content in her own little world.

Then you allowed the thought to surface. 

“The Cursebreaker has a sister, yes?” you asked, casually turning the page of your book though you weren’t reading anymore.

He glanced up, nodding once. “Two. Elain and Ne—”

“Yes, yes. The Seer and the Kingslayer.” You waved your hand like brushing away a gnat. Then your voice dipped, tone shifting just slightly. “What can you tell me about the oldest one?”

His posture didn’t change, but the shadows at his shoulders curled tighter—subtle, but you noticed. “Nesta,” he said carefully. Like her name could summon her. Tense. A story there maybe? 

You nodded slowly. Pretended neutrality. “Is she always so… poised to strike?”

You weren’t sure how else to describe it. That energy she carried in the dream. Like she was always waiting for something to attack her—or maybe waiting for permission to attack first.

And if not… then what? She observed. Too aware of her surroundings. Looked like someone who’d forgotten how to be held without flinching.

His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite amusement. “Sometimes.” A pause. “She’s... difficult.”

You hummed, tipping your head as though examining the word. “I find that most people who are called ‘difficult’ are simply unwilling to play a role that was forced on them. Cassian was the same way once upon a time, no?”

There were exceptions, of course. But Nesta didn’t seem like the type. Too much in her own head or getting lost in the grassy expanse of the dream.

That earned the faintest breath of a laugh from him. Barely audible, but it was there.

“Perhaps.” His gaze drifted to the window. “She’s keen. Brutal, when she wants to be. Proud. She doesn’t bend easily—and she doesn’t break quietly.”

You looked down at the book, trailing over the words. Trying to figure out how to be careful when asking. “Does she get along with the rest of your Inner Circle?”

Azriel didn’t answer right away. That alone told you more than a spoken answer might have.

“It’s... complicated,” he said at last. “She and Cassian butt heads. Constantly. At least when they do talk. She barely speaks to Rhys or Feyre. And Elain—” He stopped himself. Shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not easy. She’s not easy.”

You blinked. Held his gaze.

“But you respect her.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded slowly. “She survived. She’s still surviving. There’s power in that. If she wants to heal.”

You let your gaze drift away, toward the gardens, where sunlight painted yellow across the stone. You remembered that power. Had seen it—felt it.

Not that he knew. He didn’t know she had appeared in your dreams. You weren’t ready to say it aloud. Not until you understood why.

So instead, you said simply, “Interesting.” Neutral. Safe.

“You don’t want to know more about the other two?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve heard enough. Thesan and Jurian are both busybodies who love gossip more than wine.”

“I had heard Queen Vassa brought Jurian into her court.”

From the floor, Estella huffed loudly, and without looking up from her drawing, declared, “Uncle Jurian is a bully. He called me a fewal rat this morning.”

She’d been working hard on rolling her r’s lately. Still a bit shaky—but she was proud of the attempt.

You snorted, barely managing to stifle it behind your hand. He had. Estella had launched herself through the castle corridor,  aiming for Jurian’s back for what had to be the thirteenth time that week. The man hadn’t even flinched—just reached back, caught her midair, and plopped her into a chair with all the grace of someone who’d done it too many times before. “Stop being a feral rat like your father,” he’d muttered, and Thesan—who had been walking behind them—had nearly choked trying not to laugh.

You rubbed a hand down your face. “You are your father’s daughter,” you muttered under your breath. 

Because she was. She had his eyes. His wings. His penchant for trouble and charm and getting away with more than anyone should let her. Maybe she had your nose—barely. But everything else? Rhysand. From the slant of her grin to the stubborn tilt of her chin. Even the way she drew the world around her like she expected it to bend.

Estella looked back at you then—just a flicker of a glance, brief but piercing. Her eyes met yours and blinked once, too slow, too knowing. Like she was seeing something you weren’t. Like she always did. Then she turned back to her drawing, wings drooping just a fraction, as if she’d caught something that you didn’t.

Azriel’s voice pulled you back. Low. Flat. Faintly incredulous. “Uncle Jurian?” It wasn’t quite a question. More… an accusation. Like the word uncle attached to Jurian had personally offended him.

“Believe it or not, Jurian plays with her. Quite a lot, actually.”

His brows lifted, but it was Estella who chimed in, voice light and proud. “He gives me piggyback rides and lets me throw his daggers.”

You blinked. “He does what now?”

She nodded, entirely unbothered. “He told me not to tell Auntie Vas or any of the other humans. Said they’d get all mad and screechy.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked toward you with a look that could only be described as: This is the child you’re raising?

You exhaled, dragging a hand down your face. “Of course he did,” you muttered.

The little Fae beamed. So pleased with herself. “I almost hit the practice dummy once!”

“Almost,” you repeated faintly.

“She’s trouble,” he murmured, watching her draw a wonky dagger in the margins of her parchment, complete with little stars around it. “Like someone else I know.”

“Correction,” you said, gathering your composure. “She’s a diplomatic nightmare waiting to happen.”

A soft huff of breath might have been a laugh. Or as close to one as Azriel ever got.

“I’m sure, as you know, the Dawn Court is here,” you said aloud, voice clearer now, more formal—pulling away from whatever thread had started to tug too tight beneath your ribs. “I’m leaving. We’re leaving.” 

Azriel’s brow lifted, though he said nothing.

You closed your book completely now, setting it aside. “Vassa named me ambassador to the Dawn Court. I’ll be traveling there with Jurian to finalize the alliance.”

You shouldn’t have told him directly. But he would find out eventually and report it back to his court. That Dawn was allying themselves with humans.

He didn’t question your words—didn’t doubt them—but you could tell by the way his jaw ticked, by the shift in his posture, that he wanted to. That something in him pulled tight at the idea.

“It’s temporary,” you added, though whether it was for him or for yourself, you didn’t know. “A few weeks. Maybe more. Just long enough to see the terms through. Thesan’s already offered to house us inside the royal compound, far from the prying eyes of anyone who might recognize me.”

Azriel nodded once, slowly.

You continued, “We leave at the end of the week, so you’re more than welcome to visit before then. I’m sure she could use the flying pointers.” 

You hadn’t expected much of a reaction, but Estella shot up so fast it was like someone had lit a fire beneath her. Her wings flared wide and her eyes sparkled like starlight caught in crystal.

“Flying?!” she gasped. “Are we going? Are we going?”

Azriel blinked in surprise at her sudden energy, and you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped you as she scrambled over the cushions, practically bouncing toward him. One hand on the edge of the couch, the other tugging at the hem of his leathers.

“Mama said flying,” she declared, face flushed, wings twitching excitedly. “Are you going to take me? Please? Please? I’ll be so good, Uncle Azzy.”

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked down at her, that small hand clenched in the folds of his armor, her entire body practically vibrating with hope. His shadows swirled around him—not tense, not wary. Just still. Listening.

Then, slowly, Azriel knelt.

“Flying isn’t a game,” he said, his voice soft. “You fall wrong, you break something. Or worse.”

Estella’s wings drooped a little.

But Azriel didn’t let her sink into it. He studied her—head tilted slightly, assessing the flare of her nostrils, the stubborn set to her jaw. So much fire, tucked into such a small frame.

“But,” he continued, quieter now, “if you’re ready to listen—really listen—I’ll teach you how not to fall.”

She brightened like the sun had broken over her. “Yes! I’ll listen, I promise!” She bounced on her heels. “Like a warrior. Like the best warrior ever!”

“With that spirit, you’ll fly just fine.”

He straightened, his eyes flicking to you. You met his gaze and saw the question forming—the quiet ask beneath his stoic mask.

“Tomorrow?” he offered.

But before you could answer, Estella blurted—“Why not now?”

Azriel stilled.

You blinked, caught off guard, but Estella had already turned toward you with those enormous eyes and added, “Pleeeeease?” Drawing out the word like it was a spell.

There was a heartbeat of silence. Then Azriel gave the smallest nod.

“Alright,” he said.

Estella gasped and spun in a circle, her wings giving a little flutter. “Right now?! Really?! Mama, can I go?”

You smiled faintly, heart caught somewhere between panic and pride, and gave her a slow nod. “Go on, then.”

And before you could even blink, she was grabbing Azriel’s hand and dragging him toward the doors, chattering all the way about how high she wanted to go and how fast she thought she could fly. “I know a secret spot! So no one will know you are here!” 

You quietly followed behind.

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

“She’s barely a child and you’ve already given her knives?” you huffed, adjusting the small satchel across your shoulder. A few feet away, Estella stood beside Eosara, clutching her hand. Just a week into her flying lessons with Azriel, and the girl could already hover two feet off the ground—wings level, posture proud.

Jurian didn’t even look up as he replied, “She’s a Fae child. How long before you start giving her a dagger willingly?”

You glared at him. “Do you think we just hand out knives the moment our children leave the womb?”

“Yes. You’re Fae. Everyone knows you don’t have hearts—especially you. You cold-hearted, soulless—”

“Enough,” Vassa cut in.

There was a heartbeat of silence.

“Wow,” Jurian said, arching a brow. “‘Enough.’ That’s it? What an order. What happened to your flair for theatrics, Your Majesty? You’re slipping.”

“And here we go,” Lucien muttered from behind you, already turning slightly like he might make an escape attempt.

You only sighed. “They always need to get one last argument in before we leave.”

Across the courtyard, Vassa had turned fully toward Jurian now, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing wildly as she launched into a rebuttal that involved, of all things, his lack of fashion sense and the fact that he apparently snored like a dying warhorse.

Of course, Jurian looked delighted. “You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest. “And here I thought you’d finally accepted that I’m the best thing to ever happen to your court.”

“You’re the reason my court drinks before breakfast,” Vassa snapped.

He only grinned like it was a badge of honor.

Honestly, it was more calming than it had any right to be. Their bickering. The rhythm of it. Reassuring in a way that made your chest warm. Like no matter how far you’d run from home—or what you were about to return to—some things still made sense.

Still stayed the same.

Even if the stars above whispered of change.

They’d been acting strangely for days now—no visions, no warnings, just quiet pulses of emotion. Hope. Anticipation. The feeling of almost—as if the future had already begun shifting beneath your feet.

You hadn’t looked at the constellations since dawn. You didn’t want to see what they might be trying to say now. Instead, you focused on the soft approach of footsteps—Thesan.

“Your daughter seems quite excited to see Prythian,” he said gently.

You followed his gaze. Estella was spinning in slow circles near the fountain with Eosara, arms stretched wide like she could already take off without wings. Her excitement had built to a quiet hum that hadn’t left her all day.

“She’s more excited than I expected,” you admitted, brushing your hand against your skirts. “I think… being near your court stirred something in her.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can to ensure it grows gently,” Thesan said, and there was something honest in that promise. Something rooted and true.

You hesitated, voice quieter now. “Do you… worry? If the truth comes out?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand. Thesan never played dumb. He simply folded his hands behind his back and looked toward the moon.

“Rhysand will be furious,” he said at last. “Of course. Rightfully so.”

You exhaled, but he continued.

“But he wouldn’t strike first. Not with me. And not with you. He is many things, but not reckless—not when it comes to those he loves.”

Your throat tightened, but you gave him a nod. That was the most anyone could promise you. The most you could hope for.

“Let this be what it is,” Thesan added gently. “Not a shameful secret. The beginning of a truce.”

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know if it could be.

Not yet.

Not with everything hanging in the balance.

A rustle of heat and silk told you Vassa had reappeared, her expression shuttered—tired, but watching.

“You’ll write,” she said simply. “Or I’ll send Jurian with a letter opener and instructions.”

You gave a huff of dry laughter. “You’d really do that to him?”

“Gladly,” Vassa said, though something in her expression softened. “Come back if anything happens. You don’t have to stay there for me.”

You stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug before she could stop you.

She didn’t resist.

For a long moment, she was simply quiet in your arms.

“It makes me anxious to leave you alone,” you whispered, the words barely brushing the space between you. “Do not hesitate to send for me. If anything happens—if anything feels off, I will come back.” It wasn’t a promise—it was a vow. One she didn’t need to hear to believe.

When Vassa pulled back, her features schooled into something firmer, something lighter, she bent slightly and tapped Estella on the shoulder as the little girl trotted up beside you. “Try not to start any wars, little one,” she said, her voice edged with a kind of teasing warmth that only surfaced when Estella was involved.

“I won’t,” Estella replied solemnly, chin tilted high. Then, with perfect seriousness, “Unless someone tries to take my food.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for her hand, the small fingers fitting neatly into yours.

“We’ll return soon.” You added, stepping back. 

Vassa only nodded. She didn’t say it, but you could read it in her eyes—I’ll hold the line. Beside you, Thesan inclined his head in that courtly way of his, the movement elegant as it was genuine. A thanks to the Queen who had hosted his court, and to the woman—his old friend—who now stood beside him not as a ghost, but as something real.

And then the Dawn Court vanished into starlight, winnowing in clean, controlled bursts of power. Jurian, Estella, and you among them—guests returning to a place that thought you dead.

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

It felt surreal. That was the only word that came close. Like stepping back into a memory preserved in glass. Everything around you shifted too quickly, too completely, as though someone had peeled back the layers of time and placed you within a painting you hadn’t realized you missed until now. The stone halls gleamed like morning dew, the air carrying faint traces of citrus blossoms and warmed parchment. Distant voices murmured greetings as the Dawn Court reappeared in its full glory—staff bowing, courtiers watching with wide eyes, and the soft hum of the High Lord’s return reverberating through the marble.

You barely noticed any of it.

Estella had gasped. Her wings flared slightly. She was tugging at your hand, her small fingers gripping tight. “Mama,” she whispered, and it wasn’t excitement or fear. It was wonder. And you couldn’t bring yourself to look down at her, couldn’t look at Jurian who stood stiffly at your side, couldn’t meet Thesan’s gaze from across the room where concern began to settle.

Because something had shifted.

Something was shifting.

Not panic—though it stirred at the edges. Not fear, either. But a humming deep in your chest. A pulse that didn’t feel like your own. A feeling you had never known before. It rose like a tide and echoed like a drum.

Here. Here. Here. Mine. Mine. Mine.

You shoved the thought away, too violently. It caught you off-balance—literally. You staggered, your footing slipping from beneath you, and Jurian moved fast. His hands caught your shoulders, holding you up before you could hit the floor.

Scents hit you next. Two stood out among the hundreds. One was so familiar, it made your throat close—citrus and sea salt. The other… unfamiliar and yet—achingly familiar. Lilac and pear. Like childhood dreams you couldn’t quite remember. Like a home you never got to live in.

You clung to Jurian like a lifeline.

The rest came too fast. Fainter traces: leather and snow, the scent of wind and bloodied steel. Shadows. Secrets. You knew those smells. Had buried your face into those cloaks. Had laughed beside them, bled beside them. The Inner Court. The scent was old—faint, as if months removed—but it was there. They had been here.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. You wanted to run, to scream, to collapse beneath the memory and possibility.

And just as quickly, it vanished.

That hum. That pull. That feeling. Gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Like the realm itself had exhaled and drawn back the veil.

You stood frozen in the center of the marble floor. And the only thing that filled the silence was the beat of your own heart, echoing in your ribs like the sound of something that had just… begun.

Someone said your name. Maybe Thesan. Maybe Jurian. Maybe both. You didn’t really hear it, not fully. Not as Thesan stepped closer, checking for injury you couldn’t feel, not when he offered quiet, respectful words and promised discretion. Not even when the escort of trusted Fae began guiding you down the hallways—silent, attentive—to the rooms that had once been reserved only for dignitaries of the highest rank. 

Estella had darted ahead of you the moment she realized the suite was vast enough to play hide and seek in. She’d twirled across the marble floors like they were a ballroom stage, peeked under the bed, squealed at the sight of a bathing chamber carved from pale quartz. She’d burst out onto the balcony with a shriek of delight at the sight of trees, of birds, of sky. You followed—because you had to. Because she might’ve tried to leap off the rail to test her wings. But your voice died in your throat the moment you stepped outside and looked up.

The stars were brighter than they had been in years.

Welcome home, they whispered in that silent language.

You didn’t remember how you’d managed to get Estella into bed, only that she had fallen asleep with her little hand still wrapped around your finger. You had kissed her brow, tucked the blankets around her wings, whispered something soft you couldn’t remember now. And then you had returned to the balcony—because you couldn’t bear to stay inside.

You didn’t want her to see. 

The doors remained closed behind you. A faint breeze lifted strands of your hair and brushed against your skin like a lover’s hand. You sank onto the ground and tilted your head back. And that was when the tears came.

Slow. Silent. Sliding down your cheeks as if they’d always been waiting. You made no move to stop them.

You hadn’t cried in months. Years, really—not like this. But here, in the stillness, in this place that once knew your laughter and your grief… there was nothing to shield yourself against. Nothing to hold you upright except memory.

And it was memory that found you again—gently, at first. Like slipping beneath still water. Your eyes closed, and your mind drifted, the stars above blurring, shifting.

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

You stood in the heart of Velaris, just at the edge of the balcony that overlooked the Sidra. The sky was painted in indigo and soft starlight, the river below glittering like spilled silver as it wound through the city. Music drifted faintly from the streets, laughter spilling from open windows. Somewhere, someone was playing a harp, the melody wrapping around the buildings like silk.

And there he was.

Leaning lazily against the carved stone rail of the balcony, one ankle crossed over the other, wine glass in hand. His robe was half-unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up, like he'd gotten too warm and hadn't bothered fixing himself. His hair was a little mussed, his eyes glowing like amethysts in the dim light.

Rhysand.

The image of him struck something in you like a bell. Like remembering how it felt to breathe after holding it too long.

He turned his head at your approach, lips curving in that way that always made you suspicious—like he knew something you didn’t. And then that smile softened, gentled into something private, something quiet. A look he wore only for you.

“Well,” he drawled, swirling the wine, “it took you long enough.”

You crossed your arms as you stepped onto the balcony, arching a brow. “I was being polite. Letting your ego arrive first.”

He laughed—low and husky—and set the wine down. “You wound me.”

You gave him a look. “Awe, poor baby.”

Rhysand pushed off the rail with the kind of unhurried grace that only came from being born to rule and far too pretty for his own good. “For a moment there, I thought you were hiding from me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he said fondly, voice softer now.

Then he reached for you.

You didn’t hesitate. You let him pull you close, the warmth of him wrapping around you like a second skin. One hand slid to the small of your back, the other into your hair, and you leaned into it—into him—like it was second nature. Like it had always been.

He pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered, almost against your skin, “There you are.”

You grinned against his chest. “I was literally three feet away.”

“Still,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your hair, “you were too far.”

You rolled your eyes, but your arms tightened around him. “So dramatic.”

“Says the woman who once faked a diplomatic injury to get out of a meeting with Keir.”

“I actually twisted my ankle—”

“You threw yourself down a marble staircase.”

“It was a very small staircase.”

He chuckled. “Mad. Completely mad.”

“And you married me anyway,” you whispered.

“I’d do it again,” he replied, fierce with quiet affection. “In every lifetime. In every world.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, to say something back—something light or teasing or maybe even serious—

Not until the first rays of light dragged you awake.

You found yourself in the bathing chamber shortly after, cold water cupped in your palms, dabbing at the puffiness around your eyes. As if you could wash away the memory. As if you could scrub clean the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body. As if pretending the dream hadn’t shaken you would make it true.

You pulled yourself together before Estella woke.

Because that was what you did.

And the days that followed—those first two weeks in the Dawn Court—settled into a strange, quiet rhythm.

True to his word, Thesan had offered only the most trusted spaces for your stay. A wing tucked near the royal gardens, far enough from wandering courtiers, close enough to the sea that salt would sometimes carry in through the windows. The sunrises there were soft, golden things. And every morning you stood on the balcony and let the light hit your face, as if it might burn away everything that clung too tightly.

Estella adjusted in the way only children could. With awe, and laughter, and curiosity unburdened by the feeling that pressed against your ribs each time you walked the halls. She adored Eosara and her brother and all the other Peregryns, trailed after them like a shadow, her wings fluttering excitedly whenever Thesan passed by. She asked questions—so many questions—about the court, about the people, about the statues and the flowers and the moon-silvered reflecting pools.

She hadn’t asked about her court.

Not yet.

And then there was the biting.

She had started chewing on things—sleeves, collars, even once on Jurian’s leather bracer—muttering about her teeth hurting. It hadn’t taken long to figure out her fangs were coming in sharper, shifting her bite and making all the rest of her teeth ache. It was uncomfortable and irritating, and naturally, she’d taken to biting people as a coping mechanism.

Jurian had yelped the first time she’d chomped down on his hand during an argument about bedtime. You’d warned him not to poke the bear, but to be fair, she had been half-asleep and mid-tantrum.

To your surprise, Jurian proved an excellent buffer. A voice of reason in court sessions, a biting wit at the dinner table, and—on more than one occasion—a co-conspirator in helping Estella sneak extra honey cakes from the kitchens. His presence made things easier. Not easy, but easier.

At least, until Estella bit you.

It happened over breakfast—of all mundane, peaceful times. You had leaned down to brush her hair back from her face, and without warning, she turned her head and sank her little teeth right into the crook of your shoulder.

You’d yelped, more out of shock than pain, nearly dropping your cup.

“Estella!”

She blinked up at you with wide, innocent eyes and then, unrepentantly, said, “It was loose.”

Across the table, Jurian choked on his drink. He was doubled over within seconds, laughing so hard his face turned red, barely managing to wheeze out, “I told you—she’s feral.”

You sent him a withering glare, one hand clamped over your shoulder as Estella looked vaguely proud of herself.

“She bit me,” you said, incredulous. “She actually bit me.”

Thesan set down his fork and dabbed his mouth with a napkin before saying very gently, “It’s not uncommon during this stage. Fangs developing can be… uncomfortable.”

“She drew blood.”

“Only a little,” Estella chirped, her wings twitching behind her like they had opinions of their own.

“I am going to build her a chew toy out of ironwood,” you muttered, reaching for your napkin.

“You’re lucky she didn’t go for the jugular,” he said, utterly useless as he leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I warned you she was part beast.”

“You called her a feral rat,” you shot back.

“And she’s living up to the branding.”

The High Lord sighed, long-suffering, though his mouth twitched at the edges. “If you’d like, I can have one of our healers brew a numbing salve for her gums. It might help ease the discomfort… and preserve peace at the breakfast table.”

Estella had groaned dramatically and flopped sideways into your lap, as if the world had ended with the mention of “healer.”

And the alliance? It was going well. Negotiations proceeded steadily, if a little delicately. You’d forgotten how clever Fae could be—how their smiles could have two meanings and every word dripped with suggestion. You gave an inch, and they wanted to take a mile. Even Thesan, typically diplomatic to a fault, had dared to ask for something so outrageously ambitious you’d just blinked at him and replied flatly, “It’s still human land. The answer is going to be no.”

He hadn’t pushed. But he’d smiled. As if you reminded him of someone.

For the first time since arriving, your body had started to unclench. You slept—restlessly, but you slept. Estella laughed more freely. And you’d begun to believe, just for a heartbeat, that nothing was looming. That for once, your choices had held the line.

Until the Day Court announced itself.

It came with little warning.

You were halfway through a sentence during a quiet meeting when the sensation hit.

And then the doors opened.

A courtier rushed in—breathless, pale, eyes wide—and informed you, gently, carefully, that the High Lord of the Day Court had just arrived.

An invitation, apparently, that Thesan had extended months ago.

Right after the war.

Right before he had known you were still alive.

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

“Do you wanna jump over the balcony and hide in the trees?” Jurian offered, looking entirely too relaxed in his seat. One arm slung over the back of the chair, boots scuffed on polished marble, like this was any other morning meeting.

“She’s been all over the palace,” Thesan said mildly, not even glancing up from the document in front of him. “Helion will catch her scent before he even makes it into this room.”

You exhaled through your nose, hands tightening in your lap.

You didn’t respond at first—just stared at the doorway like it might swallow you whole if you blinked too slowly.

Helion.

“I don’t suppose,” you said carefully, “there’s a protocol for telling a High Lord he’s very much not welcome anymore?”

Thesan didn’t so much as flinch. “If there was, you’d be the one to invent it.” His attention drifted to Estella.

The little fae was still lying on the ground beside your chair, flipping through a picture book like nothing in the world had changed. Several more were stacked beside her, a little nest of pages and ink. She hummed quietly to herself, small feet swinging in the air, her wings twitching in time with some rhythm only she heard.

“You said that Helion already suspected.” You sighed, letting your head hit the back of the chair. “Do you think we can swear him to secrecy?” 

He didn’t even bother to answer with words. Just looked at you.

That ‘are-you-seriously-asking-me-that-knowing-how-close-Helion-and-Rhysand-are’ look that only the High Lord of Dawn could deliver without uttering a single syllable.

You groaned. “Right. Worth a try.”

He raised a single, elegant brow.

“Welp,” you exhaled, throwing your hands up in mock defeat. “We improvise, I guess. I’m never coming back here again.”

It was a joke, of course.

Mostly.

“I will send a formal apology to you and Queen Vassa for this,” Thesan said quietly, voice laced with an uncharacteristic thread of guilt. He waved his hand, and a chair appeared near the meeting table—neat, empty, unnecessary. It felt ceremonial. A gesture meant to fill the space, to acknowledge the storm already pressing at the gates of the room.

The doors opened before anyone could say another word.

The High Lord of the Day Court entered not like sunlight but like the memory of it, something golden and nostalgic. He looked unchanged, still resplendent in every way—shoulders squared, robes impeccable, his golden-brown skin aglow. But his eyes… those warm, clever eyes that so often danced with mischief… they were searching. Alert. Quietly, desperately hunting for something.

They found you almost immediately.

You stood before your body could decide otherwise. Not because it was expected—but because it was needed. You didn’t want to be looked down upon, didn’t want to shrink beneath what he already knew—what he had perhaps feared to hope. You smoothed your gown, and lifted your chin.

He stopped a few paces inside the room, gaze locked to yours like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“It is highly inappropriate, High Lord Helion,” you said, your voice formal, firm, and mercilessly even, “to arrive unannounced. Even with a standing invitation. A letter of notice is still customary, especially when stepping into a court that is not your own.”

Helion blinked once.

And then… he laughed. Quietly. Not in amusement, but in disbelief. In something hoarse and soft and aching at the edges. His lips curved into a shape that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t far from it either. “You’re still fond of lecturing me, I see.”

“And you’re still fond of theatrics,” you replied tightly. “Some things never change.”

You expected a smirk, a tease. But instead, his face shifted.

The expression that settled over him wasn’t one you’d seen often. His usually bright features dimmed into something softer. Gentler. Older. He stepped forward once, twice—then stopped again, eyes not leaving yours, like looking away might break whatever fragile thing had knit itself between this moment and the past.

And then his voice dropped. Barely a whisper. As if it might crack.

“Hello, my friend. It’s been too long.”

Just that.

A handful of words.

And they ruined you.

Not the title. Not your name. Not the accusation or question you’d been bracing for.

But that.

You didn’t remember moving—only that his arms were around you and yours around him, the hug not formal or proper or anything befitting your respective roles. 

He held you like he hadn’t realized how much he needed to. Like believing you were dead had been dragging at him this entire time. Not knowing for sure.

You pulled back just as you felt the hand curl into your dress, her body hidden mostly behind you. Helion looked down, pausing for a long moment as Estella peaked out and blinked at him. 

“And who might this fair lady be?” The High Lord of Day asked, kneeling down to the little Fae’s level. Estella fully stepped out from behind you and to your surprise did that small curtsy, so similar to how you had done when welcoming Thesan. 

You hadn’t known she’d been watching the exchange. 

“Lady Estella of Scythia,” She said, trying her hardest to say it like a proper lady, but her words wobble when saying Scythia. 

Helion’s lips twitched at the edges, as if caught between awe and delight. He placed a hand to his heart and bowed his head, all the exaggerated elegance of a court-trained male but softened by something real—something warmer, deeper. “An honor, Lady Estella of Scythia.”

Estella beamed at the praise, wings twitching behind her, and glanced back at you, clearly seeking your approval. You gave her a gentle nod, hand resting on her shoulder. She turned back to Helion, clearly pleased with herself, and added in a whisper-loud voice, “You talk like Mama.”

That earned a real smile from the High Lord, one that lit his face the way the sun lit stained glass—brilliant and a little too clear. “I shall take that as the highest compliment.” 

Helion’s smile lingered just a breath too long as he straightened again. His gaze flicked between you and the child still beaming up at him, and something in that golden gaze shifted. Like gears beginning to turn. Like truths beginning to fit together. It was subtle, but you saw it—felt it. A High Lord’s eyes. A scholar’s eyes. And worse, a man who had already suspected.

“She really is remarkable,” he said quietly, a kind of fondness threading through the words. Then his voice dropped lower, as if the words themselves held weight too dangerous to speak aloud. “Does Rhysand—?”

“Don’t.” The word left your mouth like a blade, soft but cutting. It silenced him faster than a scream would’ve.

Helion blinked, brows lifting in slow, silent surprise.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t shift, didn’t blink. “She is supposed to be a secret that is quickly not becoming one anymore,” you said, firmer now, anchoring the words with all the years of silence and sacrifice behind them. “She will not be taken from me unless she willingly wants to go.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. The room seemed to still, the golden light of the windows dimming slightly as if the sun itself were listening in. Then, finally—gently, and without judgment—he murmured, “… I understand what you’re trying to do. I do. But it won’t matter.” His voice dropped further, gaze sweeping to Estella and lingering there. “Anyone who truly sees her will know. She’s not just his daughter. She is him. In miniature.”

Estella’s head tilted at the unfamiliar tone, her little brow furrowing. “In miniature?” she asked, repeating the odd phrase with an attempt at understanding. She looked from Helion to you, trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

You were already opening your mouth to laugh it off, to distract, to change the subject—something—but she was staring at Helion now, and then at you. The light in her eyes dimmed just slightly, her wings curling in against her back.

“Wait,” Estella said, her voice going small. Too small. “If people know I’m Papa’s… does that mean they’ll take me away?” Her eyes darted between your face and Helion’s, searching for something—reassurance, logic, anything to undo the twist she’d already given herself.

“No,” you said quickly, but she kept going, breath picking up.

“Am I going to have to go away again?” she asked, voice cracking. Her little hands clenched at her sides, her entire body going stiff. “Mama—Mama, no—I don’t wanna go!”

You lunged forward without thinking, arms outstretched, a thousand words forming and dying before they could leave your lips. “Estella, no one is—”

But the fear had already bloomed. Not tantrum fear, not child’s play distress. It was deep. Instinctual. A tremor of power that shivered through the air, bright like a star cracking open.

You tasted it first—before the magic even sparked. That flash of raw, untrained energy, the kind that didn’t obey rules or boundaries or reason. You’d only felt it once before, during her birth. You hadn’t even known she could—

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

A breath, a heartbeat, a blink—and the space where your daughter had stood was empty. The warmth of her presence snatched away by something wild and uncontrolled. There was no dramatic display, no swirl of wind or burst of light. Just... absence. Deafening, shattering absence.

You staggered, your breath hitching, hand outstretched like you could claw the moment back. “No,” you whispered, but it didn’t stop the way your knees buckled, the way your magic surged to the surface, frantic and furious and unthinking.

Jurian shouted your name.

Thesan was already moving, barking for guards, for search wards, for any trace of where she might have gone.

And just like that, the whole of the Dawn Court exploded into chaos.

[amiaclone]

Oh hello! I love the way you write, could you write something like the reader is pregnant by player 333 and he protects her no matter what in the games,ty ✨️

YES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR PLAYER 333

Soo since this is basically just Junhee I’m gonna add a bit more to the plot if you don’t mind!

You were in the first games like Gi hun you didn’t win although you escaped after you lost at one of the games (let’s say marbles) was living with Gi hun for a good while then moved out etc met Lee Myung gi (player 333) got you pregnant did the scam etc anyways you wanted to help Gi hun but not get involved but Front man kidnapped you anyways for fun and well….here you are

Since I like Junhee I don’t wanna erase her so she’s like a spy or sm 😔 a whole different plot but interesting still

Anyways here it is!

Lee Myung Gi x Fem! Reader

You sighed in annoyance as your ex came to bother you about if you were okay or needed anything the usual

You didn’t even wanna be here but be with him? No way!

You won’t lie you *did* need help in a place like this but with him? No way!

“Do you need my extra milk? A place like this isn’t fit for someone like you! Bla bla bla” that’s all he ever said

Myung gi and you used to be one of those lovey dovey couples who you’d think would get married or something…..it could of happened if he didn’t end up with you losing your money and ghosting you

For the money? Meh you didn’t care as Gi hun managed to pay off your debts but ghosting? That was cold you called almost everyday and received little knowledge……yeah he deserves what’s coming to him

Currently it was after red light green light and he was bothering you about a new thing!

“You played these games before and never told me?”

You rolled your eyes “Yeah cause telling someone I was kidnapped and forced to play children games and could die is so believable”

He shook his head “Yeah well things like this aren’t just things you can forget about! How did you leave why did you go back-“

You turned to him rather harshly “Not that it concerns you but I don’t wanna be here just as much as anyone else” you sighed staring at your stomach for a bit your child could die here…..you could die here was it really worth it?

He noticed and stood firm “Well I’ll protect you” you gave him a small glare

“How am I supposed to know I can trust you?”

He shook his head “Don’t be stubborn y/n in your condition if the majority votes to stay….your chances are very slim”

You sighed looking up at the roof “Fine. But don’t think this means I have forgotten anything”

He sighed smiling that you’d agree maybe this is a chance to finally make things up with you?

Cue to the six legged pentathlon

You teamed with Gi hun followed by your ex who’s been following you around the whole time like a lost puppy except the puppy is preventing anything from even looking at or touching said person aka you

So far you agreed to do Jegi as it seemed the easiest

“Don’t you think it’d be dangerous-“

“I’m doing it”

Luckily we barely lived even though In ho/Player 001 nearly screwed it over for us and you all headed out

Once again Myung Gi stood by your side you even cheered with him for passing it he smiled

Oh wait your still supposed to be mad at him you quickly erased that smile with a frown

“Well thanks for protecting me i suppose you’ve been nice…”

“Nice enough for me to finally show you I’m sorry?”

“No”

He mentally groaned he knew he messed up but he really did miss you ghosting you was a big regret but he didn’t want you getting involved because people were trying to kill him!

Well atleast you’re nice enough to try tolerating that’s a start…

Cue to mingle

You haven’t seen Myung for almost the whole game and to be honest you were getting kinda worried you were with Gi hun and the team you formed back in six legged pentathlon

The new number was seven you grabbed onto Junhee a kind girl who told you in secret she was a spy for the government (Cool plot might use it for an oc) who you’ve bonded with the whole time you were here

You ran but someone fell you think it was Young Mi? Anyways just as the door was about to close *He* walked in

Ah typical Myung gi smiled staring at everyone specifically you as he expected to be seen as a hero

Why were you kinda relieved to see him?

Which you agreed he did technically save your lifes you empathised heavily with Hyun Ju banging on the door crying for Young Mi it gave you flashbacks of the first games you didn’t lose anyone typically close you can recall but still a sad time..

Anyways Hyun Ju blamed Myung gi while Myung gi defended himself and begged any of us to agree with him which you did

“I’m sorry about Young mi Hyun Ju but he’s got a point we all would have died”

Myung gi seemed relieved and when you were all walking out walked up to you “Thank you for defending me does this mean we can talk? Oh! Watch your step”

He points at the wall when you were a good distance from it you rolled your eyes

“This doesn’t change anything I just agreed with you cause you were right”

Before he could say anything the last round started

It said 2 and he immediately grabbed you before you could even comprehend who it was luckily he found a random door barely and slammed it shut breathing heavily

“Thanks” is all you could mutter heavily breathing

He smiled

“As long as I’m here I’ll protect you”

And why did you feel comforted by that….

I loved this one smmmm we need more Myung gi fanfics! Hope you likeddd it

[crappymixtape]

because of you • epilogue

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 1k – a little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • E P I L O G U E 🎶 believer – piano version, SYML

❝ WE’VE BECOME ECHOES, BUT ECHOES ARE FADING AWAY, SO LET’S DANCE LIKE TWO SHADOWS, BURNING OUT A GLORY DAY ❞

Walking across the parking lot of Hawkins High with Steve Harrington’s hand in the back pocket of your jeans was a surreal feeling. Never in a million years did you think you’d be on speaking terms with him let alone dating him. You also didn’t think the world would end, so maybe being wrong was something to get used to.

Steve had a bag of clothes under one arm while you pulled a wagon of canned food and blankets behind you. It seemed like everyone was in need of something – shirts, coats, shoes, bread, cheese, shelter – and despite the way everyone had rallied against Eddie, they changed their tune quick after the news broke. Came together as a community to support each other through these unprecedented events.

The story came out that it had been a serial killer who’d murdered those poor kids, not Eddie, and it was all forgotten anyway the minute your little town suddenly turned into a war zone. Helicopters and tanks and soldiers, scientists and news crews from all over the nation. The ash hadn’t stopped falling since the Creel House and in the daylight the damage was so much worse than any of you had expected.

When Steve drove you home, it just simply wasn’t there. Swallowed up in one of four deep gashes splitting the earth at the seams. Your parents had survived, came back to see if maybe you’d go home to find them and tried to salvage whatever they could.

They’d sought shelter with your aunt on the other side of town, but Steve insisted you stay with him. Told you you’d have your own room and space and whatever you needed and when you expected a no, your parents surprised you with a yes, with relief. It was tight enough over at your aunt’s as it was and maybe it was better that way. With a friend – friend.

“Donations?” a volunteer asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“What?” you started, but Steve held up his bag.

“Yeah, yeah. Clothes, food, some blankets.”

“Great, that’s perfect. Clothes are on the tables at the far end of the cafeteria, food is being collected here in the quad and blankets go to the library,” the volunteer said and Steve thanked her with a small smile.

Even though you were bringing things to donate, it was a weird feeling knowing you’d likely be looking for things for you too. You wondered about everyone else. Wondered if they had lost everything too and hoped they hadn’t. Hoped they were all safe. The Wheelers, the Sinclairs, Max and Robin and Eddie–

“Holy shit–no way! Sweetheart, who’s that in your back pocket??”

As if summoned by your very thoughts, Eddie materialized at the bottom of the parking lot turning your cheeks cherry red, Steve’s hand still tucked into your jeans.

He gave Eddie a big grin and dipped down to press a kiss to your temple, “Shut up, Munson.”

“It’s Steve you idiot,” you snarked, lips tugged up in a little smile, no heat behind it and as soon as you passed the wagon off to a volunteer, your best friend was pulling you into a hug.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured into your hair, holding you tight to his chest. His voice wobbled a little and it made your throat squeeze. He’d brushed with death last night, just the same as you, and feeling him here – really here – was like a big sigh of relief.

“Wayne okay?” you asked quietly and he nodded, curls tangling with yours.

“Yeah, thank fuck,” he exhaled, finally letting you go to rub at the back of his neck. “Trailer’s totaled though.”

“My place too,” you commiserated and Steve’s grin faded as his realized just how much had been at stake outside of the party, outside of Vecna.

“Listen,” he started, clearing his throat, “My parents checked in this morning to make sure I was alright, but aren’t coming home anytime soon. If you need a place to stay there’s plenty of room…” Steve jammed his hands in his pockets, unsure if he’d crossed a line or was breaking some unsaid rule, but Eddie grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into a hug too.

“Thanks, man! God, that’d be great. Promise Wayne and I aren’t messy, we’ll clean up and help with dinner and the trash and–”

“Eddie,” Steve laughed, giving the other boy’s shoulder a squeeze, “It’s okay, I’m sure you’re fine.”

You were positive your heart was going to burst, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last 24 hours – mostly because of these two idiots – and both boys noticed at the same moment.

Eddie frowned, worried, “Hey, hey, what’s up?”

“Oh–shit–you okay, Princess?” Steve asked, his words blending together with Eddie’s.

“No, I’m okay–” you sniffled, pressing your palms to your eyes, half-laughing at how stupid you felt, “–you two just suck.”

Both boys laughed, we love you, and Steve pulled you under his arm, “Hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with us.” He shot Eddie a look and the other boy grinned.

“Yep. Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie gave you one of his too-charming winks, “can’t get out of this one.”

You huffed a laugh and buried your face into Steve’s chest. Warm like summer and the sun, like safe and home, and when you pulled away to push up onto your toes and catch his lips between yours a voice echoed across the quad.

“OH MY GOD–WHAT?? STEVE, WHAT THE HELL?? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU’RE DATING–”

“Oh, Christ–Robin! I’m right here, you don’t have to yell!”

[ I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF, THIS SCENE WAS SCREAMING AT ME LIKE ROBIN – YOU'RE WELCOME ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

I Wish You Knew…

Player 001 x reader✂️

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the tag list

You sat on the dull bed. Awaiting nightfall to come. You hadn’t eaten, the games made you so distraught you couldn’t bother to work up an appetite.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Young il asks you. Breaking you from your dead stare.

“I hate this place. I wanna go home” you look up at him with big, teary eyes.

“Baby girl” he said sweetly, sitting at your side. “It’s gonna be okay” he wrapped you in a hug.

“It’s not okay!” You cried loudly. “I’m stuck here. I hate it, there’s nothing here for me. I don’t even want the stupid money”

“Im here.” He says calmly. His heart took a hit, you said there was ‘nothing’ here, what was he then? Nothing? Or was he the exception? He ruled it as you were just emotionally distressed.

“Well, yeah. You. But nothing else. I miss my bed, I miss home”

“(Y/n)…” he sat pensively, what do I say? He thought. Do I tell her? What if she hates me, I’ll lose her forever… how the fuck do I make this better? Think, In Ho, THINK. He argued with his thought for too long. He sensed your emotions shift.

“Whatever” you say. “I don’t expect you to understand, you’re home anyways” his eyes widened. Did you know my secret? What do you mean “I’m home anyways” ? (Y/n) what the fuck do you know.

“(Y/n), I feel the same as you. I just don’t know what to say to make you feel better.” Young il replied. “I just don’t know -“

“You don’t know what to say. Yeah, I know. Same as every boyfriend I’ve had before” you roll your eyes gingerly as you lay back. Your stomach growling loudly.

“Pretty girl, have you eaten at all?”

“No. I’m not hungry” you turn away from him. “I just want to go home” he sighs, standing up and walking into the food line. He awaited his turn, peeking over his shoulder to check on you. He felt miserable… maybe getting you out was a good idea… you’re not eating, who knows if you’re really sleeping.

“Hey, can I get two of each, please? One of the other players… she isn’t strong enough to stand on her own and she needs to eat.” Young il spoke in a low voice. The masked men bowed quickly and handed him 2 of each item.

When Young il returned you were still in the same position he left you in. Your eyes puffy and red. He looked sadly upon you. Oh (y/n), I wish you knew… he thought to himself. I wish you knew the things I really did.

“Here baby” he passed you water. “You need to drink something, you need strength for the next game” you pushed his hand away.

“I don’t want it.” His shoulders tensed in annoyance.

“If you don’t sit up and drink something water, right this minute, I swear I’m gonna IV your ass and MAKE you drink water” he said sternly. You sat up. Your eyes bloodshot. You took the bottle from his hand, squinting your eyes at him as you did so.

God definitely sent you down as punishment. You were his girl, but you were a pain in his ass since he took you in. A lonely girl, who didn’t have a team. The 6 legged race was stressful, though you saved them time with your amazing gong gi skills as Dae Ho took on Ddajki.

“Now take a bite” he held out a spoon for you. You turned your head. “(Y/n), stop acting like a decrepit child and eat. You will die if you have no strength” he said pressingly.

“Fine.” You snatched the contain out of his hand. Scarfing down your food like you were never going to see it again. You glared at him as you handed the empty tin back to him. “I’m laying down now”

“(Y/n)” Young il said gently. He laid down next to you, his food forgotten on the floor. He held you in his arms. Stroking your hair gently. “I love you” he said.

“I love you too” you sighed gingerly.

Time skip: the middle of the night

“(Y/n)” young il shook you. “(Y/n), wake up”

“Hm- what?” You say tiredly rubbing your eyes.

“Come on, you’re going home.” He said. You stood up and followed as he led you out of the door. “Listen, you’re gonna go home and you’re gonna wait for me” Young il told you.

“How will you find me?” You ask as a pink man grabbed you.

“I will, I promise” young il said as you were being taken away.

“Wait! Young il!” You shouted frantically. “I said “fucking wait”” you punched the guard, forcing him to let you go. You ran to Young il. Jumping into his arms. You kissed him passionately, a tear falling from your eye. “You better get out of here alive.”

“I will. I promise you, I’ll meet you on the outside.” He said, kissing you back. Laying kisses all over your face.

“Meet me at 111 Dokseodang-ro Yongsan-gu, Seoul 04419.” You tell him. “Apartment 206”

“111 Dokseodang-ro Yongsan-gu Seoul 04419. Apartment 206” he repeated. “Got it. I’ll see you in a week at most” he kissed you one final time before letting you go. He smacked your ass as you turned to walk away.

“I love you” you shouted to him from down the hall.

“I love you more (y/n)” he shouted back. “I love you more than anything” he said quietly watching you turn the corner.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[misskingshit]

I hate u (but not really)

summary: She’s impulsive. He’s impossible. Teamed up on missions and constantly at each other’s throats, they’d rather fight than cooperate.

note: Im telling u, this is gonna be a series, and it’s gonna be THE BEST, ok maybe not but still kinda good. (plus, i had to edit this in my phone so if titles or shit like that are not aligned or well situated it’s bc I cannot make it any better on my phone, sorry!).xoxo

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV

We’re Actually Doing This, Huh? (chapter IV)

The Teasing Begins (and Never Ends)

Back at the Tower, the second you walked through the doors, you swore every Avenger in sight turned into a middle-school gossip.

Natasha, ever the subtle one, raised a single eyebrow as she passed you in the hallway, her smirk saying more than her words ever could. Sam didn’t even try to hide his amusement, giving you a slow, exaggerated clap as you walked by. And Tony—well, Tony handed Bucky a "Welcome to the Chaos" gift basket, complete with wine, a fire extinguisher, and a guide titled “Dating for Brooding Idiots.”

Even Vision, ever the logician, tilted his head, his tone matter-of-fact. “Statistically speaking, this development was overdue.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead in a silent plea for mercy.

Bucky muttered under his breath, “Should’ve stayed in Monaco.”

But the teasing wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was how everything had changed.

Now, when he stood beside you in the kitchen, brushing your hand as he passed, it made your heart do that annoying flutter thing you’d sworn you’d never have. When he sat next to you on the couch, thigh pressed to yours, the space between you was no longer filled with awkward tension. It was... grounding. Comfortable. New. Scary.

You both kind of sucked at being "a couple." Neither of you were great with feelings, open affection, or labels. But you were trying. Together. And, surprisingly, it was working. It helped that your fighting had decreased by, like, 12%. Which, for the two of you, was practically a hallmark of marital bliss.

“Okay, don’t make this weird,” you said as you stepped into the elevator, trying to steel yourself. “It’s just dinner.”

“You say that like you’re not wearing lipstick for the first time in six months,” Bucky shot back, his eyes scanning you like he was trying to figure out whether you were nervous or just ridiculous.

You flipped him off with a grin, rolling your eyes. “Shut up and push the rooftop button.”

It wasn’t a real restaurant, technically. But Tony had given you private access to the rooftop terrace, stringing up lights and setting a table like it was something out of a cheesy rom-com.

You almost turned around the second you saw it.

Bucky stared, his voice thick with surprise. “Wow.”

“What?” you asked, voice light but heart skipping a beat.

“You’re actually blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

A beat passed. Then, with a sly smile, you countered, “Are you nervous?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked up behind your chair, pulling it out for you like some old-school gentleman, his hands a little unsteady as he poured the wine.

The conversation started off awkward—stilted, like you’d both forgotten how to speak when you weren’t arguing or bickering. But then something shifted.

You found yourself telling him about the time you tried to cook for the team and nearly blew up the kitchen. He laughed, shaking his head at your disaster. Then, in a voice tinged with embarrassment, he told you about Sam forcing him into a yoga class and pulling his hamstring trying to do downward dog.

You laughed. He smiled.

And just like that, the tension melted away, leaving something much softer, much more... real.

By the time dessert arrived—Tony having sent up cheesecake via the dumbwaiter, like some sassy butler—you were both relaxed, a little more at ease.

Then, without a word, Bucky reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, voice low, rough like he was still figuring out how to speak the truth.

“Neither am I,” you said, squeezing his hand. “But I like trying with you.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, the simple gesture sending a warmth spreading through you. “You still think I’m too old and bitter?”

You smirked, the playful spark returning to your eyes. “Absolutely. But I’ve decided I like that about you.”

His smile softened, genuine and a little shy, and for a moment, you could see the vulnerability in him that he didn’t let anyone else see.

Then, without any warning, he stood up, moved around the table, and leaned down, his face only inches from yours.

And he kissed you.

Not because anyone was watching.

Not because it was part of some mission.

But because he wanted to.

And because, for once, you wanted to, too.

The Cute Ending They (Secretly) Deserve

Weeks later, you found yourselves curled up on the Tower couch under a blanket. A movie played in the background. No one was watching it.

Bucky had his arm around you. Your head rested against his chest. For once, there was no chaos. No arguing. Just peace.

Natasha walked by, paused, and smirked.

“Domestic Barnes is a weird look,” she said.

Bucky didn’t even open his eyes. “Go away.”

You whispered, “You know we’re going to be the Tower’s favorite gossip topic for months.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“Still worth it?”

He turned his head and kissed your temple. “Completely.”

You smiled, eyes closing.

In all your chaos, your bickering, your fire and sparks and fake kisses turned real—you found something solid.

Not perfect.

Not easy.

But real.

And for once, that was more than enough.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i keep recalling things we never did ; why are you eating ramen and burnt cheesecake in a café with him? what if people think that you’re on a date?

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The morning air was cool as you stepped into the classroom, your heart heavy with anxiety. The exhaustion from the past week clung to you, but there was also a small flicker of gratitude in your chest. Tsukishima had been there for you all night, helping you cram as much information as possible. He had even insisted on dropping you off at class, carrying your bag and other belongings because your hand still hurt from the IV needle. He made sure you were settled in your seat before leaving without a word, a gesture that left you both touched and a bit bewildered. You promised yourself you would find a way to thank him properly after this exam, maybe by treating him to something nice or doing whatever he wanted.

As the exam began, your worries resurfaced. Despite Tsukishima’s help, you still felt unprepared. Some of the questions seemed foreign, and you found yourself leaving several blank as the clock ticked down. By the time it was over, a sense of dread had settled in your stomach. You could barely remember walking out of the classroom, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of failure. All you wanted was to get back to your dorm and rest, but the nagging uncertainty about the answers kept you flipping through your book as you walked.

“Loosen up, the exam is over,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned to see Tsukishima standing there, a slight grin playing on his lips as he approached. There was a teasing glint in his eyes as he reached out to close your book gently. “Your body has been telling you to stop looking at your books since yesterday when you collapsed at the infirmary, and here you are still studying even after the exam is over.”

His words, though spoken with his usual dry tone, held a touch of concern beneath the surface. You wanted to tell him how much you feared you had failed, but the thought of burdening him further made you bite your tongue. Instead, you pushed your emotions aside and mustered a warm smile. “How was your exam?” you asked, trying to shift the focus away from yourself.

“Good, think I did pretty well,” he answered, his confidence evident as he began walking beside you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I want to treat you to something since you took care of me yesterday,” you said, your voice sincere.

He frowned slightly, his expression questioning.

“It’d be impolite of me not to return your kindness,” you replied, hoping he understood how much his help had meant to you.

“Kindness?” he chuckled, a sound that was almost amused. “I told you the doctor asked me to help. I was just doing her a favor.”

“Yeah, but still—” you began, feeling a bit flustered by his nonchalant attitude.

He cut you off with a shrug, a small smirk on his lips. “Okay, if you insist. Let’s get some ramen and burnt cheesecake at the café downtown.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his choice, surprised that someone like Tsukishima would have such a specific dessert preference. But you agreed, the thought of resting at your dorm forgotten as the prospect of spending more time with him took over.

The café was as cozy and inviting as you remembered, a favorite spot for university students to unwind. The space was filled with warm lighting and soft music, creating a homey atmosphere that made it easy to relax. Around you, couples occupied most of the tables, enjoying quiet moments together, sharing laughs, and indulging in sweet treats. You couldn’t help but notice how many of them were on dates, their conversations and gestures filled with affection.

As you waited for your order, Tsukishima excused himself to the restroom. Left alone, you glanced around the room, taking in the sight of other students. It struck you suddenly that, from an outsider’s perspective, you and Tsukishima might look like just another couple on a date. The thought sent a brief flutter through your chest, but you quickly shook it off, not wanting to read too much into it. After all, this was just a simple thank-you meal—nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you waited for him to return.

Two bowl of ramen was steaming, the broth rich and savory, and two slice of burnt cheesecake you ordered sat beside it, looking almost too beautiful to eat. You both settled into a relaxed rhythm, exchanging conversation that flowed more easily than you expected.

“This place is nice,” you commented, glancing around at the cozy interior. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, I usually come here with Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima replied, taking a casual sip of his tea. “It’s quiet enough, not too crowded. Perfect for avoiding people.”

You chuckled, finding his usual avoidance of crowds almost endearing. “Sounds like you,” you teased lightly. “So, do you always order the burnt cheesecake?”

Tsukishima smirked, a small curve of his lips that was more subtle than full-on amusement. “Only if I’m in the mood,” he said, his eyes glancing at you from beneath his blonde bangs. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d enjoy this kind of place.”

“I guess I’m full of surprises,” you said with a grin. “But honestly, I’ve been too busy with exams to explore much.”

“Typical freshman,” he muttered, but there was no malice in his tone, only the familiar teasing you were starting to appreciate. “How are you holding up with your classes?”

You sighed, feeling a bit more at ease talking to him than you would have expected a few days ago. “Barely. This semester has been a lot tougher than I imagined. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even cut out for biochemistry.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have made it this far.”

You blinked at his straightforward reply, a warmth blooming in your chest at his unexpected reassurance. “I guess,” you murmured, your voice softer.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself noticing the small details about him, details you hadn’t paid attention to before. The soft freckles scattered across his face, faint but noticeable when the café’s warm light hit him just right. The way his lips quirked into a half-smile when you said something he found mildly amusing. How his eyes, sharp and intelligent, would flicker toward you, only to quickly look away as if he didn’t want to be caught staring.

There was a moment when he laughed—a deep, rich sound that made your heart skip. His nose scrunched slightly, just enough to soften his usual stoic expression, and you realized you liked seeing him like this, more relaxed, more open.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was a side of Tsukishima that few people got to see, a version of him reserved for moments like these, where the world outside the café didn’t matter.

You smiled, feeling a comfortable silence settle between you, the earlier tension from your exam worries fading into the background. It felt nice, this moment of connection between you two, and for a while, you let yourself forget the pressures of university life.

But just as you were settling into the calm, your phone suddenly buzzed on the table. The sound broke the quiet bubble you’d been in, and you glanced down to see the reminder flashing on the screen—Take your ginger tonic and vitamins.

You quickly snoozed the alarm, feeling a slight flush rise to your cheeks, but it was too late. Tsukishima had already stolen a glance at your phone, his lips quirking up into an amused smirk.

“So, you like ginseng tonic?” he asked, his tone teasing as he raised an eyebrow at you.

You nearly choked on your food, shaking your head furiously. “No—my mom makes me,” you replied, a bit more defensively than you intended.

Tsukishima seemed taken aback by your quick response, but the surprise quickly faded into another teasing comment. “Seems like your mom really knows how to take care of you,” he said, his voice laced with a playful edge.

You tried to laugh it off, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “She says I’m too clueless to take care of myself, so she has to intervene,” you joked, though there was an undeniable bitterness beneath your words. You hadn’t meant to let it slip, but Tsukishima’s perceptive gaze caught it instantly. His teasing demeanor softened slightly, but he didn’t press further, sensing that there was more to the story.

Instead, he reached across the table, his hand moving with surprising gentleness. Before you could react, his thumb brushed against the corner of your lips, wiping away a small spot of broth you hadn’t noticed. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through you, making you freeze as your heart suddenly sped up.

The world seemed to slow down for a moment, and you could feel the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Tsukishima’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a softness that made your breath hitch. The café around you faded into the background, and all you could focus on was the tenderness in his gesture, the way his eyes flickered with something deeper than just casual concern.

Neither of you spoke, the silence hanging in the air like a delicate thread. You could feel your cheeks growing warm under his gaze, your thoughts a jumble of confusion and a budding realization that perhaps, just maybe, there was something more between you two than just a reluctant mentor-student relationship.

Finally, Tsukishima broke the tension with a small, almost imperceptible smile, his hand retracting back to his side. “You missed a spot,” he said lightly, but his voice had a gentleness to it that made your heart flutter.

You managed a weak laugh, trying to shake off the overwhelming emotions that threatened to spill over. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The moment passed, but the memory of it lingered, etched into your mind like a secret you weren’t quite ready to share, not even with yourself.

As you both continued to eat, the earlier playful banter faded into a more comfortable silence. Yet, the unspoken understanding between you two grew, and with it, a warmth that neither of you could deny, even if you didn’t fully understand it yet.

The café had grown quieter as the afternoon wore on, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes providing a comforting background to your shared meal. You and Tsukishima had settled into a relaxed conversation, the earlier tension gradually melting away as you discussed everything from university life to random observations about the people around you.

He had just finished the last bite of his burnt cheesecake, and you were savoring the final spoonfuls of your ramen, the warmth of the broth lingering in your chest. You felt surprisingly content, more at ease than you had in weeks, thanks in no small part to Tsukishima’s presence.

As you set down your spoon, you reached for your bag, ready to pay for the meal as you had promised. But before you could pull out your wallet, you caught the attention of the waiter, gesturing for the bill.

The waiter approached with a polite smile, holding a small leather-bound folder. “Your bill has already been taken care of,” he said, handing the receipt to Tsukishima instead.

You blinked in surprise, your eyes darting between Tsukishima and the waiter. “Wait, what? No, I was supposed to pay—”

Tsukishima looked at you with a calm, unbothered expression, his hand already tucking the receipt into his pocket. “I got it,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“But… why? I said I’d treat you. You took care of me, remember?” You couldn’t hide the confusion in your voice, your brows furrowed in disbelief.

He leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “What kind of man do you think I am, letting a woman pay for the lunch I chose?”

His tone was light, but the weight of his words made your heart skip a beat. There was something undeniably charming in the way he said it, his usual teasing edge softened with a hint of genuine chivalry that caught you off guard.

“But—” you started, but he interrupted, holding up a hand.

“You can save your arguments for next time,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “Consider this a thank you—for putting up with my attitude this past semester.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his unexpected admission, your protest fading into a soft smile. “You’re not that bad,” you said quietly, though your heart was racing a little. “I mean, you did help me a lot.”

Tsukishima’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something in his gaze that made your breath catch—a fleeting softness, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection that had been growing between you. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual guarded expression, but the memory of it lingered, making your chest tighten with a mix of emotions you weren’t ready to untangle.

“I’m serious, though,” you continued, trying to regain some composure. “Next time, it’s on me.”

He raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through you at the thought of a next time. The idea that there could be more moments like this, more shared meals and conversations, filled you with a quiet sense of anticipation.

As you both stood up to leave, Tsukishima casually picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice steady and unhurried.

You followed him out of the café, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement as you walked side by side. The day had taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for this moment—one that felt like the beginning of something you couldn’t quite name.

And as you walked together, the light breeze ruffling your hair, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just the end of a shared meal, but is it just you hoping for more?

taglist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Love, Eternal // [Part IV]

Pairing | Phantom x Sister!Reader

Word count | 1.3k

⚠️ Warnings | Reader uses she/her pronouns, (y/n) is used once. There is a ritual scene. TW for murder ghouls, blood, injuries, assault, violence, and death.

Plot Summary: Today was Phantom's summoning day, a special occasion akin to a birthday. Eager to surprise him with a homemade cake, you realize you're missing ingredients and head into town. On the way back, you encounter trouble with some members of the Catholic church that changes the course of your life in the Ministry - and with Phantom - forever.

A/N: I TOLD YOU IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING! This is the last part! Thank you so much for reading this far, I hope it was an enjoyable read. Much love 🖤 xo Emery

[Prev]

Phantom returned a short while later, Swiss and Dew silently trailing him. The poor ghoul was absolutely overcome with grief. Once he found you in the driveway, he could immediately smell the putrid odour of the men who did this to you, their scents still fresh on your beaten body.

When he left the Ministry he had no thoughts but revenge. It was easy for him to pick up on their scent once he was outside, his abilities and senses heightened in his manic state. 

Swiss and Dew knew better than to interrupt a ghoul on a warpath, so they kept their distance, allowing Phantom to do what needed to be done. Sometimes his packmates had wondered how he ever survived in the pit, his trademark traits of being approachable and kind didn’t fly down there.

However, as his fangs elongated and his claws unglamoured, Phantom was quickly proving to all that he was a ghoul from hell after all; mindlessly pulling the first unfortunate soul apart with ease, Swiss and Dew watched proudly as the young ghoul forced the vile human to choke on his internal organs.

Phantom had begun his hunt.

Walking slowly back to the Abbey, Phantom began to come back to earth. His mind was riddled with thoughts of what he could have done differently; maybe he shouldn’t have skipped so many lessons with Aether to spend time with you, maybe he should’ve asked Omega more questions about what his Quintessence could do before he was sent away.

Lost in his thoughts, he began to weep. The thought of losing you and ultimately failing his older brothers, the thought of realizing you were his mate and never getting the chance to tell you. It was almost too much for Phantom to endure.

The blood smearing across his face as he wiped away his tears only made him cry harder. He was covered in as much blood as you were, the only difference being none of it was his. What’s done was done. He was a murderer now. No better than the vermin he just effortlessly dispatched. Phantom knew they would get a special greeting in hell, and that fact brought him a fleeting sense of relief.

He needed to see you one last time. He made his way back up to the main ritual room where he knew Copia would still be with you, but he never could’ve imagined what would be waiting for him once he got there. Rain and Mountain were already inside, the arrangements long forgotten. Dew and Swiss made their appearances known as they stepped behind the young ghoul who had been stopped in the doorway.

“I need to see her, Papa. Please. Just once.”

Copia silently signalled Dew and Swiss closer. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Excuse me?” The fury in Phantom’s eyes quickly returned.

Copia knew better than to get in the way of an angry ghoul, learning his lesson as a child growing up with Alpha, but he stood fast. “Phantom, there’s something you need to know–“

However, the young Quint was hearing none of it as he pushed past Copia and wiggled out of his brothers' grasp.

What he found as he entered further into the room was exactly what he expected: you. What he didn’t expect to see was you… alive? This must have been a dream. He shut his blood stained eyes once, and then twice. You were right in front of him, now sitting between Rain and Mountain in the same place he watched you die - where he felt you die.

What he felt now was something familiar, yet completely new.

Rain had already washed the blood off your face and found you one of the ghoulette’s spare outfits while Mountain had tied up your hair in a ghoulish fashion. Phantom’s brain couldn't compute what he was seeing as he moved cautiously toward where you sat on the ground, still too weak to stand.

Your skin had turned to a violet grey, similar to Phantom’s. Your nails had grown into beautiful claws, and fangs extended where your canines used to be. Your hair turned to a dark blue that almost matched Rain’s, with lighter patches of skin decorating your hairline and cheeks like scales. Phantom noticed your ears were sharp and pointed like Dew's, with the skin at the tip a dark red.

Phantom fell to his knees in front of you, speechless and in awe.

“How–” 

It was like he was looking at an angel gifted from hell. You were one of them now. His beautiful ghuleh, with pieces of all the brothers who helped save you.

When you looked up at Phantom from your place between the two ghouls (who were now your brothers too), Phantom couldn’t contain his tears any longer. Though these were not the tears of sadness and grief from before, these were tears of bewilderment and relief. He didn’t notice at first, but you had the same lighter patch over your eye as he did. Your left eye was a gorgeous shade of ice blue, contrasting the darker grey of the other one. It reminded him of Papa.

“Phantom?”

You were taken aback slightly at the sight of the friendliest ghoul you knew, kneeling in front of you covered in blood from head to toe. He chuckled slightly at the lisp you had when you called his name, not used to your fangs yet. You had extra long ones too, thanks to Swiss. If he was in any other situation, Phantom would've found it incredibly hot.

“If I had known, I would’ve washed up.” He said, looking down at his bloodied attire. His brothers moved aside so Phantom could wrap you in a hug that he never wanted to leave, eager to have your new scent permanently etched onto his soul. “I’m here. I’m never leaving you again.”

The two of you sat like that for a while, your newly heightened senses almost becoming overwhelmed with 5 ghouls and Copia all in the same room. However, if you focused on Phantom, everything felt calm and quiet. You felt safe, wondering if this is how he felt every time he was with you.

You didn’t really know what happened. One minute you were struggling to breathe outside after getting ambushed, the next you had died. Rain and Mountain gave you the Coles notes version of what happened when you awoke. None of which you remembered. You don’t remember much of your time in the pit either. There were ghouls everywhere and it was warm, but not unbearable like you had come to fear it would be. There was one thing you did remember from your time down below though…

“Hey,” you said, as you pushed Phantom off you to look him in the eye. Normally that would’ve been impossible, but you’d worry about that weirdness later. “The devil says Happy Birthday.”

Phantom smiles wider than you have ever seen and places his forehead on yours before desperately, but lovingly, crashing his lips on yours.

“Let’s see Jesus do THAT.” Dew blurts out, completely ruining the tender moment, but not a soul in this room could care as everyone lets out a laugh.

“My dear ghuleh,” Copia says softly, approaching as Phantom helps you to your feet. “You don’t have to choose right now, but in light of your new situation, if there is perhaps a new name you feel is better suited? I can make arrangements on your behalf.”

“Eris.” You spoke as you leaned into Phantom’s touch. “Like the goddess of chaos, cause that’s exactly how this all feels.”

Copia smiled warmly, “Then welcome back to the Ministry, Eris.”

Standing behind you, Phantom cradled you protectively in his arms, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “It’s perfect.”

Copia and your new family left you to get reacquainted. You returned the affection as you twisted to hug your lover once again, relishing in the sweetest scent you had ever experienced as you began to involuntarily rub your cheek over his chest. You were starting to realize what the ghouls meant about the scent thing, Phantom’s was intoxicating and you never wanted to leave. It was like he was made just for you.

“So… I guess no cake then, huh?” Phantom snickers as he leaves soft kisses behind your ear before continuing down your neck.

You quickly pulled away from his embrace. “That was supposed to be a surprise!”

His hands interlocked and rested along the base of your spine. His amused gaze lovingly met the look of disappointment on your face before you let out a frustrated ‘ugh!’ and headbutted his chest.

“Ow!” He yelped. “Sweetheart you’ve got horns now, and apparently Dew gave you some flippin’ pointy ones too.”

“Oops.”

You looked up at Phantom sympathetically, your tail suddenly making an appearance and wrapping around his leg.

“You got my tail though,” he winked.

“My darling ghoul, you have all of me. My heart, my life, and my love, eternally.”

[Prev]

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

could you do please number 18 for the prompts you posted?

I absolutely love everything you write. I've even read a lot of your Star Wars fic and ive only actually seen a couple of the star wars movies 🤣🤣 you are just such a gifted writer!

i went a bit AWOL on this and it got away from me! i call this…jily-adjacent??? hope you don't mind, anon! x

from these prompts

“This is ridiculous.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re not enjoying this quality time as much as I am, Evans.”

Lily rolls her eyes, even though he can’t see her through the door. “You know,” she grunts, pulling the skirt up, and smoothing her top down over the hem, “most people opt to go out for a pint or something.” She appraises herself in the tall mirror, then swings open the door to the dressing room. “Just posing an alternative for the future.”

Sirius grins at her. “Don’t act like you didn’t love picking the outfit I’m likely to die in.” He motions for her to turn around and tugs at the skirt, clicking his teeth with the same disappointment he’s shown at the last several options.

She sighs and walks back over to the rack, grabbing the next choice: a midi-length black dress, with puffed sleeves that make her think of her great-grandmum.

“God, this is awful,” she says, pulling it off the hanger.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Evans,” Sirius says, taking the dress from her hands and holding it up in front of her, “you’ve removed ‘going out for a pint’ from the equation for us.” He pokes at her stomach as he turns to put the dress back up on the rack.

Lily smiles automatically at the reminder of what Sirius declared to be the ‘only good fucking news since fucking Hogwarts’ when she and James finally told him last week. She pops back behind the dressing room door, making quick work of the skirt and shirt ensemble, and pulls her own jumper and jeans back on. The jeans feel tighter today than usual, and she wonders if it’s because of the baby or if she’s just imagining things.

“Anyway,” Sirius says, from outside the dressing room, “maybe we should just try some Muggle shops. This place isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

Lily snorts as she pushes back through the doors, once again in her own clothes. “We’re going to the bloody Malfoys’,” she says, lowering her voice. “If we show up in Muggle clothes, we’ll be murdered in the entryway.”

“Excuse me,” Sirius says with a haughty sniff, flicking his hair over his shoulder, “but please don’t speak about my delightful family like that.”

The witch who offered to assist them earlier, before Sirius more or less told her to shut up and leave them alone glares at them from the desk, clearly annoyed that they’re still there and haven’t bought anything yet.

Lily turns back to watch Sirius as he pulls another dress from a nearby rack, frowning as if its existence has deeply offended him. “If the charms wear off and we end up looking like ourselves, who do you think they’re likely to kill first?” she asks.

“Still you,” he says with a regretful sigh. “It’s just such a shame you’ve committed the heinous crime of being born, Lily Potter.”

Sirius and Lily continue to scan the small shop for a dress that could work, but every time Lily finds something remotely bearable, Sirius shoots it down with a comment about the hemline being wrong for her body type or how the style is too 1977.

At Lily’s huff of frustration, Sirius shrugs. “If you just wanted someone to smile and say you look pretty, you should have brought James.”

“Yeah, because he’d love the reminder that we’re going on this mission without him.”

“I tried to get him instead of you,” Sirius reminds her. “Moody said Prongs doesn’t look as good in a dress. Something about the legs.”

“Just find me a dress, Black.”

“What shade of blond?” he asks, referring to the assortment of charms they’ve settled on for their disguises. “Platinum or more of—”

“Why does it matter?”

He affords her the same look of annoyance he’s reserved for the clothes up to this point in their outing. “It’s basic colour theory, Evans.”

She rolls her eyes, but replies, “Like a…honey colour?”

He nods and continues flicking through the hangers. “Speaking of Prongs,” he says, without looking at her—and they weren’t just speaking of him, so Lily knows whatever he’s about to say has been on his mind for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got some orders.”

“Orders,” Lily echoes, lifting an eyebrow.

He still doesn’t turn to look at her. “If things go tits up, at the Malfoys’, you’re getting the fuck out of there.”

Lily frowns. “Not with—”

“No way, Evans. You’ve—” He turns around now and leans against the rack. “If you wanted to play the hero, you should have thought about that before you got yourself knocked up, alright?”

Lily's brows knit together, and a flicker of irritation sparks in her eyes. “Don’t be so—”

“Obviously, I’m buzzing about the baby! So is Prongs. He—well, Merlin, you don’t need me to tell you. You have to live with the git. But come on, Evans, you can’t be stupid anymore.”

“Stupid anymore?” she bites out. The witch at the desk glances up from her magazine again, but Lily doesn’t care. She steps closer to Sirius, dropping her voice dangerously low. “You and my husband can both fuck off with whatever that is. And I think it’s pretty rich that you and him, of all people, have devised a plan for me to be less stupid, when you two have a patent on the personality trait.”

Sirius laughs loudly, throwing her off kilter. He pats her cheek. “Never change, Evans.”

“What is wrong with you?” she demands.

“Don’t you think,” he says, watching her with a smirk, “that maybe there’s a reason you ended up with Prongs? That you ended up with all of us, really? That maybe it’s not because you even us out and curb our rebellious tendencies, but maybe—just maybe, you’re a little reckless and impulsive, and yeah, a little stupid, too?”

She sputters. “That’s not—”

“If you weren’t,” he continues, still grinning, “my telling you—a woman carrying a literal child in her uterus—to get the hell out of dodge when curses start flying at the Malfoys’ wouldn’t be so personally offensive. In fact,” he tilts his head, “it would probably just seem like common bloody sense.”

Lily opens her mouth to continue to argue with his ridiculous line of logic, but he holds up a hand to stop her as he pulls a deep purple dress from a rack. He holds it against her and smiles widely. 

“This is the one, Evans,” he says with certainty.

She examines it sceptically. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a little—”

He scoffs loudly. “Lily,” he groans with indignation. “Please buy this bloody dress. Your wedding dress was literally horrid and if you’d just asked me, you could have avoided—”

“Oh my God, okay!”

[girlwiththeobsessions]

love sick c.f.

this book has also been published on wattpad. same username as the one on here. i update faster on there.

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

iv. deb shopping

part 1 part 2 part 3

i had no clue what was going on with conrad, why he was acting so different this summer, making me wonder what happened to the same conrad who would go on and on about infinity.

i slept in that morning, because of the fact that i stayed up way too late at that bonfire, but i eventually got up since i had work today.

when i went downstairs, dressed in a white lifeguard tank top, and red shorts, laurel, steven, and jeremiah were downstairs.

conrad was on the couch, and jere was making a 'hangover smoothie' for him, while steven was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

"do we really have to physically sit for our portraits?" jeremiah complained to laurel. "can't she just- look at a picture on her phone or something?"

"right?" i agreed with him.

jeremiah backed up a little from steven, having enough of him hovering over him. "okay, get out." jeremiah pointed at the door.

steven laughed. "what. why?"

"she needs to see you in the flash to capture you essence." laurel said, fixated on her laptop. "while you're still young, and full of hope."

"so poetic, mom." i joked, while steven and jeremiah laughed.

"her words." laurel rolled her eyes at us with a smile.

"well, conrad does not have hope, actually. he's hopeless." jeremiah insulted, causing me to laugh a little. "but! my hangover smoothie, it cures all."

"can you please just hurry up." conrad rushed him from the couch.

"just go back to bed. alright?" jeremiah shot back to him, and steven started looking over his shoulder again.

jeremiah put a hand on steven's chest. "alright, seriously, steven. get out. this is a delicate science."

"she hasn't painted you since you were little. i think it would be nice to have these portraits for when you're older." laurel added in.

"oh, no." steven joked. "when i'm older, they'd have like, holograms i can watch of myself, you know."

"or, this is why we have technology." i say. "where we have pictures? on our phones?"

jeremiah started the blender, causing conrad to jolt awake.

"just sit for your portraits." laurel told me and steven. "you don't see conrad complaining.

"he'll complain when he's actually conscious." i shot back at laurel.

jeremiah went to the couch and tapped conrad. "hey. here."

"come on, man. hurry your ass up, i can't be late to my first day of work." steven rushed jeremiah. "those little country club boomers are gonna tip me so hard they won't know what hit 'em!"

i made a disgusted look at steven. "ew. steven, i swear."

"come on, y/n." jeremiah laughed. "my boys gotta get that bread."

"stop." i shook my head at him.

i look over to see belly walking in the kitchen, and i give her a small smile.

"good morning." jeremiah says to her in an enthusiastic tone.

"belly, where have you been?" laurel asks her in a serious tone. "is that a bruise."

belly stands next to me and i run my fingers over the bruise. "mom, relax, she tripped when we were at the bonfire and landed on her face." i lied, i knew belly wouldn't wanna tell the actual story

"doesn't look that bad." conrad said from the couch, i look over at him, and made eye contact with him for a few seconds before returning my focus back to belly.

"uh, cereal?" jeremiah asked belly.

"yeah, hit me." belly softly responded.

"oh, my god!" susannah ran into the kitchen. "belly and y/n are going to be debutantes!" she hugged both of us.

belly laughed. "it's really not that big of a deal."

i'd forgotten all about the whole deb thing. it'd be hard trying to balance a summer job and being a deb, on top of that, i'd have to find a date.

"i'm sorry, like those two? my sisters, right there?" steven teased us.

"shut up, cretin!" i shot back.

"okay, this is going to be so much fun!" susannah fantasized. "just you wait. there's the tea, the auction, the- ball, of course.. i gotta write this down. we need to go shopping!"

"this sounds expensive." laurel said.

"oh, don't worry, laur, it's on me." susannah smiled. "it was my idea after all."

"y/n, are you sure you wanna do this?" laurel asked me. "it doesn't seem very you."

in truth, not really. but if it made susannah happy, it made me happy. i had to do it for her.

"it's not." conrad, once again, added his two cents from the couch.

i don't know how he went from how he used to act towards me to.. this.

"conrad, could you please be a little more supportive?" susannah told him. "now, which one of you are gonna be belly or y/n's escort to the ball."

"not me." conrad immediately responded.

"shocker." i say, in a sarcastic tone.

"i went last year." conrad finished his sentence.

"me neither. i swore off balls." jeremiah told us, causing steven to laugh. "the dances dude!" jeremiah said, laughing.

"wow, guys!" i say, sarcastically. "stop fighting over us."

"i'm not going with either of you." belly finally spoke up. "i am going to find my own date.

"it says debutantes require instruction, morals, and social etiquette." laurel read off her laptop.

"i'm going for a swim." conrad leaves through the back door, as i watched him go.

"yeah, y/n could use some etiquette." steven laughed.

"and you wonder why you don't have a girlfriend." i rolled my eyes.

all the sound drowned out as i watched conrad from the window, in his shorts, and no shirt on. i missed how things used to be.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. "you alright, y/n?" jeremiah asked me.

"yeah." i tried push aside anything feelings. "we should probably go soon."

"wait." susannah spoke up. "before you go, we have shopping to do!"

"seriously?" i asked. "i have work. i'm not going shopping."

but that wasn't true. susannah is a really convincing person, so before i knew it, i was shopping around stores with susannah, laurel, and belly, for the debutante thing.

i tried on different dresses, all colors, and different accessory's, hats, sunglasses, and bow, bags over my hands and arms.

then, i had to try on a debutante dress, i found a beautiful white long dress, i loved it, but maybe conrad and laurel were right. this whole thing was not my scene.

what have i done?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

[wish-i-were-heather]

i just got off facetime with my bsf who has me starting to believe that he might like me back🤭🤭 ok wait lemme present my evidence

EXHIBIT A so there was the whole thing yesterday about my book (alr explained it in detail) and she was freaking out over the fact that HE REMEMBERED THE FACT ABOUT MY BOOK FROM A YEAR AGO. like. we weren't even close back then. at all. my friend said she didnt even remember anything about my book. so thats interesting.

EXHIBIT B in english he sits a few seats away from me in the same row to my left. he got up and went to go talk to a friend who sits behind me- our english class is basically just a giant friendgroup so thats not weird like even im friends with the guy he was talking to but what WAS weird was that he then turns to look at me, smiles, waves, and says "hi!" he is such a nerd i love him. and then i said hi back and i said "happy heather day" and he said "oh yeah december third!"

EXHIBIT C this is HEVILY related to exhibit b. so we text in groupchats with other people but never individually. and since the other day i was talking about heather sweaters and he said he didnt know a new one came every year, i sent him the post with the sweaters and was like oh look see. i did it hopefully to be a conversation starter and have us start talking. and then he saw it at 10am. he didnt respond until 4pm. but he did see it during school so maybe bad wifi?? but idk. the point is, he saw it during school. and we have english LAST PERIOD. so when i said happy heather day and he said "oh yeah!-" he cant have forgotten because HE SAW MY MESSAGE. HE KNEW IT WAS HEATHER DAY. my friend says he was pretending to have forgotten just to like conversation?? idk but she also says that he was looking at me too as he walked over to his friend but that may be her also being delusional

EXHIBIT D is more just general not a specific time. but just listen. so he's a conan fan too. he says he has vinyls, he has a found heaven wallpaper that he uses occasionally on his phone. but he's not a crazy fan like i am. which is fine you can like an artist without being obsessed. but the thing is, he always brings up conan gray. and i KNOW that he's not that big of a fan. my friend told me she was like HES BRINGING HIM UP SO YOU CAN TALK ABOUT HIM and that would make sense since its a shared interest of ours. maybe hes trying to get something out of that??? idk but its kinda cute. like he keeps bringing up conan and yes i love conan but sir i know youre not that obsessed with him. and yeah he might just be nice i tried to tell my friend that because maybe he is just a good friend but he doesnt bring up ANYONE ELSES interests like that. he is doing this on purpose.

EXHIBIT E is actually nothing im just delusional. we took buzfeed quizzes and got the same result for "which jellycat are you" and then for the letter of your soulmates name he got e. his quiz also told him that he will meet his soulmate in a library and we met in english freshman year and OUR ENGLISH TEACHERS CLASSROOM WAS CONNECTED TO THE SCHOOL LIBRARY. just saying.and when i took that quiz it said that my soulmate was in the same room. so. hehehe.

so thats my evidence ive presented it. he's really sweet and cute and sometimes awkward but me too and he's a nerd (in the best way possible) and he wears GLASSES UGH. sooo yeah besides the last one this is all facts not just me being delusional so idk i feel like he has SOME sort of interest

[adorable-deku]

the vet's office. the aquarium is loud. the lights are bright. the sprite the nice front desk lady gave me sparkes sadly at a middle distance; my stomach refuses it.

my cat crouches behind the vessel sink across the room, the only dim space under a corner of cabinet.

the gurgle of the aquarium is distracting but not relaxing, i am forgotten by everyone but marge, the nice lady who gave me the sprite and the chips i cant force down

the aquarium is a distorted window to the hallway, a fantasy land where little glimmering fish swim through the air and plastic ferns.... dont do anything. theyre dead still, like the doctor behind them.

how long has she been looking at me. how long has she been standing there. why is she still standing there instead of coming in.

i lift my hand in an awkward half-wave, the kind you give to a strange acquaintance across the cafe, not someone you want to talk to. its a multi layered gesture, but right now it means do something else than what you're doing right now. anything else.

it would be better if she swung a sledgehammer at the aquarium at least that would be interesting.

she doesnt.

she knocks on the fake wood heavy laminate door, her voice muffled through the it but echoing through the aquarium glass

i open the door for her

she enters the room.

there is nothing wrong with her except for a gawky neck and a smile that seems sewn to her face, the corners just barely turned down and her eyes gaunt but wide open.

she shakes my hand, her neat doctors coat rustling like fresh plastic

hows she doing today?

she looks at me and not at my cat even though i am clearly here about my cat.

i feel like ive told three people already why im here.

people walk by behind us and their voices are loud, as if magnified by the panes of glass of the aquarium. a thump startled me, arouses apprehension, as if i am still waiting for the real veterinarian to come in.

shes still looking at me. i think shes blinked. maybe she did it when i was looking away

a lot of things happen when i look away

i still havent answered her question

shes alright i think. she mightve got stung by a scorpion but ive been stung by them and she doesnt looks like shes in even a fraction of the pain i was in so. maybe just hit by a pincer. still, better safe than sorry

the aquarium gurgles in the silence.

she smiles wider

better safe than sorry, you're absolutely correct.

she aalks toward my cat and i get up. i dont think to get up at all, not to follow her. i dont want her to touch my cat.

her fingers are normal but her nails are long, do veterinarians usually have long nails

do they usually wear doctors coats, the long white ones that rustle, like i wore in science olympiad

she is closer to my cat than i am

do cats usually get stung?

she stops, and turns fully to face me, her hand on the counter

excuse me?

i swallow and her gaze flickers down and back up

it is common, i mean, for cats to be stung by scorpions?

she hums in thought and it is shrill

not usually. but all it takes is a second of inattention and anything can become prey.

i watch her

she watches me

i swallow

her gaze is down

i swallow

i watch her eyes follow the movement of my throat

maam?

she isnt wearing a nametag

hmm?

could you please leave?

she meets my eyes again and the smile fades

im sorry?

the room, could you please leave it?

she swallows now, her fingers tense as she pulls back, her smile wide again but tights now, stretched across a dry face.

.... of course

i watch her leave

the aquarium gurgles as i watch her walk out the lobby through the front doors

[saliosis]

Sorry to fangirl right to your face but I found your Wordgirl high school AU on a whim and HOLY SHIT I ALREADY LOVE IT SO MUCH AND IVE ONLY KNOWN ABOUT IT FOR LIKE TWENTY MINUTES.

Like every single aspect is *chef’s kiss*. I haven’t thought about this show outside of brief nostalgia and a “oh wow I still can’t believe they got all those big names as VAs” in ages but it all awoke in me like a sleeper agent when I saw the first post of yours. Scoops early 2010s gender crisis?? OF COURSE! Toby getting his shit rocked by puberty? OF COURSE HE WOULD!!!

((Also my first impressions of what they’d be like in the modern day is Scoops basically becoming Eugene from the Try Guys, and Toby being very, like… a “wife guy”, but in a genuine way? (Not in a John Mulaney/Ed Fulmer way) Like I imagine him and Becky in their 30s married with maybe a kid or two, and Toby is a surprisingly good dad despite his upbringing (we love a king that breaks the cycle) and is this chill cool dad that lets his kids sneak ice cream at 10pm or something, idk how to put it into words I just FEEL IT IN MY BONES ahhh))

ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK GRUAUSUSUAUAAUUUGH!!!!! IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT!

if there's anyone i know would HATE ned fulmer and john mulaney's fake "wife guy" thing, it would ABSOLUTELY be tobey. i have a couple of my own ideas about what the kids would be like as adults in the modern day (based on my au, they'd be around 29-30), but you're cooking anon 😌 i think tobey is also a girl dad, but i could imagine them having maybe one boy too. so tobey letting his kids sneak in ice cream is also just extremely relevant given how bro was always asking becky out for an ice cream date .... now he's giving his kids secret ice cream. is that a secret love language thing??? /j

but we all know becky would catch him. it would just be like

(TOBEY has given his kids scoops of ice cream in a cup and is now starting cleaning up the evidence. He smiles as his kids giggle, but he shushes them.)

TOBEY: "Shh. Careful now. We musn't let your mother heaaa--AH-!!"

(TOBEY yelps as he turns to his right, immediately confronted with an upset BECKY. She has her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him.)

TOBEY, frantically covering things up: "Becky! My love! My, you look so radiant and beautiful tonight. Have I told you that yet?"

BECKY: "What are you doing?"

TOBEY: "NOTHING! Just-- ah-- having a snack for myself!"

(The freezer door is wide open, tubs of ice cream are open, he holds the ice cream scooper, and their kids have ice-cream dripping from their chibs. It's very clear what he was doing.)

BECKY, cocking a brow: "You do know I have superhearing, right?"

TOBEY: "Ah... Right."

(TOBEY flashes her a very guilty grin, clearly having forgotten that.)

BECKY: "Ugh. Fine. We might as well all start eating ice cream now that we're breaking the rules."

i love them so much

adult scoops as eugene is also AMAZING. he might actually watch the try guys during their early days too tbh 😭 there's no one else who perfectly portrays his style evolution from teen to adult than eugene 🐐🐐🐐

eugene is also a very proudly queer asian american, so it's possible scoops (like others and also me 😌🇵🇭☝🏼) would take inspo from him!!

BUT AGAIN THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!! FANGIRL ALL YOU WANT! KEEP EM COMIN, IF YOU WANT 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

[midwesternmule]

its cold where i am, warmer than earlier this week though, when i would walk to class with two pairs of thick socks inside my boots and ice formed so thick on the gravel of my apartment parking lot that my truck has stayed stationary for the better half of january. 

i’ve been daydreaming of the warmer months that we experience here in the heart of the states, not yet the hellish days where i wish for winter again and feel the humidity so thick that it sticks in my throat and makes my curls twice as frizzy, but rather the gentle 70 degree nights where i can bring out the hammock to my front porch and set up the tv against my window to watch plotless movies while me and my brother reminisce about our childhood and roll ugly joints. 

in these daydreams, the girl on the other side of the country — the one that i care for so deeply but cant seem to bear to say as much — is stuffed in the hammock with me, our legs intertwined while we sip the cheap wine i bought from the liquor store a few blocks down the hill from the man who no longer asks for my obviously fake id, or maybe she’s sitting on the knobby wooden planks below me while i rake my hands through her self-trimmed hair as she reads me vonnegut and our shared cigarette’s ashes shower the pages. 

later in the night i’d turn on my ancient AC and pull out the futon so we can sleep curled into each other, arms wrapped around slow breathing bodies and fingers woven together. maybe by now we’d have kissed, though knowing us we haven’t, but strangely i think we are both okay with that. my friends don’t quite understand that, but as cliche as it sounds, i don’t need them to. i’d be wearing a tank top and boxers, and she would be wearing a silly pun shirt that she has too many of. i’d hope that she notices the freckles that appear after days in the sun, the ones she told me she loves so much the summer before, and i’d silently admire the tan she can keep up all year due to the beach being a 15 minute walk from her dorms. we would talk about nothing for an hour or two after laying down, giggle at the sounds of other drunk 20-somethings wandering home from the bars close to my building. 

the next morning i’d wake with the warm sun coming in bright through the blinds i’d forgotten to close the night before, laying back down if she hadn’t woken up yet, or maybe if i’d received a moka pot ive asked my mother for as a birthday gift i’ll make her some coffee, she’s the reason i started to love hot coffee after all. maybe we would go to the pastry place across town that we always stop at after a night of drinking, looking as disheveled as every time before. maybe we would go to the donut place my father showed me, the one i promised to take her to earlier this month.

normally she would leave to go back to the town where i grew up and where we met, but in these daydreams she stays with me for the day, and since its a sunday we laze about in my notably less crowded college town, walking downtown streets and rifling through thrift store clothing racks and the record shop’s collections, as i have somehow acquired a record player for my tiny apartment that floats music through the open porch door, which i’ve left open so the incense smoke can reach us outside as we sit on my floor cushions and play cards, shitty but tolerable beer bottles at our sides. 

these daydreams seem to warm me from within, like the ambience of an early summer’s day has some how transcended my consciousness and soaked into my very bones. i’m cruelly reminded of reality though when i open my eyes to scoot further under my three blankets as i have began to shiver slightly while typing. the futon isn’t pulled out to accommodate the warm body of another, but rather because it’s further from the drafty window on the western wall. i’m up too late, not because of a long conversation that i’ll cherish but because the memories of them make me so painfully aware of that which i miss most right now.

its not the summer’s heat that i dream of.

[mariatesstruther]

❄️

from my crossfaded!maria wip!

summary/scene: early-ish in his time in jackson, tommy finds himself taking care of maria and talia (dina’s older sister) after they have a lil too much fun

“alright, maria.”

“why are you— why are talking to me like that?”

“like what?”

“like that, tommy. like ive had too much to drink.”

“i have a feeling i wont get away with answering that, ma’am”

“ma’am,” she mocked him like she always does, except far worse. “ma’am ma’am ma’am. i dont like it when you call me that. i like it too much.”

“What?” He looks her in the face with his eye brows furrowed, holding back his laugh—it’s clear from her red eyes as well as confused words that she’s still crossed, as johnny has said. “Oh, jesus, you’re really gone. you’re drunk as Cooter Brown.”

“Who the hell is Cooter Brow—“

“Cooter!” Talia exclaims the word from her spot on the floor, giggling hard with her eyes pressed shut in blissful peace. Her giggles turn into a cackle as she brings her arm to point a finger up at Tommy without even looking. “You said Cooter!”

“Okay, alright—“ He tries to move on, but Maria snorts and, to his surprise, starts giggling too; then it’s fucking pointless. He puts his face in his hands, defeated. By the time he finished a deep, long sigh, Talia and Maria are both on the floor near tears, rolling like a pair of hyenas.

maria pauses her laughing for just a second to gasp out towards talia “oh, god, i’m feeling it—talia, i’m fucking feeing it. my face is so warm, talia—why did you do this to me?”

“i did this to you?” talia is giggling so hard her face is damn near completely red, an impressive feat considering how tanned her skin is. she points a finger at herself and then turns it towards maria, nearly poking the other woman in the face. “you did this to you! i told you not to drink it—you smoked enough!”

“drink it?” tommy balked. what the fuck? “how the—did you make goddamn pot tea?”

“uh—“ judging from her face, she’d apparently forgotten he was there again. she tried to school her face into something clueless as maria continued to giggle adorably, muffling it into her hands. “pot? what pot? who said anything abou—?”

“Quit that,” Tommy says—and fuck, he sounds like Joel for a second he’s so exasperated. “Please, please tell me you didn’t let Maria drink decade-old weed, Talia.”

talia drops the act and pouts, clearly put out that he isn’t going along with her jokes—to be fair, he usually does. being up at what he guesses is hours past midnight isn’t helping his mood. Perhaps noticing his grumpy exhaustion, she goes on. “I obviously grow my own, buzzkill—it’s fresh! Do you want some? You seem like you could use some.”

“No. I do not want some.”

“Are you sure?”

“I—,” Tommy rubs a hand over this face, from his forehead to his mustache, and lets out a little laugh. He really can’t ever help it, with Talia. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you. Maybe later.”

“whatever you do,” he hears maria say, and he looks over—somehow, fast and quiet, she settled herself to lie straight with her back across the floor. she looks up at him with red-rimmed, squinty eyes and a small comfy smile; the sight of her so relaxed and blissed out makes him fall a little bit in love. she continues to speak, voice low and slightly slurred: “drink that shit slowly, tommy. i did it too fast, and now—“

talia and him watch, silent and amused, and maria takes a big deep breath, a big in-and-out like she’s just eaten the fullest meal of her life. her smile grows, slow and dangerous and beautiful, to show pearly white teeth.

“—now I can’t fucking move!” She breaks out into delighted cackled once again, and this round specifically reminds him so much of how she’d laughed in his arms when they’d first met—the memory makes his cheeks heat and his chest ache. oblivious to his yearning, she goes on, laughing. “i don’t want to fucking move, i feel so heavy. it’s fucking amazing.”

“yeah,” talia beams down at her from her spot on the couch, crossing her arms and straightening up. clearly, she’s proud and pleased with herself. “My shit’ll do that to you. I told you not to drink the whole thing.”

“Oh, whatever, it’s great, I’m great. I’m amazing,” Maria waves a hand in the air towards Talia, sloppily, and it drops back down onto her stomach with a comical smack. “Pot is great, Talia—you’re amazing! Tommy’s amazing, everything’s amazing.”

Talia shoots up an amused smirk at Tommy; the both of them are trying their best not to laugh at Maria, this time. “You hear that, Tommy? You’re amazing.”

[orangeslikesbread]

yk, I've seen you talk about Jeri x Emma before. I'm afraid that I don't see the potential but I'm very curious to hear about the potential

tbh, i dont remember why or how I started shipping them, I think I just liked the look of them together !!

but now that ive liked them for a while I really like the idea of their potential dynamic !! i think they probably met at camp idontwannabang in middle school (emma was forced to go), and her and jeri became friends, like the rebel girl and shy normie bsf (bad analogy but whtvr). also the fact the both say the line "things in the forest grow fast, and big, and different" (or smth like that I don't remember the exact line) and I think maybe it something they joked about when they were kids bc adults told it to them to try and scare them into being obedient, which emma obviously didn't care about or believe them, but jeri did and emma would laugh at her and call her a wimp (in a silly playful way ofc) and jeri would always try and act tough around her to try and impress her.

but by the time they got into highschool, emma stopped going to the camp and jeri went to sycamore, they didn't really talk anymore (jeri's parents thought emma was a bad influence so they could only really hang out at camp and during school). but jeri would still go to see every school play and musical at hatchetfield high just so she could see emma, but ofc as soon as she turned 18 emma was up and out of town, so eventually jeri forgot about her, they both forgot about each other.

until one day, when they are both adults (jeri is working at the camp and emma is living on her farm), and basically absintence camp happens except jeri survives, so she just runs through the woods, and keeps running until she is stopped by a large farm house blocking her path. she bangs and bangs on the door until (a very high) emma opens the door. they are both a little shaken up because they had practically forgotten about each other (not really, jeri had been thinking about her a lot more recently with all the lil jerry stuff going on, but she didn't know emma had been back in town bc she doesn't really go downtown and she knows beanies is shit so shes never been, and when emma came back into town, all her childhood memories w/ jeri came flooding back and she cant stop thinking about her and she doesn't know why -suprise surprise its cuz shes gay asf-), but nonetheless emma lets her in because she is clearly in distress, she makes jeri some tea or smth and comforts her

sorry i started babbling i just love them sm💗💗(I have so many thoughts abt them)