#she had a stamp with her name that she put in every one

[grinchwrapsupreme]

nothing I love more in a secondhand book than a note written to someone in the cover

[anjellaufeyson]

I could treat you better - Bellamy Blake

Time stamp: 1:38

My boyfriend was lovely–his friend wasn’t. Bellamy Blake was the rudest man I’ve ever come across; I only tolerated him for my boyfriend. 

Murphy kissed me before he got pulled away for work, he was doing guard watch. I sighed, why couldn’t Bellamy do this? He always had Murphy doing everything for him, and I’m sick of it. Whenever Muphy comes back to our tent he’s exhausted or too tired to even spend time with me. I left my tent and walked inside Bellamy’s, he was shirtless and a girl was lying on his bed. I immediately left with a disgusted look on my face. 

Soon he came out searching for me, “What do you want, princess?” 

I palmed my face while we strolled together through Arkadia, “I’d prefer if you wouldn’t call me that, Blake. Especially since some people say that when they’re together.” 

He tilted his head, his eyes gazing into mine, he glanced down with a bit of a smile, “Right, whatever you say, princess.” 

The need to correct and argue with him was there but I ignored it for the sake of Murphy. “okay–can you please stop keeping my boyfriend working late? I’m aware of how things are, like it or not I’m one of the smart ones and I think he’s being overworked and–”

Bellamy’s face showed confusion in itself, “Murphy gets off at the same time as everyone else. I work the late nights, I’m who stays up all night, every night.” 

I stopped moving, trying to process my indecision and incoming sense of betrayal. “Wait, you haven’t been keeping Murphy late or hanging out with him late?” 

He shook his head and crossed his arms, his muscles clenching to his tight shirt. His veins popping out. My eyes tore away, my emotions were my only focus. “No, I don’t think anyone has. We’ve been on a lockdown since Clarke went missing.” 

My brain racked everything Murphy’s ever told me since he began ‘working’ late. I thought of the girl I assumed he had a relationship with but when I questioned him, he brushed me off. Out of anger, I took off leaving Bellamy, who ended up following behind me calling for my name. I moved the tent side and immediately saw Murphy and the girl kissing. They stopped once they noticed me and how distraught I looked. 

I backed up and accidentally bumped into Bellamy’s chest, I didn’t cry. I felt like I should cry, my body begged to cry, but when you did here–it made you seem weak. And I’d never want Murphy to see me cry even though my heart did in return. I turned and tried to shield myself with Bellamy’s chest, but hesitantly he put his arms around me. Trying to comfort me but I knew we both detested each other. He never liked me with Murphy for a reason I am unaware of, and I just never liked him. He brushed his hand up and down my back, almost in circular motions. 

Murphy’s voice appeared from behind me but I didn’t dare to look back because I felt so vulnerable, I knew I would cry. “I need to talk with her, I can explain!”

Bellamy stepped in, holding me closer. His voice was demanding, his tone was deep, “Murphy, you should go. Now. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll do it later.” 

I could hear Murphy protesting before easily giving up, he didn’t care to try. I pushed away from Bellamy who almost looked shocked at how quickly I switched up. 

We had to go on a mission, and I found myself in a difficult position. A hand covered my mouth and once I realized I didn’t know the person whose hand it was I began to get a bit scared. I tried to fight them off but couldn’t–it had to be a grounder. 

The grounder pulled a sword on me and dug into my back, but not enough to hurt me but it pierced the skin. He pushed me onto my knees where my friends were–including Bellamy. The whole hunting group was in. Murphy seemed nervous. I guess I should be too, especially since it’s my life on the line. 

“Who’s valuable to her?”

What an odd fucking question–is this supposed to be leverage? Might as well let me die. 

Bellamy not even a second later stepped forward, “She’s with me, that’s my girlfriend.” He spoke so truthfully that even everyone we knew was aware he was lying through his teeth. 

“What are you willing to give me in turn for her life?” 

His eyes almost turned vulnerable, his words coming off as pathetic as his tone came off as pleads. “What do you want?” 

The grounder moved the sword which caused me to wince, “I want Wanheda.” Everyone shared a confused glance, who is that? “Give her to me and I won’t kill her.” 

“Take me instead, she has a better chance of getting through to Wanheda than me.” What is he doing? He’s going to get himself killed–I’m aware he can handle himself but this is almost suicidal. The grounder pushed me into Bellamy’s arms. He squeezed my hand for the quickest second and moved to the grounder who hit him immediately. 

I wanted to help him but I didn’t know how to, Bellamy could’ve attacked but stayed down, taking another punch with ease. I stepped forward but he put his hand up, “Don’t,” he demanded while blood ran down his cheek. 

Why was he willing to do this for me? We’ll never find her, I mouthed. He did a tiny nod. They need you, I mouthed once more. He got kicked in his ribs and I knew I lost his attention but while the grounder was distracted I quickly stole Murphy’s gun and shot the grounder. My aim was good, but I hated shooting, killing wasn’t something I wanted to do. But I had to–for him. 

Without processing what I did I went to Bellamy’s side. I hated his stupidity and I hated how he saved my life. “I hate you,” I said as I helped him up. He spit out blood, “I know,” he said while wincing from getting up too quickly. 

While Bellamy was getting medical from Abby, I was talking with Octavia and Jasper. Murphy approached grabbing my arm, “Were you and Bellamy seeing each other behind my back?”

His breath reeks of Monty’s moonshine, “Are you serious? You’ve been cheating on me, Murphy?”

“Were you yes or no?” 

Before I could say anything Bellamy put his arm around my waist. His hands slipped around my stomach. Holding me tight but just to keep himself steady from behind. “Yes,” he said in a raspy voice, still clearly in pain. I couldn’t turn my head, I’d be too close to his face. He groaned a bit in pain but still managed to keep his posture strong and himself looking composed. Bellamy pulled me in closer to him and that got a bit of a reaction from Murphy. 

“Fuck you both,” he said as he stormed off. Everyone else decided to leave us alone, I was going to Bellamy back to medic. There was a zero percent chance he was let out yet. 

He stopped me from walking, his tight and bloody shirt doing him every bit of justice. His hands took control so easily, “Why’d you do it,” I asked. 

His fingers traced along my neck, “Save you? Or help you?”

“Both,” I spoke breathlessly. His eyes were fixated on my lips and I wondered if Abby gave him painkillers or something for this type of behavior. 

Bellamy stared down at me, tension felt like it was rising, and the heat was radiating off our bodies. He kept one hand on my waist, holding me. His right hand pulled my hair to the side he leaned in, “because we both know I could treat you better,” he whispered into my ear.

[puppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

buy me a ☕?

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again, part one

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: references to utm, war, disease

a/n: sorry for the delay! part two coming in the next few days, if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!

series masterlist

Shockwaves of magic swept through Prythian and the surrounding islands at once. It felt like the ground beneath your feet shifted. Once, twice, three times - and you heard shouts from around you. You took a brief moment to thank the mother that it wasn’t just in your head. 

You picked up the basket, sprinting back towards your home. Herbs flew out of the sides, but you’d go back to collect later. Whatever this was now, it was huge. You felt it in your bones, something in your world was changing, everything seemed to come to a standstill - the rest could wait. 

The entire island was tense for the next few days, everyone waiting to see what did happen. Whispered murmurs of the possibilities, of the could-be’s, of the tentative hope blossoming - a hope nobody let show publicly. 

Secluded by yourselves, the wards you’d collectively put together at the beginning of Amarantha’s reign, near impenetrable, made news difficult to come by. 

Three days later, a tingling sensation on the back of your neck woke you. It was gone by the time you’d rushed into your kitchen, fingers white-knuckled around a dagger. 

Two letters. One addressed to the inhabitants of the town, wax sealed with the stamp of the Night Court. Next to it, one with just your name. 

Shaking hands, unsteady breaths, you ripped it open, ignoring the sting of a small cut on your index finger.

Your eyes flew over the words. The paper began to fold under your tight grip, edges wrinkling. 

Unsteady breaths, a lone tear dripping down your cheek, it took minutes of pacing and intentional breathing to collect yourself. 

Bringing it back to your room, you climbed half under your bed, sliding a loose board aside and shoved the letter inside, sliding a box over it. That couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. 

Grabbing the other envelope, swinging your door open, a cool spring breeze hitting your face, reddening your cheeks and nose, before heading to share the news. 

You ignored the other implication of the situation. The particular scent lingering on the envelope. You hadn’t thought of him in years, and now wasn’t the time to start. 

-

“The High Lord wants to visit,” the older female breathed, eyes wide as she turned her gaze to you, before frowning. “Why would he ask?”

“He could be having difficulty getting through the wards,” her mate said, covering the female’s hand with his own, mouth curving at the corners, a twinkle of pride. Well deserved, he had painstakingly designed them. 

“Or he’s sending this as a courtesy, they got the letter to us after all,” she snorted, but returned his smile. 

You knew who’d sent the letter. The hint of night chilled mist and cedar so unique you couldn’t have imagined it. 

With Madja’s help, you’d gotten permission from Rhysand to leave Velaris sixty years ago, for a while able to visit every few months until…

You subconsciously rubbed the bargain tattoo on your ribcage. Three stars surrounded by a circle, your promise to never reveal the location of Velaris. 

-

Azriel knew his brother needed a distraction, and frankly - he needed to leave the damn city. The once safe haven that had become a necessary prison. He was too self-aware to discount the other reason, the need to lay eyes on you and see that you were safe, at least somewhat. 

Rhys shot him a curious look when he volunteered too quickly - when Azriel had raised the idea. 

“There’s wards surrounding the island,” he schooled his face neutral - the spymaster, doing his job, “are near impenetrable.” Except perhaps by you or me, he didn’t need to say aloud. Yes, he’d sent shadows to scout the area soon after the curse broke, and they’d brought interesting reports in turn. 

Rhys nodded, and Azriel sat across from him as he wrote out two letters, sealing and sliding them across the table. 

One was addressed to … you. His blink of surprise gave him away.

“You know her?” Rhys’s eyes glimmered. He’d been discreet with his lovers, and of course he was aware Rhys knew, but just because he’d thought of you didn’t mean he wanted to share with others. But … the amused expression in Rhys’s eyes wavered, revealing some of the strain beneath. 

A distraction, that’s what his brother and High Lord needed, and perhaps he could do with a touch of vulnerability. 

“We were involved … before she left.” 

“I know,” Rhys smirked. For fucks sake. “Why do you think I let her leave and keep knowledge of Velaris? It was obvious she could keep a secret - she never said a word about your … involvement, to anyone else.”

Again, something he knew, but he had the decency to show a touch of surprise. 

Azriel raised a brow, a gentle nudge against the shields barricading his mind, and he lowered them slightly. 

“You’re willing to make a bargain?” Rhys leaned back in his chair, you seated before him, fidgeting and brimming with energy. 

“Yes,” your voice was strong and firm. 

“Very well,” his mouth turned up at the corners, a smile designed to put people at ease - it worked on you. 

The bargain was fair and concise. You could leave Velaris, and return as you wish as long as you never revealed or hinted to the name, location, or existence of Velaris. 

Azriel pushed Rhys out, slamming walls back in place. “Why are you showing me this?”

“You want to investigate the island, don’t you?” He wanted to slap the smirk off the other male's face. “She’s one person you know intimately,” Azriel rolled his eyes, “who lives there.” 

“I doubt she would speak to me,” he retorted dryly. 

“You’d be surprised what time and distance can do,” he countered. Az shook his head, he wouldn’t let false hope sink in, hope of regaining your … friendship. Maybe seeing you, even if it was just once, would be enough. 

-

A day later, Azriel stood on a cliff, wards pulsing with magic in front of them. Rhys to his left, Mor flanking his other side, they waited for … well, he wasn’t entirely what. For someone who would let them in. Rhys had sent a charmed parchment, designed to deliver their answer immediately, and everything in the letter sounded perfectly enthusiastic. 

Magic parted enough to reveal an older female and male - centuries older than themselves given the wrinkles starting to line their faces, appearing as if they were close to fading. Both carried themselves with confidence, but a warm and open demeanor as they bowed deeply. 

“Thank you for coming to see us,” the male rasped. 

He took brief notes of their names, the introduction, while sending discreet shadows to poke around the rest of the wards and small community. Due diligence and routine instinct now. They eyed him just a touch of caution, but it didn’t phase him, it never had. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “we’ve prepared lunch.” 

“Not at all,” Rhys smiled, the warmth in his tone almost matching the one he used with the citizen’s of Velaris, still laced with subtle authority. 

Less than a quarter of a mile, and they approached a quaint looking town. Stone houses, slightly corroded by salty air, but built sturdily - ready to weather any type of storm. Sure, he’d heard all of this through his shadows but seeing had a different effect. Paved pathways, a few different shops and a tavern. 

“Not much of an economy now,” she was telling Mor, “we trade what we can, all help each other out. Kept to ourselves the last few decades.” Kept to ourselves. 

‘They locked themselves away,’ Rhys’s voice flooded through his mind. “The community is small enough that Amarantha didn’t bother looking.” But they’d been a vital trading port for the Night Court before. He was surprised she’d ignored it. “I was too,” Rhys said. 

Ignored, but she’d considered them anyway. A sickening feeling coiled in his gut. If Amarantha had gotten to you … 

“The healer you recommended,” the male spoke to Rhys, pulling him from his mind, ''saved all our lives when a disease swept through, ‘bout thirty years ago. A great female.” 

“One of the best healers I know,” Rhys replied. It was the truth. As far as healers went, you were one of the best available. He wondered if you knew the other reason you were sent here; If Hybern were to attack the Night Court, they all suspected this Island would be the first target, and a skilled and trustworthy healer was needed on the ground. On the front lines. That sickening feeling returned, and Azriel knew he needed to set his own eyes, not just shadows, on you before he left. 

-

You couldn’t avoid the lunch, not without raising suspicion. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. He was the spymaster, after all, not usually sent to do courtesy visits. Still, this had been the talk of the town for the last two weeks. 

‘The High Lord,’

‘Do you think he’s as handsome as they say?’ 

‘He isn’t mated or married, is he?’ 

Mother above. You had to try and match their excitement, to blend in. They couldn’t know you grew up seeing him frequently in Velaris. All they’d known is you apprenticed with one of the Inner Circle’s preferred healers - and even that was a rumor you’d never confirmed or denied. 

Hand braced on your doorframe, three conscious breaths, and you pushed it open, forcing your hands to relax at your sides, keeping your strides even and steps paced. 

A small crowd had gathered outside of the largest tavern, and you weaved yourself into the fray, balancing on your toes to catch a glimpse through the open doors. 

Hazel eyes connected with yours, and your stomach dropped. 

Just your luck. You couldn’t bring yourself to break the gaze, the way his eyes searched you, the brief hint of relief in them. Why the hell was he relieved? He’d made it perfectly clear you meant little to him, and now he meant nothing to you. 

Slipping backwards, you tore your gaze away and slipped down the street. 

-

“Go ask her some questions,” Rhys had thrown a hint of command into his tone. He wanted Azriel to gain some kind of information from you. It made sense. He wanted, needed, to see you anyway. “I’ll keep everyone distracted.” 

Easy enough for him, Azriel took the next chance to melt into the shadows, to follow you. You led him right to a secluded cliff, sitting a few safe paces back, arms wrapped around your knees, squeezing tighter and he approached from the side - in your line of sight. 

“What do you need?” He wasn’t surprised by the harshness. Pausing a good few paces to your left, he sat, legs kicked out in front of him, bracing his palms on the cold stone. 

“To ask a few questions.” 

“Go ahead,” you muttered, still keeping your eyes off him. 

“How did you remain hidden all of these years?” 

“Magic. Wards. Things Fae more skilled than I created.” 

Truth, a shadow sung in his ear. 

“Who?” 

“You probably already met them,” you groused. He fought back a smirk, he’d forgotten how cute you could be when you were grumpy, and promptly wiped that idea from his mind. 

“Tell me anyway.” 

You listed the two who’d greeted them. Not surprising. It also told him it wasn’t quite a secret, especially with the brief pride flashed in your eyes. 

“Did you have to … give anything to it?”

“Ask them.” 

“I’m asking you,” he countered mildly. You wouldn’t get away with evading his questions. 

“A bit of blood and a bit of magic.” 

He hummed. Rhys would probably ask similar questions, but it was good to hear from another source. 

“Why did you need to come here?” Venom filled your tone. 

“By our High Lord's request,” Azriel said dryly. 

-

By our High Lord’s request. Of course there was no interest in seeing you. You were merely a bonus, a person he could easily ask questions to. You hated yourself for letting the thought cross your mind. 

“I wanted to see you, as well,” you almost missed the softly spoken words. 

“What made you think I want to see you?” You shot at him, finally turning to face him.

“I didn’t say that,” a brief flash in his eyes. “I said I wanted to see you.” 

“You’ve seen me,” you waved a hand. “Any more questions?” Brief silence. “Good. Leave me the fuck alone.” Forever, the narrowing of your eyes said. 

“You should know,” he tilted his head back, this time escaping your gaze. “I didn’t forget about you - I” 

“Just stop,” you hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

The implication struck you - others had forgotten, and he knew that. Azriel leaned forward, eyes on the ocean, knees raising and forearms bracing on them.

“Amarantha may be gone,” a shiver ran down your spine - at the name, and the low and deadly tone, “but Hybern will still cause issues.” War. “Rhys will give the same warning to your town today. Velaris and here may be the safest places in the Night Court.”

“Is he asking us to open the wards?” Because they’d do it in a heartbeat, and you knew that. 

“Perhaps,” Azriel said, and turned back to you, hazel eyes searching for something. “You’d be safe here.”  

“If there’s going to be a fucking war, i’ll be there. Healing.” 

“I know,” an unrecognizable set of emotions flashed in his eyes. “I’d see you there.” 

“I hope not,” you countered, keeping your eyes fixed on the waves, on the white foam topping them. A current so violent only the strongest swimmers braved it. “I might not like you, but I don’t want to see anyone,” you emphasized, “hurt.”

Azriel nodded, and rocked forward, rising to his feet. He offered a hand to you, you ignored it, pushing yourself up and facing the path back to town. 

“Stay safe, spymaster,” you looked over your shoulder, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?” 

A grin crossed your face at the brief ire reflecting on his and you strode off.

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[bigboysteveharrington]

Steve lowkey earning himself a reputation for liking guys and girls before he even realizes he does because he keeps interjecting and giving his own answer every time someone tries to ask Robin about guys

At first no one thinks anything of Steve’s interruption and answer when Nancy asks “what even is your type?” quite clearly to Robin and Steve immediately answers “I like girls that are way smarter than me” and everyone just assumes he’s interrupting to hit on Nancy and not to deflect

Then later someone insists some guy was flirting with Robin and she should go for it and Steve immediately goes “Are you kidding me? Robin’s way out of his league. Besides, I had a class with him and he mentioned his stamp collection in it like eight times. Do you really think she wants to sit around and pretend to be impressed by hundreds of stamps?” Still no one thinks much of it yet and if anything they think Steve might be jealous or might just have standards for who they should set her up with

It’s not until it becomes a habit of him answering questions meant for Robin that people start to think there’s a reason, but it’s not Robin they’re onto

Like when they’re having a movie night and Max is going on and on about a shirtless character while Lucas is totally unfazed but Dustin complains and El says which character she liked more and then Max turns to Nancy to break the tie and say which guy is dreamier and Nancy casts her vote, then turns to look over at Robin and ask which guy she’d go for and Steve knows who the question is for but hey he’s sitting right next to Robin so Nancy’s looking in his direction and too and she didn’t say Robin’s name, so Steve doesn’t even hesitate before dropping the name of a character and making sure he keeps the focus off of Robin and keeps everyone distracted from dragging her into that debate by immediately backing it up by saying that Max is right and giving even more reasons to choose him

But even after that, that’s mostly forgotten by the time the older group is drinking and Eddie suggests they play a drinking game and normally Steve would be all over any suggestions, but he turns down truth or dare because he knows how uncomfortable Robin would be and doesn’t want her having to choose between awkwardly lying and deflecting or doing dares she’s not comfortable with or potentially outing herself so he at least manages to change it to never have I ever because that’s a safer bet when he knows Robin hasn’t done anything with any girls

But then Steve ends up drinking significantly more than anyone else while Robin and Eddie are hardly drinking so they end up switching games and somehow they end up playing fuck, marry, kill except Nancy has no interest in getting married or discussing it and she says there’s been enough death in Hawkins and it would be more fun to play with the options as sleep with, kiss, slap. And the game is already started before anyone can ask why marry got changed to kiss and before drunk Steve can figure out how to discretely convince everyone not to. The game goes fine at first with Argyle asking Jonathan about three girls from California. It goes alright when Jonathan asks Eddie about three girls. Steve gets a little concerned when Eddie turns his attention on Nancy that he’ll put Jonathan and him in the list right in front of Jonathan, but Eddie is sober enough still that he at least has enough tact not stir the pot and blow things up on her first turn by throwing them both in in front of them

But then Nancy goes to give Robin a turn and she’s looking right at her and lists the three guys there other than Steve (possibly because she believes Robin on the platonic with a capital P thing and possibly because she doesn’t want to find out if that would waver) so of course Nancy thinks it’s clear that she must be talking to the only other girl there. And before Robin can even try to think of what lie would be the most convincing and least likely to start any awkwardness or drama, Steve’s already jumping in with “Well, I already hit Jonathan and that didn’t go well for me, so I’ll give him a break. And this situation” (gesturing between himself and Nancy and Jonathan) “is finally starting to feel normal so I don’t need to make that awkward all over again by sleeping with your boyfriend. So kiss Jonathan.” And Nancy and Jonathan are looking at him so confused and Robin is grateful for the interruption and relieved but also kind of amused by the level of thought he’s putting into it instead of just throwing out names however. Argyle’s not fazed at all and just waiting to see what he’ll get. Eddie goes from deer in the headlights startled to leaning forward with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hand waiting to see where this will go to abruptly sitting up again and trying to look less interested while his leg nervous bounces and he tries to figure out if Steve is giving a detailed answer to this as a joke or because he’s putting genuine thought into the idea of being with a guy

Steve looks between Eddie and Argyle for a moment, then focuses on Argyle and is like “Sorry, I hardly know you and getting dragged into hitting Eddie or standing around and watching Tommy do it without making any move to stop him is exactly the kind of douchebag bullshit I would have pulled in high school. So I guess slap you and have sex with Eddie.” Eddie’s drink goes down the wrong way when Steve adds “Plus, guitar players are supposed to be good with their hands, right?” and he tries to play it off and not react to the fact that Steve Harrington just said he’d have sex with him and that he thinks Eddie would be good in bed even if it was just in the context of some stupid game. Meanwhile Argyle’s just like “Nah, that’s cool dude. I get it. I would have slapped you too if the roles were reversed.”

After that, a few people start wondering a little more seriously if Steve is into guys too and had his guard down while drinking. But Eddie isn’t going to press his luck without clear evidence and everyone else isn’t going to push it so they just silently wonder a little more every time Steve interjects in the girl talk with his own opinion once again

[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT1 Friendly Fire

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.

Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.

PT 2 Here!

Two things I hate the most?

My neighbour and New York City.

They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.

I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.

It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.

I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.

I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.

It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.

Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.

The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.

I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.

Trust me, I have retaliated.

On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.

Almost.

I still hate it.

I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.

"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"

"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."

This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"

My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."

"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"

Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.

"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."

"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.

"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-

She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.

"Is everything alright?"

"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.

"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-

"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.

"Wait-

Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.

I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.

The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.

I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.

Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.

My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.

The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.

"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.

"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."

"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."

"What about the wall?"

Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."

I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.

That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.

-

I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.

Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.

Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.

My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.

"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.

"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.

"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.

I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.

"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."

I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.

"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.

This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"

The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.

"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.

"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"

"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"

"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.

"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."

"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"

I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.

Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.

The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.

"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."

"Where's here exactly?"

"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.

I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"

"To make it out alive."

"And your name?"

"It's Ellie."

-

That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.

However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.

She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.

I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."

"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.

We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."

"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.

"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.

"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"

"Yeah, you've said-

"Do you wanna come and see?"

I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"

"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."

I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."

"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.

Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.

I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.

On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.

She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.

There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.

"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."

I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."

She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."

"Because I'd win?"

She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."

"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.

Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.

"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."

"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."

"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"

"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."

"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."

"Okay, well-

"So you're like Logan Paul?"

Her eyes go wide "No-

"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."

"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."

I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"

Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.

The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.

My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."

A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter four: the wild wolf

summary: chiara calls [name] and unexpectedly sees more sides of benji.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x reader

note: anyone got songs that are reader or benji coded? i'm expanding my playlist 😫

masterlist | playlist

There were many things [Name] could describe Chiara and one of them had not been predictable.

She had told [Name] she would be out with a couple of friends from her department at The Wild Wolf, a club just right outside the campus and a frequent place most students gravitated to after a torturous month of exams and classes.

Chiara had lived with the concept "Party it out" whenever a mildly inconvenient problem had found itself on her lap. [Name] elected to stay home during those times, either working the night shift at Rhaenyra's store or sitting at home. There were rarely ever days where their street was dead silent and [Name] took every opportunity to enjoy the minimal noise pollution.

That's why she found herself dumbfounded as she stood in front of The Wild Wolf, her phone gripped tightly in her hand as the music from her phone was nearly synced with what she was hearing outside. The guard, tall and burly Cregan Stark, was also the TA at her Data Analytics class last semester. He stood awkwardly in front of her as they tried to decode what Chiara was saying.

"I'm - hic - too druuuunk." Chiara says for the sixth time that night to her. "I'm at the sears by the bar. Do you think you can come gerk me please? I promise I won't ever doew thith agai--"

The line cut off, making both Cregan and [Name] shoot each other exhasperated looks. "I'll let you in since I know you're just going in to get her." Is all Cregan can offer, motioning to the ever growing line at to the club.

"I owe you one." [Name] says in response, letting Cregan stamp her hand before opening the door to the sound of loud EDM and body heat. Lights strobbed all around her, making [Name] disoriented as she made her way toward the booths, hoping to find Chiara quickly.

Worry seemed to work its way up as she couldn't find her friend after three booths. She couldn't have wandered too far away from how recent the call was. Still, it was Chiara of all people and the possibility of her wandering off anywhere while inebriated wasn't a new concept.

"Is that [Name]?" A voice calls out as she passes by a group, stopping her from checking another booth just past them. Her eyes go wide as she makes eye contact with a Tully. Beside him stood his brother and a couple of other people she could barely recognize but they certainly knew her from the way they looked at her. She kept herself still before she finally met a set of familiar dark eyes.

Benji looked as shocked as [Name] was as they made eye contact. His hair had been loose of its usual style, the brown strands covering his forehead and as if he'd run his hand through if one too many times all night. He wasn't dressed any differently then usual but she wasn't sure she'd seen him in the striped shirt and jeans he had on.

Or the chain around his neck and rings on his fingers. Or the girl clinging to his arm. A girlfriend? [Name] asked herself before remembering Chiara mentioning he hasn't been seen with anyone.

"Hi?" [Name] says. Benji pulls away from the girl - his friend group entirely - as he comes up to her. [Name] puts a hand up to stop him from coming closer, doing her best to speak loud enough so only he can hear. "I'm not here to party."

"I gathered that much." Benji says, looking at the starry sweater and leggings she threw on before leaving her apartment. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

From the corner of her eye, she can spot the brothers put their heads together, looking over Benji's shoulder and waving. The girl he had stood with looked at her curiously as she put her attention back on the man, worry settling in again as she remembered why she was here.

"My friend - Chiara Tyrell. She called me piss drunk and asked me to come get her. Have you seen her?" She asked him hopefully before looking around.

"No, I haven't but let's find her together, yeah?" Benji calls over the music, before turning back to his friends to tell them he would help [Name] and guiding her through the booths.

They checked diligently, Benji asking anyone he knew if they saw a brunette girl passed out anywhere. [Name] had nearly lost hope in everything until she heard a shriek and felt someone tackle her from behind. She nearly lost her footing had Benji caught her before falling over.

Chiara grinned dopily at the two of them, wrapping her arms around [Name] as she stared straight at Benji and said, "Ben! I'm so glad you're here. Do you think you can convince your girlfriend to go out sometime? It would so much more fun if you'd come with us! But I know that this place probably isn't part of your thing--"

[Name] stared her friend down, hand reaching to cover her mouth but Benji interrupts them, helping Chiara stand up after moving [Name] beside him. "Let's ask her when she's not about to kill you." He interrupts, working as a barrier between them and the dancing crowd.

[Name] groans as she puts her friend's arm around her. "How do you weight nothing but everything at the same time?" She huffs at her friend.

Chiara doesn't respond, seemingly falling asleep after realizing [Name] had found her. Benji grabs the other side of Chiara, helping [Name] move her to a booth close to where he originally was. Kermit and Oscar, having watched the whole ordeal, walks up to them, peering over at Chiara.

"Oh, she's gone." One of them chimes in.

"Do you need help?" The other adds, to which [Name] paused at the thought.

Chiara was small but definitely not light enough for her to walk five blocks on her back. She looked from her friend to the three men in front them then to the group they had came with. All of them seemed invested in what was happening, which made [Name] wonder if any of them were made aware of their agreement at all.

"Um, maybe just to take her outside? I can call a rideshare--" She started but nearly felt sandpaper go down her throat as she caught sight of a familiar mass of brown hair coming their way.

"Odd group to see!" Aeron calls out, a smile on his face that could only mean he drank one too many. His eyes blearily focused on [Name]. "Coming to pick your boyfriend up, [Name]? Ulla Greyjoy was all over him just a moment ago."

A pit in her stomach fell. He saw Benji with another girl? A fear struck in her as she realized they might get caught if she doesn't think of something quickly. "Um, no. I was with Chiara all night. We just separated from everyone."

Aeron glanced at her "In that bingo get up?"

[Name]'s cheeks turned red as she remembered her ridiculously put together outfit. Even in the dim light, she probably did look like a displaced librarian who just finished her night shift. Still, she wouldn't let his comments bother him, turning away to check on Chiara.

Being ignored had been Aeron's least favorite activity. [Name] was set on doing just that as she focused on her friend's needs. She pulled at her sleeves, wishing nothing more than to ignore Aeron and even Benji's subtle comments about her clothing right now. Sure, she did dress up like she was going to a flower field majority of the time, but the clothing made her comfortable but should she have more... Variety?

She could only go so far and wonder as she heard Aeron chime in again. "You know, its alright to admit if you made it all up, [Name]. It was pretty obvious when you said it at the beginning and now its clear you didn't even come in with this group."

The words made her blood run cold. She was sure whoever was around heard it. Aeron made sure it was made to be that way. Typical of someone like him. Benji stepped up this time, toe to toe with Aeron as he loomed over him.

"Say another word, Bracken. I dare you." He snapped, shoving the brunette's shoulder lightly. "[Name] is with us. Or are you too drunk to figure that out?"

"She's dressed like a nun on her off day!"

"So what?"

"Stop covering for her, Blackwood. We all know you haven't touched a woman in forever unless you paid for her." Aeron says before looking over at [Name] and grinning. "Though, who knows what [Name] will do to get money. Tyrell might be in on it as well. Didn't know you were into that kind of stuff, Blackwoo--"

A loud smack sounded in their corner of the club, making a few of the dancing club goers beside them stop. Aeron collapsed to the ground, holding his cheek as he stared at [Name]. Her chest heaved from adrenaline, palm burning as if it could still feel the heat of Aeron's cheek.

"I have a lot of patience for pompus, egotistical dolts like you but don't mistaken that as me being a dormat, Bracken." She seethes, walking closer to him. She leans over, making sure he had a good look at her face. "The next time you insult my friends like that, it won't just be a little bitch slap."

She backs away, not giving him a single glance as she grabs Chiara, the newfound adrenaline finding some strength in her to pull her friend up. A crowd had begun to form, Cregan Stark's burly build breaking through the bodies of skinny first and second years that swarmed them all.

"We're leaving." [Name] says to him. Cregan glanced down at Aeron, now standing in drunken disbelief with his friends as they watched [Name] coax Chiara to sit up.

Cregan nods. "Right. Just so you know, though, you're not allowed in for another few weeks. Any of you."

He stares pointedly between Benji's and Aeron's group. Clearly they he's had to speak to them before and this was a final straw. [Name] glanced apologetically at Benji, who only shook his head, motioning to the Tully brothers.

Kermit and Oscar were quick to come to herside, moving her out of the way as they picked up Chiara on either side. Benji strolled beside [Name], rubbing his hands along the length of her arms as he looked down at her.

"Alright?" He asked quietly, only low enough for her to hear and intimate enough between them for people to think they were together. A ploy to extinguish whatever fire Aeron almost started. Still, there was a genuineness in Benji's question. As a friend, he did want to know how she felt and she knew in her heart he really did, especially with how concerned he looks at her.

Play your part. "Yeah." She murmured, leaning into him without a second thought. She hadn't realized how shaken she was from such a simple comment and slap but when she had found herself against Benji's body, she could feel her shaking fingers clutch at his shirt to ground herself. "Just take us home. Please."

Benji wraps his arms around her, one of his hands smoothing her hair as he places a kiss on it, nodding with another quiet, "Okay. Our apartment is closer, so let's go there tonight, yeah?"

[Name] didn't answer, just nodded as she felt Benji pull away from her and grab her hand instead. She felt him plant another kiss to her forehad, maybe an attempt to sell their romance even more or maybe to calm her down, she hadn't known. Either way, she was nearly glued to Benji as they made their way out the club, hand in hand.

"We'll take Ulla and Aly home." She remembers a voice say. Benji, Kermit, and Oscar nod at them, the four of them (save for an unconscious Chiara who was being carried like a sack of potatoes by Kermit after losing rock-paper-scissors to Oscar) walked down in silence.

[Name] hadn't loosened her grip on Benji's hand, afraid if he might disappear on her despite them walking down a quiet and open street.

"I'm sorry I got you guys kicked out." Was all she could muster.

Oscar was the first to speak up, laughing as he says. "That is the only way we should get kicked out next time. When are you free again after a couple of weeks? I know you and Ben are only dating for a certain time period because of that weird deal and all but you seem like loads of fun with how fast you whipped around to slap Aeron!"

[Name] looked at Benji, who squeezed her hand. "I told my friends, like how you told Chiara. Don't worry, they won't say anything." He promises and she only nods, seemingly trusting his word. So far, anything Benji says makes [Name] comfortable enough to believe.

"She's busy, Oscar. Some people have lives outside of this school, yeah?" Kermit reminds him. "Besides, who would want to hang out with you?"

"Hey!"

The two brothers start to bicker right then and there, only to stop when Chiara groans at them to stop. [Name] giggles at her drunk friend as she pushes some hair out of her face.

"You're not allowed to complain, Chiara. The guys are nice enough to carry you and let us stay with them. Say thank you."

"Thaaaaank ye-yewwww." Chiara manages to slur out.

She's going to be so hungover. [Name] thinks to herself, looking over to see Benji observing her as well. They both share a look of amusement as they come to terms with the possible monster they have to deal with tomorrow morning.

When they make it back to their apartment - or more like a renovated warehouse loft - Chiara is set down on the couch. [Name] takes the time to remove her shoes and make up, letting the three men do whatever it is they needed for the night before asking for anything.

She had wiped the last of Chiara's makeup off when she hears footsteps from the metal stairs. Benji had just finished showering, his hair plastered against his forehead. He was holding a blanket with some clothes and a towel on top. [Name] offers a smile of thanks before throwing the blanket on top of Chiara.

A snort comes out of Benji when Chiara starts to snore loudly. "That's how you know she won't be waking up any time." [Name] informs.

"Well, we should all enjoy it until then." Benji comments. "There's a bathroom attached to our spare room. I usually use it because Oscar takes so long but I didn't want to fog it up just in case."

"Right. Thanks."

"And you can keep the clothes. In case you need to convince someone at your apartments you have a boyfriend and all."

"Cool. Got it." [Name] awkwardly fiddles with the sweatshirt and shorts. "Thank you for covering me, by the way. I so was caught up in Aeron and his comments that I could barely even register what I did."

Benji shook his head. "No, I understand. I would've done the same thing if he said that. He deserved that slap and more. You're a good friend for defending Chiara."

"And you," [Name] adds, raising an eyebrow at him. "He almost called you a pimp if I hadn't slapped him fast enough."

He grinned, recalling the events earlier. "Did you see his face? He couldn't believe it wasn't me who struck first."

They both laugh at the moment, remembering the shock and horror on Aeron's face when they all realized it had been [Name] who smacked him. [Name] stared at her palm. For once she felt the anxieties of the world wash away when she told Aeron off. Like a piece of a puzzle fell into place when she defined a line.

"Either way, it drained me. Who knew going to a club does that." [Name] jokes, making Benji perk up a little.

"Its more fun when there's no pricks like Bracken around. Join us next time." He urges. [Name] only nods, not ready to protest and reason right now. Not to mention, she'd get too curious and ask about Ulla Greyjoy.

Benji seemed to have sensed her hesitation from how he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it to not comment on it as [Name] walked up the stairs. She was grateful for his silence, not sure she was ready to open that kind of box yet.

Mingling, socializing, making friends - all of this was a new concept to [Name]. The only friends she had outside of Chiara was Syrax the store cat. It was a strange feeling but it sent a buzz in her system that made her want to continue looking for it. Still, it was a scary feeling and [Name] wanted nothing more than to push it away for now, the club, the slap, and Ulla's hand on Benji's arm still fresh in her mind.

"Baby steps." [Name] whispers to herself, shutting the guest room door so she can finally let the energy from tonight wash away in the shower.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria @accidentpronedork @cafemirka @hobis-hope95 @nixtape-foryou

[werepuppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee? taglist: @yournowheregirl @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @tboygareth @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

[mingisaddctn]

unholy | j.yh

Pairing: preacher's son!yunho x reader Genre:[smut] yunho disguised as the devil brainrot Warnings: religious themes, corruption kink a/n: yea.

(also, sidenote, but it was kinda hard translating some of the christian terms bc i grew up with those but in my native language so bear w me

it always came back to that golden cross.

the token of Christ that he held around his neck, dangling on his chest as if it held the symbolism of carrying the holy figure in his heart.

ha. the irony of that.

you watched intently as the tall boy stood in the background. he didn't blend in, even with the gelled-back hair, white dress shirt and the gentle smile that was plastered all over. they all dressed the same, spoke the same, stood the same, but he somehow, his presence was the only one everyone seemed to focus on.

some could say it was the divine light that chose him, and no one would dare to oppose. how could they? not when the boy did everything to grace his image. an impeccable reputation, something not even the son of Christ himself got before meeting his end, being the towns sole preachers son almost faded in line of all the things jeong yunho was;

hard working student, star athlete, gracious volunteer, cheerful friend, sweet lover and darling son. sinful con-artist.

your father clapped alongside the people, cheering for the homily, he made sure to glance in your direction to ensure his own ego that you were being a good girl and paying attention.

he wanted you to fill those big shoes just as much as he wanted to slap your mother across the face every time she burned the food, leading her to fill another glass of wine and fall asleep alone on the couch, but still waking up earlier than everyone to pretend to be the very good wife that she was graced to be, offered just as young as you were now, by her own father, and the only thing she got in return was a sole golden cross to hang on her neck—a mark, a stamp that stated where and to whom she belonged—not your father, no.

but God.

"make sure to shake the preacher's hand" your father spat, oh-so-loyal to his master, shaking its tail as one of the sheep in the flock.

and you did. the mass had already ended when you approached the altar, under the watchful eye of the big wooden cross as you picked at your cuticles. in line, alongside your mother who held the weight of submission on her back, shrinking almost into a ball, you held your hands together waiting for your turn to thank the old man for doing his job.

"smile" your father told you.

and you did. borrowing one of the various features, doing your best impression of the good daughter, the most innocent sheep.

but the eyes of the predator followed around. to anyone, it would be just a caring gaze, but you knew what came within, the dark pair of eyes making your skin tingle and stomach churn.

you avoided it. you knew the consequences but you did anyway. you knew that later, when the blue darkened into the night and no lights would be seen within a mile radius, he would strip you out of wool, pierce your organs and drink from it as if it were the blood of Christ.

and when the birds went into hiding and dark hues shadowed the figures around, you found yourself shaking your leg frantically, looking between the clock on your nightstand and the closed window with lacy curtains that protected you so foolishly from the outside world.

it was close to time to leave when you heard the wine glass clinking downstairs. you put down the bible, shallow breaths forming inside your chest as you opened the window, jumping onto the dry grass that your father never cared to water. why would he do anything that didn't come with god's name attached to it?

approaching the same chapel you stood in this morning, you saw a faint light of an oil lamp coming from the backside, with it, came the following gaze that haunted you every other day, and you could smell the faint scent of soap in his clothes. not a wrinkle, not a stain, shirt as white as heaven, eyes as dark as sin.

he smiled as you came closer. not his usual one, but the one he reserved for those nightly escapades of yours—and your heart pounded from the knowledge that it was for you. you noticed that he was chomping on an apple, the sweet scent of the fruit adorning your nostrils as you stood idly in front of him. a small light reflected on the small piece of gold that hid on his chest.

with his hand up, he held the viciously red apple in front of your eyes. you didn't eat a lot at dinner because a fight between your parents broke out, and you were already sick from attending mass—ever since you started meeting the boy outside, sundays never felt the same—so the sight of a lustrous, full and juicy fruit did the trick on you.

you reached to grab it, but he retreated his offer.

"nuh-uh" he said. "open up."

and as a good girl, you did, allowing to be fed by the same fingers that found its way into your deepest parts. the same ones that dragged along your skin and touched wherever you claimed to be forbidden by the eyes of the lord. but how could it be so wrong? not when his touch felt that good.

yunho smiled at the sight of you biting into the fruit. you had no idea what he was thinking most of the time, but when he smiled like that, it was real.

"come" he said as he opened the back door, discarding the core on the grass. the evidence of it only being the sweet taste left on your lips, now to linger forevermore.

following him inside, you two reached the same familiar room where you grew up going in and out of. the wooden cabinets surrounding you, full of things that were meaningless without being held at the altar on sunday mornings.

the sacristy was somewhere you spent a lot of time organizing things as a volunteer, helping the altar boys and doing your part as part of the church, being the prideful gem of your community. but would they think so if they knew that your only reason to do it was so you could see more of the golden boy?

you could never lie when someone teased you about being too infatuated with the boy. your cheeks would heat up and heart would pound like crazy, to the point where you always worried if you were on the verge of dying or exploding. you first met him at the church, following him around as if he was your pastor, the one that would lead and save you.

then it was at school, but the meetings would always be brief, since he was always busy with school work or sports. you could never catch him alone, there was always crowds around him wherever he went, and you knew you fell into the category of being another one in his flock, but then he caught you staring that one sunday after mass, while he played the organ and no one was around for once.

"you always stare" he said, his voice velvety and seemingly to be something made by God's hands Himself "but you never say anything. are you scared of me?"

shaking your head, you looked down to your shoes, fingers picking at your cuticles.

you knew he was observant, too. most of the times you stared, he caught you, but he never said anything—that's how thoughtful he was, and that was one of the many things that made your young heart belong to him.

before you could even answer, your father called you from the sacristy, and you left, escaping from those warm, chocolate eyes.

but that was the day when things changed; the day he made you aware that he knew of your hobby of watching, because the next sunday, you caught him sneaking wine from one of those big wooden cabinets.

it was before mass, when you found yourself in the sacristy, opening the door without announcing, not expecting anyone to be there. but then you found the boy leaning by the entrance, drinking from the chalice as he watched you closely, his eyes never leaving you.

it shattered you on the inside. the sharp dress shirt he always wore to mass now held a deep stain by the collar, and everything about him seemed so messy. but what hurt the most was to see his eyes turn dark, something you never expected to see.

and it seemed to exhilarate him, the thought of you being the only one knowing. he knew you watched, and he wanted to give you a show.

on christmas night, when the mass would be held late, you stood behind to help clean up and organize the things from the short play held by the community. it was almost the next day and even the preacher had left, but you were folding the costumes and reassembling the scenery.

it wasn't rare for you to be alone in the church, at some point you even had the keys, but something felt eerie about that night. and then you heard a noise. it was indistinguishable at first, and you thought that someone could have returned and maybe got hurt, so you left the sacristy and went to the main hall.

now the sounds grew louder, and your heart pounded in its cage. it scared you, you thought someone might've gotten hurt, but you kept on going, trying to see where the noises were coming from.

stepping lightly, you heard another moan of what you thought was pain, coming from the confessional, the small door closed, but the sounds coming through.

"h-hello?" you called, no response.

approaching closer, your fingers held the handle and you took a deep breath, opening it slowly.

and you were met with dark eyes, the same ones that corrupted you before, the same ones who disguised themselves all this time, fooling everyone who dared to stare back. the same gaze you longed for, but now dreaded.

yunho leaned against the confessional wall, hair disheveled and the dress shirt half open. he panted, and the air inside felt heavy. moans sung by the heart shaped lips, the same ones you wondered if they were hand painted in heaven, now sounding so shameless, making sounds so sinful as he fisted his cock.

but the way your body reacted, your stomach felt like melting, and your face held too much heat. you didn't know you could sweat from other places, but your undergarments were now drenched. and that's when he grabbed your wrist, leading your hand to fall on top of his, enveloping his warm member into your palms.

you knew you were supposed to feel disgusted. you knew you were supposed to go back to your house, pray and go to sleep, but how could you when your hand was melting into his, and the noises he made when you moved your wrist were so forbidden it tasted good?

his pants became heavier and heavier, and the movements grew faster, then he spurted on your fingers and brought them to his own mouth.

seeing as you didn't move, he pulled your wrist, making your face fall closer to his, and then placed both of your fingers between your mouths, giving them a long lick, tasting his fluids.

"this is because of your staring" he claimed, placing yours and his digits into your mouth, making you jolt in shock. "do you know how hard it is to pretend not to see it?"

you did what you did best; you watched him. both of your fingers now resting on your tongue and the bitterness of his release mixing with your saliva.

"take it. prove it to me" he stared back. "prove that you want me."

it was over for you when you sucked on his skin involuntarily.

after that, he would ravish your body and sing prayers as his tongue tasted the sheen coat of sweat all over you. all week he portrayed the golden boy, the blessed child; but sundays, his mind became possessed by you.

now, back in present, he was holding the same golden chalice, signaling for you to grab the bottle of wine sitting next to you.

"will you open that for me?" he asked, voice coated in velvet that rubbed against your ears.

you took the cork off and he waited for you to serve the chalice, but before you could, he stopped himself, as if he had just gotten a new, better idea. he sat on the cushioned armchair behind the desk, pulling you closer by the hem of your thin camisole, face laying lower than yours, to the point you had to look down.

"pour me a drink, please?" you could've swore you'd seen the small, sheer glimpse of those same warm eyes for a moment. but it had to be just your mind playing tricks on you.

the boy sat under you with his fingertips grazing against your thighs as he opened his mouth, waiting for you to serve him. he knew that no matter what he asked of you, you would do it, no questions asked.

you started pouring the wine into his mouth, watching as the deep, dark liquid pooled onto his tongue as he closed his eyes, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed every last drop. mesmerized and lost in his godly features, you tilted the bottle a little more than you should, letting some of the wine drip on his skin, a small, faint line leaving its trace from the corner of his mouth to his neck.

he gave your thigh a small squeeze, and you stopped all motion as his eyes shot open, tongue licking his lower lip to not waste any alcohol.

"c'mon, darling, it's not time to make a mess yet" he laughed, the hearty laugh you grew up replaying inside your mind, giggling with your feet in the air. "clean that up now, will ya?"

you just nodded, turning on your feet to grab a napkin when he stopped you, pulling your legs closer in a quick move, making you fall onto straddling his strong thighs.

"you know what I meant by that" he watched every singular move your irises did closely, keeping track of your thoughts as if he could read them.

biting your lip, you looked at where the wine stained his cheek, and leaning forward, you gave it an experimental small lick. not daring to lean back, knowing that he wouldn't leave you alone with that following eye contact, you went lower, reaching for his neck, the tip of your tongue following the trace of a vein that stood under the fair skin.

the deep rumble of his groan trembled from your tongue to the rest of your body, accommodating itself inside your lower abdomen, a spot of wetness that began to stick to yunho's dress pants.

"I haven't even touched you properly, dear" he whispered into your ear as you kept on licking him clean "and you're already getting wet?"

your breath faltered and, ashamed, you hid your face into the crook of his neck. but he never ran from what he wanted, when he wanted—that's when you felt his long, cold fingers sliding inside your panties, the fingerprints embedded on your folds as he played around with the slick.

"y-yun—" you let out a whimper, your fingernails leaving half-crescent marks onto his shoulder.

"huh, what is it?" he asked, whispers into your ears and engraving his voice into your soul as his fingers pinched your clit, making a squeal leave your lips. "what is it that you want the most?"

you bit into his skin, chills running down your spine and cold sweat forming on your nape, could even be mistaken for a chilly breeze in the middle of that hot summer night.

when he slid a finger inside you, you could swear that your heart almost got stuck into your throat. placing your hand on top of your mouth, you tried to control the noises you were now making in union to the newly-found friction.

you found yourself nipping on your cuticles involuntarily, being too swayed by the waves of pleasure and emotional burst, but he caught it. he always did.

"oh no... you hurt yourself" he grabbed your hand with his free one, scanning it, watching as a small button of blood formed where your teeth bit into, it was a tic, you always picked at your fingers, and making it bleed wasn't news, but he seemed disappointed.

and then he put your fingers into his mouth, and sucked on the blood. eyes not leaving yours as you stared back, brows furrowed, a moan leaving the confines of your lips as you felt the texture of his tongue swirling around your digits.

with his free hand, he kept on moving, fingers in and out, pressing the sweet spot that was reserved for him, and only him. you weren't bounded by marriage, nor you thought you would be too soon, but under the severe gaze of god, you were his and he was yours.

the knot that formed on your stomach grew tighter and tighter while he sucked on your fingers and pressed inside you. the bulge in his pants causing friction when you rolled your hips desperately, using his body for your own selfish needs.

soon, the release came, washing over you as a cozy blanket of pure comfort, and you slumped onto his upper body, being held in arms as a cage, knowing that, even when he was the threat, he was the savior.

"you seem pretty found of this" he noted, and then you came to your senses to see that you were gripping to his golden cross.

leaning back, he unclasped the gold chain, the other hand that was nestled inside you left the warmth, the coldness of the slick on your panties meeting your lower lips and making you shiver slightly.

"I want you to have it" he said, placing the other hand on top of your lips, forcing them open, placing the cross on your tongue, and his wet fingers on top of it, pressing. drool began to form on the corner of your lips as you gazed at him with half lidded eyes. "god... how can you be so beautiful?"

in a quick frenzy, you suddenly found yourself on the top of the altar, legs spread and the weight of the golden cross now falling on your chest. yunho kissed your legs, leaving deep purple marks inside, places where only he could see them. he lost his dress shirt along the way, and his pants were unbuttoned, only a matter of time for him to lower his boxers to reveal the hard cock stuck in its confinements.

from where you laid, you could see the tall boy standing in front of you, and on top of him, as if to peek, was the huge wooden cross. the one last symbol you caught sight of as he entered you, the last view before falling into the depths of insanity.

his big hands sneaked under you, holding your body close to his as he moved in and out, the feeling of his cock rubbing against you making you crazier by the second. the feeling too good to be right, and the small voice inside your head that kept you pure, innocent, now was gone. you had no trace of light anymore, not when you were conjoined; not when your body melted into his.

his groans were prayers and you attended them with moans, the song of angels being made right in that moment, and nothing was holier than the way your heart thumped against his. keeping quiet wasn't an option anymore, and your whimpers soon became screams, the sound of his name echoing over and over between those walls.

you screamed, and drooled, and held onto dear life, his body being the last piece of salvation close to you, and the grasp so desperate you would think your soul was condemned. he kept on thrusting, his member hitting the same spot over and over, and the sound of your hips slapping grew louder.

you weren't you anymore. you never knew what came over your body when he fucked you, but it wasn't something holy. it trembled and shook and moved on its own, every trace of control abandoning your senses, the grasp of reality not being in sight.

"I'll make you mine" he repeated in your ear as a promise, singing it as his own psalm. "you'll be forever bound to me; to my body."

"I am yours" you babbled, not even sure if the words were clear, but he got the message as he kept on thrusting, fingers digging into your skin as his lips sucked on your neck.

and when his dark gaze met yours again, a groan run through his throat, the bundle of pleasure snapping inside you, just as his own did. the seed of his own filled your walls completely, and you smiled satisfied, mind far from your body as you were consumed by the primal urges.

now, with his golden cross wrapped around your neck and his claim slipping between your thighs, he marked you as his.

it was scary, how much you lost yourself when he touched you, scary how good it felt, scary how forbidden it was, scary how he made you feel like never before.

for as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him;

and you feared him the most.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

hmm vaggie name origin idea (au?) with twist of chaggie

where she (as per Adam later) was always in the front of the Exorcist charge, specifically always volunteering for Advance Guard duty (vanguard)

which no one else wanted bc (in this au) it meant being first out of the portal sure- but also having to check the area and secure it (in case any powerful overlord or such got an idea to try anything with an open portal to HEAVEN) and then it meant STAYING PUT until all the other Exorcists were out (the 'guard' part) when the portal could be shut until return time

(PAUSE.... can u imagine, if Sera wanted to wash her hands of the exorcists after the truth about them came out, her sending them and lute on one last extermination mission... and then just... not giving them a way to come back?)

(where was i)

NO WAIT RIGHT so vaggie (currently unnamed exorcist number whatever) she likes things neat, tidy, things done Right, and when other exorcists get pressed into vanguard duty they are LAX AS FUCK ABOUT IT and vaggie can't STAND THAT

Sooooo she ends up volunteering to be the vanguard every time- (to the point that she answers to the title even outside of training or extermination day)

which her sisters think is great for the rest of them buuuuut maybe a sign she's avoiding fighting, looking for an excuse to be late to the extermination, an excuse for lower numbers of kills, maybe a clue she's too weak stomached to stand being in hell

(reason THEY all hate van duty) (NONE of them want to look like they're avoiding aNYTHING)

(vanguard... first.... one.... wings?)

(maybe in this au, the one stripe on her wings is the vanguard's mark)

so they tease her for that- use the word for her all the time now, "hey vanguard!" shouted casually during breaks- shorten it to "Vag" (while laughing)

until vaggie (still technically unnamed exorcist number whatever) answers by settling into training with her sisters and being Efficient As Fuck with her kills once she follows them down to the city- no waste. No second hits. No time spent gloating or tormenting- One strike, one dead sinner. Over and over and over again

she starts coming back with record bodycounts while STILL volenteering to babysit the portal, and now vanguard isn't a shit role and sign of cowardice, it's a flex

(or that's how her sisters see it anyway)

a way of saying "i can kill more in less time that you can, even when you get a head start" and at THAT point they're laughing WITH her ABOUT her body count,

now it's "Vaggie" bc its a nickname, only to her it's also just her NAME and her sisters are proud of her for it-

so naturally they point her out to Adam. hype her up, show her off- look at this-! the new girl is one of the best we've ever had- and he's stoked at her numbers

(Lute, expressionless, less stoked seeing another exorcist getting so much attention and getting so close to- or beating- her own records- Lute the reason Adam didn't hear about this before, devoted to her role as Adam's second in command and watching with sharp eyes as someone else gets singled out and praised instead-)

Adam, wondering out loud what Vaggie's name is as he looks her over.

Vaggie going to answer "Sir, my name is-" getting casually cut off "Ah-bup-bup! I'm thinking of one, chill for a sec."

bc of course Adam loves leaving his mark on stuff

and she's one of HIS girls after all

she stands at attention while he gives her a new name "VAGINA! After the BEST THING EVER since that's what you are, huh girl? Best sinner slayer we've EVER had, WOOO!" (Lute, not joining in the woo-hoos) and Vaggie's sisters cheer and shove her, grinning,

only they stop calling her "Vaggie" except on extermination day-

but to herself, Vagina isn't her name.

It's just a stamp of approval from her commanding officers. Inside, she never stops being Vaggie. The Vanguard. First one out the gate, keeping an eye on things, making sure it goes smoothly for her sisters

(the mixed feelings of feeling the most like herself on extermination day, finally getting to hear her name again- and the frustration of watching her sisters treat their duty like some game)

(but they taught her and trained with her and cheered for her, and so she'll finish off the sinners they maim and if her mask feels suffocating sometimes and never grins the way her sisters' do as they cull the sinful hoards of hell, well, she'll just take it off and take a breath and get back to killing, she'll remember how they also smile and salute while flying past her on the way home afterwards- proud of her, proud of her)

Vaggie is the exorcist who made THEM, not Adam, proud

(up until she isn't one of them anymore) (but she was once)

she was and always will HAVE been that, the women who wanted to make sure her sisters and heaven were both safe well guarded from harm-

that's the same woman who couldn't kill a child

and who fell in love with demon with a heart kinder than any angel's

it's Vaggie that Charlie meets, not any girl of Adam's.

maybe also it's Charlie who someday hears, in quiet voice years later, in a rebuilt hotel watching cannibals clean up the last of their dead exorcist meals-

maybe she hears Vaggie whisper how she never let herself hope but still also always stupidly wished, deep down, that she could be the vanguard to her former sisters again-

the first one of them to turn on heaven, the one to clear the way and get things ready so the rest could someday follow...

....and maybe Charlie hugs her, hearing this, as they watch the blood of Vaggie's dead sisters getting dabbed delicately away like golden pasta sauce as the cannibals finish dinner-

maybe Charlie hugs her harder and closer knowing what it's like to still care about people who aren't good... and then to have have your heart ripped out watching them die, on heaven's command, nothing you can do to stop it, them just gone forever right before your eyes-

before you ever got your chance to help them. to save them

(Charlie would promise that they'll try anyway)

(and sure "those angels minds are hard to change", she knows how true that is now.... but....as far as she's concerned....)

(Vaggie being there with her is more than enough hope for anyone)

[fillinforlater]

The Gamer and the Pornstar

Male Reader x Miyawaki Sakura, Song Hayoung

Length: 3725 words

Tags: one-night-stand turned porn turned friendship, gaming buddies, shy yet prepared, ANAL, missionary, GAPING, anal creampie, slow sex, love making, SLW, making out, extremely loud moaning, cumshots?

TW: barely edited, kind of rushed

Inspiration: @gangplanksorenji and @praeluxius because you know: GAPE KKURA and SLW gang

(A/N: This popped up in my mind and for some reason was easier to write than all my other drafts. An almost plotless mess mess mess mess mess, but I hope you enjoy it.)

“Hey, you wanna come over?”

It all started a couple of months ago, when an adorable young lady tapped on your shoulder. Her name was Hayoung and she immediately started to shower you with compliments. Your body's imminent reaction was to blush and increase your heart rate, but after a while you assumed there was a catch. Your intuition was right.

“Thank you for all the kind words,” you said. “But I bet you’re not doing this just to brighten my day at this boring-ass party.”

“You’re right,” Hayoung responds with a huge smile on her small face. “Let me be blunt—”

Oh, she was blunt. Hayoung, you see, is a self-made porn star, using a brand new site called Only Fans to promote her lewd, addictive videos (her words). However, she needs to spice things up, try different sizes and girths in her holes, so she is going around and finding attractive guys who’d like to help her (once again, her words).  

Hayoung, pretty and pure looking, it all changed with every new word dropping from her lips like the pin of a grenade before she exploded onto you, arms wrapped around your nape, her lips on yours. You turned into the Flash: in the blink of an eye you found yourself in her apartment, balls deep in her cunt, surrounded by two cameras. Hayoung loved to moan and scream over the top, the neighborhood surely knew of her new hobby right from the get go, and she had them all inside her (her words, her stupidly lewd words). 

Needless to say, you had a great time, and after wrapping up the shooting, you wanted to leave the apartment. The mind-blowing sex with Hayoung really had your mind blown, because instead of taking the exit, you entered another bedroom. Hayoung was sharing the apartment with someone else, a poor roommate who had to listen to the endless amounts of sex coming from the walls behind her.

To block off all the noise she was wearing a large headset and her entire focus was on this game, League of Legends. You were familiar with the game and started watching her. She must not have noticed you, even when you inched closer as the game got more intense. Her defense was on point, the towers did not fall until one of her chips-grease covered fingers slipped off and she eventually lost.

Both of you sighed—and then she started screaming as she finally noticed your presence. That’s how you met Sakura.

“I’ll be there in 10.”

#

You put your ear on the door. No screaming, no moaning. Either Hayoung is trying out choking or a ball gag or she is not shooting anything today. The last one is the least likely, yet you still give it a shot and knock a couple of times. Quick taps of tiny feet can be heard.

“Hello you guys—oh, it’s just you,” she sighs in disappointment, the horniness on her face vanishing in a moment's notice.

“Nice to see you, Hayoung,” you sarcastically respond and make your way past the small girl. “I see, you’re waiting for someone.”

“Yeah, but not for you. You’re only hanging around with Sakura-unnie all the damn time.”

“Hey! I thought you wanted to try new cocks all the time.”

Before you can reach the door to Sakura’s room, Hayoung grabs your wrist and stamps your foot. It does not hurt one bit, as her feet are naked (to be honest, she is almost fully naked, except for shorts that barely cover 80% of her ass and a bikini top to show of her small breasts) and you’re still wearing shoes.

“That does not mean you couldn’t be useful to me,” Hayoung whispers sultrily, her fingers fiddling with your zipper, pulling it down and up. 

“I think I’ll pass for now. Don’t wanna keep your Unnie waiting,” you respond and remove her hand without resisting the temptation to feel more of the silky smooth skin on her arm.

“If you’re not gonna undress for me, at least take off your shoes for her.”

“S-sure, sorry.”

Kick them off then kick in the door. The way Sakura jumps always amuses you. Her shocked expression with huge, round eyes and a wide open mouth is just gold.

"Stop doing that!" she shouts and quickly turns back to her game. Sakura looks tiny in the gaming chair, the black fabric swallowing both her pale skin and white outfit. Her raven hair is a tangled mess, weaving through every possible opening of her pink headphones. 

"How is it going?" you ask and lean onto the table, something she despises and you know that. Luckily, there are no more snacks next to her colorful keyboard. Living off of chips and chocolate could have really ruined her health, so you had to help her get rid of this habit.

What she won't get rid of is the large bottle of Pepsi. You tried to convince her of drinking water, but she wouldn’t budge a centimeter on that. Even Pepsi Maxx seems to be a no-go for her, so the dark, sugary liquid still sits on her table—until you close the lit and hide it behind your back.

“Put it back,” Sakura barks, eyes switching in between your face and the match in rapid intervals. She taps her feet in annoyance, you grin.

“Only if you answer me~” you tease her.

“It’s been going good, until you joined. We are four thousand gold ahead, everything is working, so please, don’t ruin this for me.”

You put your hands up in defeat and place the bottle back down. Then everything happens rather quickly: Sakura stands up and you immediately get on her chair, spread your legs far enough so the japanese girl can get in between them and she does so. Just a second, Sakura’s rhythm is not interrupted as the team fight starts. 

“Let’s get it,” you whisper, while Sakura still adjusts herself on your lap. The two of you, though there might be a lot of bickering on the outside, have become a coordinated team. After that fateful incident a couple of months ago, you came over more often to watch Sakura play. She was very talented, but her erratic behavior has led to her losing games she should have won, so you started to assist her.

Sakura sits on your lap. This has multiple reasons. One is that you can easily hand her something to drink while she still has both her hands occupied with the game. The second is that you can easily grab her and keep her down when she has one of her outbursts again. Sakura is used to jumping up from her chair and then lose control and focus on her character. To prevent that, you can hold her light frame down. The final reason is that after a while, Sakura finds your lap more comfortable than the chair. 

Why did you agree to taming this small lioness during her gaming sessions? For starters, Sakura is gorgeous. Her face, her body, everything is pretty and basically perfect, Who wouldn’t like to have her sit on their lap? Then comes her impeccable smell. Ever since you got rid of the greasy snacks, Sakura’s true odor of sweet sweat and even sweeter cherries has you in a dazed state.

This is your favorite job. You can’t help but smile stupidly while handing Sakura another drink or adjusting her posture, while watching an intense match of your favorite game. It’s literally perfect. If only someone could turn down the volume of Hayoungs porny moans coming from her room—who are you kidding, she sounds hot. 

“Okay, let’s go to the base. Thirty more seconds of buff, go go!”

Sakura is winning. You try everything in your power to keep it that way. Your hands find their way to her slim waist, holding it firmly so she doesn’t stand up. On some days, she wears a crop top, exposing her amazing midriff, which makes holding onto her like an ascend to heaven. Sadly, she only wears a pretty, yet modest dress so you have to live with feeling silk rather than silky skin.

“A couple more hits, come one!” 

Wrap your arms around Sakura as she almost flies off the chair in enthusiasm. Even as her teammates die at the hits of the enemy, she is able to close out the game with fantastic gameplay. Although you could let her go the second she closed out the game, you still hold her tight and she falls backwards onto your chest.

“Good job, Kkura,” you say with a smile as she struggles to get her headphones off. Her messy black hair falls over her face like drapes and the way she frees her vision is beyond beautiful. Sakura is a goddess, she plays, looks and smells like one. 

“You weren’t so bad either. Thank you,” she responds and stays. She does not stand up or shift away. She stays in your tight embrace. 

“S-so shall we—”

“Fuck, yes! Fill my pussy with your big cocks, ah!”

You can feel your cheeks burning. Sakura’s are doing the same. Hayoungs never ending screams of pleasure make the two of you tense up in awkwardness. You’d love to say something witty, but everything feels so wrong, especially with how your fantasy leaps into dangerous territory.

“Sh-she is unbelievable,” Sakura laughs awkwardly. “She said something about inviting t-t-ten guys a-and… yeah.”

“She is crazy.”

More silence from you and Sakura, while a whole choir of guys starts to groan in the background, only interrupted by Hayoungs demand for rougher, faster, deeper sex.

“Yes, fuck my ass! Stretch my hole with your—yes, right there! I’m cumming!”

Sakura melts in your grip. The word cumming has her dazed, you can see it in her expression when she looks up at you. Her round, puppy eyes have narrowed in desire and you feel her butt rub over your crotch, intentionally feeling more of your cock and making it erect.

“I-I always wondered,” she suddenly whispers, unable to hold eye contact with you. “How this w-would feel.”

“How what f-feels?” you ask her, unable to focus as she suddenly starts to face you and reveals a lot of cleavage. Wait, is she even wearing a—

“L-like… ha-having sex in th-the—

“In my b-butt…”

You have never seen Sakura so abashed, so uncertain about something. She looks fragile, a shy girl who is incapable of asking for what she really wants because it’s so lewd, so wrong. At the same time, she is already all over you, not even wearing a bra. Her hands are on your chest, you can easily pull her closer, yet your heart forces you to ask away.

“Why… why are you thinking that?”

“I-I just wondered because… when I lost my vi-virginity… Hayoung showed me how to ride th-this guy. My-my first was not that big, b-but Hayoung couldn’t stop. I-it was very… and then he put it in her… butt.”

Sakura hides her flushed face, but continues nonetheless.

“I have never s-seen a girl c-cum s-so hard.”

“So… you want to t-try it?” you carefully ask, hands still on her waist, eyes fixed on the opening of her dress. Her small, bare breasts with dark pink areolae look like a feast and her also small, not (yet) bare waist fits perfectly into your hands.

Sakura peeks through the gaps in between her fingers and takes deep breaths. “Yes, I want to try it. With you. I-I don’t want to wait any longer, please… say yes.”

You try not to smile stupidly and carefully nod. Sakura lowers both her hands, one weakly squeezes the growing bulge in your pants, while the other reaches for her drawer. In it you eye a surprising amount of condoms, douching devices and lube containers. Sakura reaches for one of them. 

“D-don’t worry,” she stutters. “I did s-some preparation.”

“Can I see?” you ask without thinking. Rationale is a steadily decreasing factor in your decision making, especially because Hayoung continues to moan with all the power her vocal cords have. She could have been a great singer—

“S-sure.” Sakura gets off of you and reaches underneath her dress. She pulls down slutty, soaked panties that only Hayoung would wear (if she wears any underwear at all). Hesitantly, she spins around and her fingers dig into the hem of her dress, her knuckles turning white.

“You don’t have to, you know?” you chuckle and take the container before any of the clear liquid will be spilled out through Sakura’s digits. Your attempt to relieve her of some pressure seems laughable with Hayoung’s crescendo reaching yet another overhyped climax.

“No!” Sakura rebuts, a pull sending her dress up and exposing her most private part, a smooth, shaven nether region and a firm, spreadable butt. Why spreadable? Because even a somewhat timid Sakura can’t help but pull apart her ass cheeks to show you what’s in between. “My-my fingers, the toys—they are not enough. I-I need you.”

Your cock threatens to break through your pants at the sight, the smell, the absurdity. Is this the b-plot to Hayoung’s porn? A slow burn scene only now reaching its final destination? Things developing at a snail's pace and now the tip of your fingers are almost in her flesh and your tip is almost in her lubed rear end? You can’t complain about this movie. 

“Now?” you ask, a final stern facade to hide your desire.

“Yes, please,” Sakura’s last, final, ultimate whimper, her lower lip tucked underneath her teeth in a bite to sever all doubts—

Wrap an arm around Sakura, her slutty little waist perfect in your hold before you let go and send her backwards on her bed. The disconnect between your bodies is not for long; one hand is already hiking up her dress further, the other is in her marvelous strands while your knees only start to make contact with the mattress.

Sakura sinks back, laying down into her pillows and your hands exploring everywhere but her stimulating spots, yet your touch and longing alone make her feel a bliss that numbs her feet, her legs, her arms. They all become idle as you spread apart her knees and get in between them, still fully clothed. 

When your lips suddenly initiate a feverish attack on her jaw, she can’t hold back. More of you, more of you—her dizzy eyes jump open and her fingers find ways to permanently reveal your body. Your bare chest is only a breath away from hers, her crotch almost on yours. You smile down at her.

“You want me this badly, Kkura~?” you tease and rub a circle on her thigh with your stupidly hard cockhead. Sakura’s soles swirl in the air, her entire body flooding with heat.

“Be careful, please.”

Her fingers sneak to her ass once more, this time showing off exactly where she wants it. The puckered entrance is not only clean, hell, even prepared would be an understatement to how inviting her hole is. Sure, the pussy above it looks fabulous, oh-so tempting to fill up and make endless love to, but the there is an unbridled thrill to the way Sakura’s asshole lightly clenches and relaxes and clenches and relaxes and—

Align yourself. Stop yourself. Sakura’s lips tremble more than the rest of her small frame. Place your elbows on each side of her head to gaze at her beauty, maybe find out what’s wrong by the glassiness of her eyes. 

“Kiss me already,” she husks.

“But I want to see your face while I do it,” you whisper.

Sakura mewls, all ten of her sweaty fingers on your lower back as she locks eyes with you. No further instructions, this is where all your knowledge ends and you can only act due to instinct. Push your hips forward, slowly, but with force to get your swollen tip into the tight hole. 

Sakura’s lips part wide open, her eyes are even wider. Her short, yet pointy nails find their way under your skin, creating a pool of pain in your lower back that you have to push through. The way she wraps snuggly around your cock negates all the pain elsewhere. Half way in, you grit your teeth and see Sakura doing the same. She is certainly in pain.

“Relax,” you whisper between profound breaths.

“K-kiss me!” she demands and you let your face finally sink to hers. In wanton need she offers her tongue and you take it for a ride, pushing it around in her mouth in a tornado-like kiss. The torrential pace tears out tension from Sakura’s body, first her limbs, then her face and finally, her insides relax. It’s a gradual process in which you become well acquainted with Sakura’s mouth, making it entirely yours.

“You feel so good,” you compliment her when your lips disconnect. “Did I ever tell you that—”

“Shh, not now,” Sakura interjects with a smile. “C-can you start… now?”

“Sure~”

For the first time since the initial penetration, you move your hips backwards, dragging your cock alongside Sakura’s lubed walls. It’s a lewd sound, a sound only the two of you can hear because Hayoung once again trumps it with her scream, though there is clearly a cock in her mouth. 

When only your tip remains inside her, you gently grab her tiny waist and begin to both push in and pull her towards you. Sakura melts into the mattress, her sweaty body becoming one with it, one with yours when you gradually fill her with more of your inches. You stop before the final one and the two of you groan straight into the other's face, eyes closed, deeply satisfied.

Or not?

“M-more,” Sakura whispers, one of her arms loosely around your nape, the other moving over her midriff to her pussy. “I want all of you.”

And you want all of her all over your dick. So you push in, further than any of her toys, girthy, pulsating; you’re close to losing your mind over her incredible body and marvelous insides. Sakura gets everything she asked for, your sack is already crazing her buttocks and in a drawn out moan, you know that she does not regret asking. 

“Kkura, I can’t—”

“D-don’t stop, fill me aga—”

She gives you a hint of permission and you take it. Like her body is just a light fleshlight, you take her slutty little waist and slam her slutty little asshole on your length to force screams from her slutty little mouth. You want Sakura to succumb to the same pleasure as you, yet she still finds a way to give you more leverage, an easier time to fuck her rear end. 

Hayoung’s porny sounds are nothing anymore to the sheer lewdness of you pistoning back and forth along lubed walls and Sakura rubbing her clit manically. You and Sakura suddenly start to lick all over the other person. It’s devouring the other without hurting them, consuming more of them without having to stop the grabbing and thrusting, both increasing their pace. 

There is a perfect rhythm, which is no rhythm at all. Switch from slow thrusts and biting her collarbone to stopping it all together and just feeling her flex and struggle around to suddenly go all out for dozens of hits that make her eyes disappear in the back of her head. Sakura is the same, her fingers rubbing her clit then two of them disappearing into her pussy for a quick double penetration, before suddenly invading your mouth. She tastes even better than she smells. Impossible.

“I’m—”

Sakura’s moan is cut short by you jerking her clit side to side. Her orgasm pulsates through her body, initiated from both her deeply penetrated asshole and her continuously flicked nub. To your surprise, she is rather quiet, unlike her roommate who never stops shouting out her pleasure. Sakura instead goes for your lips, loving biting your lower lip, evoking groans out of you. 

You realize there is nowhere to go, it’s either you cum now or you’ll be painfully blueballed, so you fold Sakura further, slam down harder and watch her narrow eyes release tears of pleasure. Everything goes quiet, except for skin slapping on skin and you groaning your final words right into her ear:

“F-fuck, I’ll fill you up, Kkura. I’m gon—”

Your vision blurs to white lick a bad transition during a powerpoint presentation. You feel Sakura’s butt squeezing out your sperm in multiple massive dumps that make her warm deep inside. But that’s not the only thing she squeezes tightly: her arms are wrapped around your upper body, forcing it onto her sweaty tits and you want to mold into her, to become one. 

Only after your final droplet of cum is inside Sakura’s ass, you slowly pull and while caressing her buttocks, you feel a lot of you running out of her. She giggles in embarrassment.

“Gu-guess you spread me pretty good.”

“Ye-yeah.”

You can’t help yourself but look at the mess you made out of her hole. It’s utterly gaped, endlessly oozing your load onto the bedsheets with her body only supported by your arms on her thighs. 

“That was great,” Sakura sighs, still out of breath. “We need to clean up though.”

Suddenly, someone goes apeshit on Sakura’s door, banging it like the drumset of a metal band.

“Hey! Hey! I know you’re inside there! I need your help, quick!” Hayoung shouts at the top of her lungs. It baffles you how she still can after all the ‘performing’ she’s been doing in the last couple of minutes.

“Uhm… bad timing,” you respond and quickly cover Sakura with a blanket. “U-unless the house is burning down, I won’t open this—”

“I need someone to cum on me, for a cumshot scene! I know you have one in you for me, please, quick!” Hayoung begs. In front of your inner eye you can see her, glazed in cum running down her entire lewd body, yet there is one part of her face not yet properly covered. Maybe one of the guy shot blanks—

You look at Sakura, her gaping hole, your thick creamy load on the bed sheets. 

Yeah, you won’t be of any help for her today.

[crickets-aphtism-space]

Line ups!!!

i have my reasons as to why they're in vacation attire, i swear these aren't just starlight redesigns LMAO

more hcs + alt versions below the cut!!

Aph shaved the right side of her head with Zane, cause he was nervous of doing it by himself (but if anyone asks, she did it cause she thought it looked cool.)

Katelyn and Dante both have phoenix tattoos, they aren't matching or anything they just both thought they were cool. Katelyn's is small just above her right thigh but Dante's is one that goes over his back.

Aaron always wears his bandana. in my brain he's never been able to control his eyes.

Kim works at a library with Zane, and they have this weird friendship where they don't really know each other but talk every so often while the library's quiet.

Lucinda was born with feint markings all over her body, but they grew more vibrant as she developed her witchcraft

Travis was also born with witchcraft markings, but he chooses to hide them. you know, until starlight.

Aaron has absolutely no sense of style

Zane has a tramp stamp tattoo he got when he was drunk LMAO. hes also got a semicolon tattoo on the left side of his neck

This isn't even a headcannon, I was gonna put Garroth and Katelyn in matching shirts but then I realised that it would probably just look like Garroth stole her shirt KJFSJKDF

zane straightens his hair. and the head damage is BAD he has like 2C hair that hes been straightening WET.

Kim's had long hair her whole life, and never really wanted to change it. but then one day Lucinda offered to get it cut and dyed for her to 'up her confidence' and honestly she really likes it :3

Travis can shapeshift, he's always been able to but pre-starlight it was just simple things, like changing his hair hiding certain aspects of himself. but after he's able to do a lot more (he just doesn't really like to.)

Dante can dance he does hip hop mainly (NO I AM NOT BIASED!!)

now, for last names. Katelyn Fortin - Fortin, meaning Strong. Dante Leto - Leto, meaning hidden. or Forgotten. Lucinda Hawthorne - I feel like this ones self explanatory LMAO Kim Navon - Navon, meaning Wise. Aphia Dea'Matrona - Aphia; excellent, most important. Dea'Matrona; Dea matrona is the spanish translation of 'The Matron'

Alt Drawings!!

[simp-ly-writes]

Friend of the Captain (pt.2)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Reader

Summary: Years had past since you had last seen Eddie. Doctor, CEO and soon to be girlfriend of another man. You end up seeing him at Freddy and Tammy's wedding yet other forces keep pulling your both away from admitting to your feelings. What will it take for one of you to see the truth?- as Charlotte ever so indelicately puts it.

Warnings: 3755 words, utter jealousy, language, and light teasing, angst to potential fluff and lots and lots of pining.

A/N: I have watched an unhealthy amount of edits while on dinner break- I must be stopped (gods i'm supposed to be on break!)- this is way longer than I was expecting it to be, perhaps even a part three...

Masterlist | Taglist | somewhat un-edited.

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ Years had past since you had last seen Edward. You still kept in contact with his siblings and his mother, of course. Lady Sabrina refused to let you go- often sending various treats and letters towards your family's estate, you called her ever other week with updates to your studies, travels, and love life. Your mother teasingly voiced her jealousy towards her best friend choosing her own daughter over her best friend.

↳ You often joined the older ladies out for a dinner or lunch with Charlotte tagging along when she was not in school (yet you would never tell Charlotte's parents otherwise to you signing her out as a trusted guardian and taking her even out of the country some weekends). Clicking your glasses together while looking down upon the busy London streets, you smirked seeing someone wearing a piece of yours from across the street.

Tugging at your mothers dress-sleeve she trued around in her seat, grasping your hand in a tight squeeze of excitement and pride as her wrist glittered in your newest bracelet collection. After finishing your PHD of Business Administration you took a fake name to hide your identity for the public and papers for as long as you could. You often blushed now- seeing your face on gossip articles with your date of the evening.

Dinner tonight was a celebration of your recent contract with an up-and-coming movie star- he would be wearing your necklaces on the red carpet by the end of the week. A bottle of bubbly, bubbled your laughter to the surface as they all screamed in your ear, jumping up and down and clapping their hands in the restaurant as you ducked your head, trying to stray away from the attention.

↳ Unknowing to you though is that your's and Edward's mother collected all the gossip magazines, continuing their bet as Sabrinas heart fell every time you looked so in love with your new partner. Charlotte would often make side comments about your "slut era" she called it as you knocked her shoulder with your own, rolling your eyes before your mother swatted your shoulder at the dinner table and insisted on maintaining appearances in the public eye.

--

↳ When inside your studio-office space, drafting up new designs with your creative team. You spun around of your chair and became shocked when you eventually rolled back around to find a wax-sealed envelope with the Halstead crest so beautifully stamped. Peeling away the wax as carefully as you could, the thick, textured paper settled nicely between our hands as you read through the invitation. Tears beginning to well in your eyes before you were squealing in Freddy's ear through the desk-phone as he winced and handed the phone over to Tammy. Both laughing over your childish excitement to their own wedding.

↳ You called the brainstorming off early, rushing to help Tammy find just the right dress later that afternoon as she thanked you for assisting with the wedding planing (already fed up with Lady Sabrina's input into the event- though she was funding a large portion of it due to Freddys... interesting resume).

↳ Wedding dress shopping happened later that spring as you teared up seeing the woman in white. Helping her into your exclusively design accessories and veil. Later that day, you third-wheeled the couple during cake testing- eating double of your weight in sweets as your teeth ached afterwards.

↳ During the bridal party. You all got dressed up in small red dresses and matching heels as you style one another's hair and got your nails done for the evening. You all went to a bar to start of the week strong, you had never felt so carefree and young after the countless sleepless nights of being a CEO and Doctorate student- you really let yourself go that night. Waking up in the bed of a stranger who wrapped their muscled arm over your waist.

Trying to wiggle your way out of their grip and find your various articles of clothing spread round the downtown flat, you ended up stealing one of their shirts- not bothering to look at the design plastered on the front as you placed your phone on to charge and started breakfast.

The oven dinged, the eggs were done as you put out a spread across the countertop before doing a light clean of last nights activities- doing your best to put away things where you thought they belonged and were stopped halfway by an arm pulling you back into their chest and placing a kiss against your forehead, "thank you, love. Didn't have to do any of this at all- I appreciate it very much."

A blush spread over your cheeks as you led them towards the still hots plates and ate together. There name was William from your foggy memories of last night. By the groaning the man in front of you was excepting while pouring himself a coffee, he seemed as well wasted as you were.

"Can I get you any Advil or orange juice?" William asks, placing a coffee in front of you with a smile as you wipe your mouth and take a small sip. "No, I'm alright." When washing up the dishes together, he offered to place your things in the wash while making small talk throughout and even going for a round three later that morning.

Becoming lost in the bubble you both formed for yourselves, hands casting through the short strands of dirty blonde hair that tickled your palms. Your heart dropped in the slightest bit when his phone rang as a show you were both listening to in the background was paused. He whispered a sorry towards you, patting your knee before taking a stand and walking over to the bedroom, you could only hear the start to the conversation, "Captain, everythin' alright?"

Deeming yourself overstaying your welcome, you walked towards the hall bathroom, preparing yourself for the next day and left a small note with your name attached, softly shutting the door behind you before leaning your forehead against it. A stupid smile showing itself across your features as your hands drifted through your contacts, landing on Charlottes picture as it dinged for a few moments.

"Girl, where the fuck have you been since last night?"

"I think I'm in love Char," you stated while the elevator doors closed behind you and the busy city streets awaited you.

--

↳ In the remaining days of the bridal party, you all rented out a vineyard, playing various lawn games with sunbathing by the pool. You subconsciously looked up towards the glass doors of the modern home- unknowing of what you were expecting before returning to your book, humming along to the radio as Tammy splashed you with her dive. Drawing a quick 10 score on your phones notes app and presenting it to her, Charlotte snorted and did a dive of her own as you all laughed and enjoyed the warm weather.

--

↳ Your did frown later that night when William had yet to text you, throwing your phone onto the bed. You really have to get yourself together, you thought to yourself- waiting here on some guy... some guy that treated me fairly. And in this day and age, it was a rare sight to find. Charlotte had already given you a major thumbs up as did the rest of your university friends and some of the past boyfriends you still kept in contact with. They all approved.

↳ Looking into your suitcase, you picked up Williams freshly washed shirt- you had forgotten to return it as your head drifted towards your phone. A perfect excuse to see him once more, your fingers drifted over the keys, breath paused on the send button before tapping the green arrow in a split second. Your adrenaline soared as you ruffled your hair, huffing out and looking at the shirt once more.

Your fingers drifted over the warn edges, pausing at the left breast pocket before your eyes went wide in shock. Displayed was the same coat of arms as Eddies regiment, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. Was all you could think, hands now gripping at your roots as that text now burred your phone and your mind. It was the night before the wedding at by the looks of it, you were going to be up with your thoughts.

--

↳ The day of the wedding at arrived, you smoothed out your dress as you waited in front of the large wooden doors to the Halstead estate. The wedding was being held in the gardens- now in full bloom as the first week of summer sprang into season. The blush pink complimented your rosy cheeks as you sweated lightly in the blissful heat, everyone had already been partnered up and as the maid of honour- you were more than worried that Freddy's best man had yet to appear

Much to your shock, Edward slowed his steps, feet tripping over the blood red rug beneath your feet as he stumbled to a straight stand by your side. He dropped his gaze down towards your shoes, taking a long drag up of your form before casting you a charming smile. The voices around you soon became muffled as your gaze fell onto his broad shoulders, the scar against his chin and you wondered if the scar you left from throwing a rock at his head while children's was still behind his ear in the same place you remembered it to be.

He wore a navy suit, crisp white shirt underneath as his tie held small pink flowers- perfectly matching your dress. He picked up your hand, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a light kiss to your gloved hand. You were ever-so thankful for purchasing the matching gloves in this moment, holding that the material hid your light shakes from his reassuring hold. His hand soon slipped up your arm. Breath hitching as strings began to play in the background.

His fingers drifted to the skin left uncovered by your tall gloves and dresses arm before looping his arm with your own. The doors soon opened as you both faced forward, smiles plastered on brightly as you walked in perfect rhythm down the isle. You looked towards one another, a few gasps being hear distantly in the crowd yet you couldn't bring your eyes to see where the sound came from. Arms dropping as you continued separately to your respective sides.

Looking up towards the clear blue skies, letting out a breath, your gaze turned to find Freddy looking at you, soft smile on his face as he gave you a singular nod before turning to his wife who began her walk down the isle. You took her bouquet, tears streaming down your eyes as you silently sobbed in happiness for the couple.

You clapped when they kissed, cheered as Freddy dipped her as Lady Sabrina tossed a comment on their outrageous display yet you haded her the bouquet as she shut her mouth abruptly, turning quickly behind to stare at your mother who was already watching as you and Eddie walked down the isle, arm and arm. Your gaze solely focused on the couple, unknowing to the man on your arm who stared at you the whole time- enamoured by your happiness as another stood in the back isle's, rose in hand they stole from the gardens as they waited for the festivities to start.

--

↳ As the first dance had finished and the cake had been cut, the DJ started to turn on the selected playlist and you headed straight to the bar in order to hug the newly weds who had a mission of getting absolutely wasted by the end of the night. After chatting with them for a few moments, a cough from behind you has your eyes going wide as does everyone else in the general area who stops to watch

You pause, drink slipping through your fingers as they catch it just in time with a smirk. "Hello, love," William speaks in hushed tones, knowing of the curious glances around you. Your eyes fly across the white warm-event weather uniform he wears. The sharp colour of his blue pants matching his eyes as your mouth soon falls agape. He takes a hand, lightly underneath your chin as he closes your mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of your lips.

Your eye's drift over to his shoulder, looking at his rank as you return a kiss to his cheek in greeting, now taking the barstool behind you as he leans against the bar top, taking his hat off and setting it between you. "Why hello there, Lieutenant," you say before taking a sip of your drink to gain some liquid courage as the eyes around you both begin to turn back to their personal conversations.

"You know my rank?" he questions with a raised brow as you shrug your shoulders. "Have close friends in the military as well, memorized all that chest candy," you state, eyes now darting across the metals he displays. Williams chuckles, ordering himself a drink as the bartender nods in confirmation as you both ease into conversation with one another.

--

↳ Eddie currently talks with his family as Freddy perks his interest. "Did you see that guy she's been talking to at the bar?- dude is seriously laying it on thick." Freddy rolls his eyes as you throw your head back in laughter, hand pressed against the white uniform as the man looks down to your touch with another teeth-filled smile. Charlotte shrugs, stealing a sip of Eddies drink as their mother quickly steals the wine glass from her and returns it to Eddies open hand who tries to peer over Freddys shoulder as he continues on and on about the bachelor party he had.

Eddies eyes go wide, seeing the white uniform, seeing you pressed up against another mans chest as he spins you lightly, eyeing you up and down and how your dress twirls at your feet as you get both of your glass topped off once more. His gaze hardens as he catches Williams face, his arm drifting around your waist, mouth pressed to your ear as he kisses your skin teasingly- eyes darting towards the door as you look up at him through your lashes.

Eddie's hands turn into fists, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to take a step forward yet Freddy still mindlessly talks as nobody is now listening as Charlotte begins to fill their mother in as she looks towards her son with concern. Hand ghosting on his arm that he has yet to take notice of. He watches as you bite your lip, pulling at his collar as you trace the seams of his uniform. Eddie lets out a sharp breath of air as he seems your lipstick begin to stain his skin, his mothers hand now tight against his arm as he stares down at it.

Charlotte shakes her hand, Sabrina now walking away to talk to your mother sat in the corner conversing with Tammy's parents. Freddy had finally taken notice of the lack of attention, returning to his wife's side as they stole bites from the cake before the official cutting. When Eddie turns back to see where you went, the bar is empty the door swinging closed as he speedily walks towards the hall only to find it empty both ways. As he begins to walk, a cough has him turning around to find Charlotte taking off her heels as she leans against the wall next to a suit of armour.

"Thought that you two were not together, no feelings right?" she presses, gaze determined as she slips off the last of her heels and begins to walk towards her brother who's shoulders only rise in their tensed form. He shakes himself off as she stands directly in front of him, shaking off his suit as he adjusts his suit-cuffs. "No, still is the case- just worried for my childhood friend is all."

"Alright, then..." Charlotte takes notice as his eyes keep darting back down the hall behind her, hope and hatred bleeding through his eyes as she smirk's, going in for the jab. "...If thats all you care about, he's a good man- that not right Captain?- They fucked a few times..." Charlotte presses her heels into her brothers chest as he keeps them there. His sister signals him to follow her outside as they begin to stroll towards the gardens all those Christmas's ago.

"She even told me she's in love with him-"

"What?" Edward asks in a breathy tone, his heart dropping as his sister continues walking further into the gardens and towards the centre fountain. "I warned you before Edwina, she's too good to have to wait so others take action. You had your time with her it seems, now it is time for someone else to take your place." She ends with a bittersweet smile. "You know... I always hoped she would become my actual sister- mom too but a best friend is better than nothing at all, right?"

The sharpness of her words twists itself deep in Edwards heart as he staggers, shoes dropped to the gravel beneath his feet, hands clenching at his tie that now seems too tight, his breathing laboured as he starts to see blood flashing on his hand and across his face. He hears your laughter filling his ears, the smell of your conditioner flooding his nose as it drifts off with the evening air.

--

↳ When Eddie returns to his work on boarder patrol, checking various people and their cars through the checkpoint. He enters the change-room at the end of every night, giving a nod and handing off his gun towards another officer who would be taking over the night patrol that evening.

↳ He often see's William changing as he enters, his shift ending 30 minutes before his own. He looks at the mans back, the angry red ail marks clawing their way up to his shoulders as the muscles his his back flex when a shirt covers up majority of the markings yet this shirt is old and warn. Having lost a great deal of his green colour, now a muted muddy colour as the neck hands low.

↳ Edward see's the the hickeys you undoubtedly left across his collarbones and neck, he recognizes that bite from the occasional moment you both shared as teenagers. William nods towards his superior officer outside of working hours. Picking up his jacket before moving to the sleeping quarters. Eddie sits on the centre bench, elbows against his knees, hands in his head as he grips and tugs at his hair. Frustration eating him alive as he imagines your touch, your lips against his own, the taste of your skin-

↳ Every day the same, every vacation time taken at a similar point as he notices a year afterwards the diamond ring hanging off Williams dog tags. He constant has been looking at it underneath his uniform throughout shifts, smiling before his mask returns as another car pulls forward. Eddies brain was struggling to come to cope with the images of that small ring hanging off Williams neck. He cursed himself alive as Freddy punched him square across the face when he drunkly ranted towards his brother a weekend he spent back home

↳ When he returned back to base, the ring he had around his dog tags was gone. William nodded towards the Captain as usual, that little display now irking him- pouring more fire into the gaping wound he sustained as the lieutenant paused. Face turning over his shoulder as eh spoke out into the empty change room, "I have been requested by management to switch towards the front lines... It has been a pleasure working with you sir. I wish you the best."

"Thank you, William. Do take care of her," Eddie states, looking at him square in the eyes. "Till the day she loves me no longer and afterwards," William promises before gently closing the door behind himself. Eddie does now feel himself crying before he calls his mother, not saying a word as he cries, she cries, as he can feel his fathers disappointment, his sisters distaste, and Eddies side remarks.

↳ But why stop at that? Eddie was soon being called back for your engagement photo, he glared at the ring on your finger. It's small for a jeweller, he thinks to himself yet had already bought the ticket, a gift and written a card voicing his congratulations to you both.

--

↳ Edward was beyond confused to walk into the empty venue space a few months later. Handmade stars hug above his head, a tray of champagne by his feet as the lights were dimmed, the afternoon sun finding its way through the blinds casting patterns onto the hardwood floors beneath. In his steps, the floors creaked as your tearstained face meet his eyes. He walked faster, taking a kneel beside you as you flung yourself into his chest as he dropped the gift, kicking it aside and held you tightly to himself. Hands beginning to drift through your hair as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

He felt your tears staining his sweater, the rapid spikes of your shoulders as you sharply breathed between sobs. "H-He, He cheated on me! I fuckin' love another man and he cheats on me!" you wail, shaking your head into his neck as he rubs your back. Eddie holds himself from question the slight hope at, love another man.

"I am sorry to hear that darling, you are the most underserving person of such treatment I know. Downright motherfucker," Eddie whispers into your hair before you fall backwards, tugging Eddie by his shoulders to join you laying on the floors. You both stare up into the various stars coating the ceiling as you squeeze your hand in his own larger one.

A few moments pass as you listen to each other breathe in the empty room. Rain slowly begins to fall against the window panes as you turn your head to already find Eddie look at you with a soft smile. "Thank you, Eddie, for staying here with me... you're the best friend I could ever ask for," you speak out softly, hand resting on his cheek as he turns his head to kiss your palm.

"Always."

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly

[dontfearrr]

thank you to the angel who requested this<3 you can find it here

Request

Feast of Starlight

also this is like BARELY proofread so kindly disregard any horrible spelling mistakes🔥

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!reader

Summary: Readers childhood best friend had now become of higher status, due to that she hadn’t spoken to him in over two thousand years. However a simple invitation may change that.

Warnings: none

Category: fluff/hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.0k

“you may absolutely not Thranduil!”

She giggled as the young boy just crossed his arms in a whine. “but i will be so very careful, come on!” he insisted in a pitiful beg. She looked at the boy and sighed heavily, he always got his way with her no matter what, he was her best friend. “curse you” she grumbled and picked up the bright red apple, placing it on the top of her head and balancing it until it stayed put. She backed up and stood as still as possible. “you mess this up and i will kill you” she pointed a stern finger at the excited boy as he quickly nocked an arrow, pointing it in her direction. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he focused on the apple and the apple only… he opened his eyes and fired immediately. The arrow pierced the apple perfectly in the middle and it landed behind her on the grass. “i told you to just trust me!” Thranduil laughed and placed his hands on his hips proudly.

That was six thousand years ago.

She was woken up from her memory by another elf, she was passed out at her station due to the lack of sleep she had gotten the other night. She lifted her head up with a slight groan and took in her surroundings, finding she was in the seamstress quarters of the east side of Mirkwood, how stupid of her, falling asleep on the job! christ she thought..

Thranduil had been on her mind as of late, why? She didn’t know, It was as if he was haunting her every living thought, which is why she hadn’t got much sleep last night. She’d spent half of the night thinking about him, wishing she could turn back time a couple thousand years and be reunited with the sweet boy she once knew.

However she couldn’t dwell on it, not right now. Elrond was expecting the garment by sundown for The Feast of Starlight tomorrow. She’s been acquainted with the King of Imladris for quite a while due to her very skilled talents with making clothing for elves. He was going to be in Mirkwood by the morning and she was nearly finished with it.

She could’ve been finished with it a while ago if it wasn’t for her stupid..nap.

Nearly two hours later and she was finished with Elronds garment. It was beautifully elegant and she was positive he would be more than pleased. She gathered everything and placed it in the cart to be taken to the royal chambers and cleaned her area up, getting ready to retire to her own chambers.

Before she could exit, she was stopped by a royal guard right outside of the exit. He handed her an envelope without saying a single word and took his leave with a bow of his head. She was heavily confused but held onto the envelope until she reached her chambers to open it.

She placed her bag on the table near her bed and sat down, taking the envelope from under her arm and inspected it. The front had a wax seal with..a royal stamp? How intriguing. She flipped it over and the back read in very neat handwriting:

“A night of starlight”

She raised and eyebrow and shrugged before opening it and pulling out the piece of paper within it, unfolding it to see it was an invitation, to the Feast of Starlight?! That couldn’t be right..until she looked in the bottom right corner, where it read her name, underlined, as if it was being emphasized. She hadn’t been to one of those in..decades. The last one she was invited to was first age, when she was nearly a child. She could only help to wonder why she had been invited considering Thranduil was the only one who issued invitations, no one entered without his knowledge.

She set the invitation down and stared at the floor, wondering what on earth would he be inviting her for. She hadn’t spoke to him since he was crowned King. Maybe this is why he had been on her mind so recently. Her head was filled with many thoughts and possibilities but she chose not to worry her mind, she was invited, and that was it. All she had to do was show up, have a drink, and leave..right?

Thranduil poured himself a hefty glass of wine as he stared out at his private garden, pinching the bridge of his nose in perplexity.

“Ada, you cannot seriously be stressed out by this?” Legolas spoke as he entered the room, feeling his father’s agony from all the way down the hall. He rid himself of his weapons, placing all of them at the table and approached Thranduil, standing by his side. “she will come.” Legolas spoke once more, watching his father’s lip twitch, unsure of what to say.

“Hina, i do not wish to hear your words of wisdom at this time” Thranduil sighed in annoyance while taking a drink of wine, a large one. Legolas raised his eyebrow at his father and shook his head. For a king, he was the most stubborn elf Legolas had ever met in his life. “Very well. Let me know when you are done..dreading.” Legolas wanted to laugh, but he’d only get a piece of his father’s mind. So he held his hands up in playful defense as Thranduil eyed him as if he was some idiot and just sighed again, facing the window as Legolas took his leave.

The next morning she woke up to the sun rudely laying across her eyes watered slightly and she sat up, walking out to the balcony to open the doors and let some fresh air inside to wake herself up. But when she did so, she looked down and saw a dark green box sitting right in front of her feet. It was wrapped with a lighter green bow and the box had beautiful details of gold and red. She picked it up curiously and went back inside to open it. She places the cloth box on her bed and opened it slowly, finding what looked to be a..dress?

She tilted her head and picked up the garment from the box and held it up by the shoulders, watching it fall to the ground from its length. She audibly gasped at the beautiful dress, it was clearly made from the finest fabrics in all of Mirkwood, finer than even the guards. She had only ever used this kind of fabric for royals..

The dress was green and embellished with beautiful designs and elven patterns in gold thread and silver linings. The Neckline was a low v neck, something she wasn’t quite used to but who was she to decline such a garment! The back of the dress mirrored the v neck shape as well and the sleeves were fanned out at the wrist, the elegantly draped down, matching the sharpness of the rest of the dress. She laid it out on her bed and admired it before taking a deep breath to process what was actually happening.

First, he invites her to The Feast of Starlight, then he sends you an outrageously gorgeous dress..She was now as nervous as ever to go to this dinner.

It was now nightfall and she was sitting in front of her mirror, running a comb through her long golden brown hair. She pulled her two pieces out in front of her ears and braided some of it back, then littered a few more throughout due to her very thick hair. She wasn’t sure why she had thicker hair than normal elves but she loved it more than anything. She stood up and stared at the dress she had laid out on her bed and sighed deeply before changing into the elegant garment.

It fit her like a glove, hugging all of her curves and falling down her body like a waterfall. She felt like a princess, maybe even a queen..She wasn’t sure why she deserved this but surely there had to have been a reason. A good one. She hoped anyways. She then picked up her circlet she’d only worn once, feeling it was quite fitting for the event. It was littered in bright diamonds that hung down into her hair beautifully and a golden band that twisted around it. It was quite simple but beautiful nonetheless. Once she had felt she was ready, she looked outside to see the moon nearly cresting and decided it was time to head for the Palace.

“I told you, red doesn’t go with green. I want GOLD. Not red.” Thranduil told the dresser that was helping him with his outfit for the night. He was getting annoyed with them for they didn’t listen what so ever. Finally the dresser came back with a green and gold garment. Not too much gold..perfect. “By Valar..now go make yourself useful somewhere else.” he dismissed the elf and he began to dress himself.

He had purposely matched his own outfit to hers, wanting to be as close as possible to her. It was also something they would do in their childhood years nearly every day. Matching their clothes was something they did for the fun of it, any day they could to show everyone they were best friends. Only this time he doesn’t intend it in a best friend manner.

Thranduil never subjected himself to such childish antics due to his old age and had grown quite cold over the years, however he felt it was necessary, even Legolas suggested it. He hated when his son was right, but if he wanted to speak to her he had to make some kind of impression for just disappearing from her life when he was crowned.

She approached the large arched doors and looked over to one of the guards, who let her in immediately, knowing who she was. She bowed her head in thanks and entered the large Palace and could hear many conversations in the distance, so she followed that.

She walked down a long hall which had her turn right and she ended up in the right area, very clearly. It was a beautiful scene, filled with many beautiful elves and willow trees hung low above the area making the place look breathtaking. The only light came from the extra bright moonlight, the full orb casting white rays upon the feast.

She walked among the elves, some of them even greeting her very kindly. A raven haired elf approached with a tray filled with golden chalices filled with wine, she took one and thanked the elf, taking a small sip. She was delighted to be welcomed so quickly, she even had a couple conversations with some. But she stuck to her mission and sought out Lord Elrond, wanting to greet him especially since you hadn’t seen him in quite a while.

She looked among a bunch of elven heads for that very specific head of dark brown hair. Her eyes scanned the room but instead, was met with a pair of piercing blue eyes she remembered all too well..Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the tall elf. His eyes bored into her like she was his prey. She had suddenly felt out of place, she didn’t belong here! She didn’t even belong in this dress..what on earth was she even doing. She sighed and broke her gaze with the King and turned around to leave the dinner, it’s not like anyone would even notice her absence anyways, she was just the seamstress.

She placed her drink down onto a side table and turned around and began to leave, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, a very large hand. She got a whiff of a woodsy, manly scent and turned around, only to be met with the man she couldn’t erase from her mind.

She was bewildered to be stopped by him, it was the last thing she had expected. After an awkward moment of staring at each other, he went to speak.

“Mellon Nin, you look ravishing tonight.”

Thranduil spoke up first, staring down at her with his head tilted down due to her shorter height.

“Thank you, My Lord”

she couldn’t help the blush that covered her pale face and chest. She hadn’t heard Thranduil speak in nearly two thousand years, it was difficult for her to contain herself.

“Please, call me Thranduil. You are no stranger” He said gently, his voice laced with honesty and sympathy. She gave him a slight smile and nodded, letting him know she had acknowledged his request. She took this time to admire him, taking all of him in. He hadn’t really aged much since the last time she saw him but he was definitely older, sharper, and undeniably attractive. But what caught her eye was the overcoat he wore, it precisely matched her dress, the colors, the designs…was it on purpose?

“it’s been quite some time, Thranduil.” She spoke simply, a bit of hurt laced in her words, he may be the King but not in her eyes.

“it has.” he took a large breath through his nose then exhaled before speaking again, “I am pleased that you showed up. I had my doubts you weren’t going to.” He told you truthfully and reached down to take ahold of her hand, his hand dwarfing hers and placing his other hand over it, his thumb gently rubbing over her knuckles. She allowed him to and just looked up into his eyes. Trying to find some sort of emotion behind them, either he was good at hiding it, or he was truly just as cold as you thought.

“I do not know why you invite me, after two thousand years i’d think you have forgotten me.” she gently retracted her hand from his grasp after a moment and clasped them behind her back, her bottom lip quivering slightly. Thranduil faltered at this, his eyes relaxing and looking upon her as if she was a normal elleth. For the first time she actually saw emotion from him, and she was pleased to see this.

“My wrong doings have been heavy on my mind as of late. I am aware it’s been quite some time and i have no right to be putting you in such a position.“ He closed his eyes for a second before fixing his gaze back upon her and exhaling. “I cannot sleep at night knowing what i have done. The thought of you alone keeps me up, and i cannot bare it any longer.”

This made her heart ache for the man in front of her and she went to speak but couldn’t find any words. She let his words simmer first, playing them back in her head as she stared down at her feet. Finally she lifted her head and found Thranduil waiting patiently for a reply, the look of agony painted his face. He was truly in pain for what he had done to you.

“Oh Thranduil..” was all she could muster up and she placed a hand on his forearm, gently rubbing it. “I cannot blame you for doing such. I can only imagine the kind of things that were passed along to you when you were crowned. There is no need for apologies” she told him, giving his arm a small but noticeable reassuring squeeze. “you were never my king..” she then moved her hand to his cheek, gently caressing his porcelain skin, he sighed this time but in relief and endearment, leaning into her soft touch as if he had been yearning for it.

“and you were never just a seamstress..” he returned, making her smile slightly. He brings his hand up to place over hers that occupied his cheek. He took hers in his and placed a feather light kiss to her palm before placing it back to his cheek, closing his eyes to bask in her presence. “It’s always been you Thranduil. From the day i met you all the way until now. No matter what happened, you kept me going.” Her hand slid from his cheek to his chest, resting in the center of his broad chest.

“you are far too fair to be a simple seamstress, i curse myself every day i breathe this air for doing such a thing to you. You should be next to me on the throne, meleth nin..” This made her nearly tear up but she stayed strong, taking a large breath and stepping closer to him.

“Throne or not. I belong by your side, that’s how it always should’ve been.” She told him with sweet, gentle eyes. Making him drop the king act and wrap his arms around her completely and hold her close to him, his chin resting on the top of her head.

It was nearly a cursed sight to see the King doing such a thing, but he did not care because anyone who would like to voice a concern would be seeing the inside of a cell for the rest of their existence.

She buried herself into his chest, squeezing her eyes shut allowing a tear to fall. His hand pet down her hair, the delicate elleth in his arms once again. He felt like he’d just received the greatest gem of all middle earth. “It appears i have broken the King” she chuckled a bit, her words muffled by his chest and she could feel the vibration of his laugh as he did so.

She pulled from him and looked up at him with glossy eyes. He wiped her tears from her cheek with his thumb and gently fixed her stray hairs he’d messed up and bend a finger under her chin.

“I’ll never leave you again, you have my word.” He told her as his thumb ran over her bottom lip tenderly. Her lips curled up into a soft smile, earning a smile from him as well, which was a rare sight to see.

This would be the day known as the first woman to make The King smile.

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 17

Part 16

Eddie's chin was perched on Steve's shoulder, reading through the contents of the letter. There was a bunch of legal jargon that went over his head, but it was purely the fact that his parents sent it that document that spoke volumes about the kinds of people they were. Eddie also took to heart that fact Steve hardly ever mentioned them.

"And what exactly are they asking you to 'cease and desist'?" It was too early in the morning for such small print and lawyer-language. Eddie rubbed his eyes.

"Nothing they haven't said before. "I'm an embarrassment to them and they want me to stop."

Eddie hugged Steve from behind and kissed his shoulder. Then he kissed the back of his neck. As he did, he pulled the letter from his hand and then kissed his cheek.

"I'll let my people look over this, but there's no way they can order you to do anything. And if they keep bothering you, we can counter-sue for harassment."

Steve turned around in his arms and smiled. "You'd sue my parents for me?"

"Anything for my baby. I'd keep them wrapped up in court dates for years."

No one bothered his baby. Especially when he wasn't doing anything wrong. Just the idea of Eddie doing so made Steve swoon a little. This was exactly what he had dreamed of. Being scooped up from his humdrum life, filled with stress and anxiety and disappointment and being embraced by someone not just willing to love on him, but take care of him. Steve hadn't worried about a single bill since he and Eddie got together. The amount of times he'd pulled out his own money to pay could be counted on one hand.

"Hmm, I think we'll let them squirm a bit", Steve finally decided. "They don't get to stamp their feet after ignoring me for years."

And so, the letter was pretty much ignored in favor of other things going on. Steve didn't make any effort to be seen less in public. If anything, he was seen more, on the arm of someone from Corroded Coffin. Steve thought he'd be bothered by being photographed all the time. And while it was odd (he didn't know what the fuss was about him and Gareth looking at stationary) so far no one had caught him in any sort of compromising position.

He and Eddie had fucked in the backseat during a car wash and the most provocative picture the tabloids had was one of Eddie's nose buried in his neck, one squeezing his behind as they tried to do a quick makeout in an alley.

And any negative comments were not only drowned out by the positive ones, but they were also easy to ignore when he had a pack of men showering him with adoration.

One night, his parents called and while Steve would rather not been bothered with them, he felt like a shield was cast over him while he was cuddled up to Eddie on one side and the rest of his pack sitting around the living room. So this time, he answered.

"Hello mother."

"You think you're funny, don't you? You think this is all a joke? Have you even thought about us once? Honestly, every morning I wake up thinking there's going to be a picture of you with your pants down or you on your knees or some other-I just don't know where we went wrong with you Steven but this is truly unacceptable."

"What exactly is unacceptable about all of this? What do you actually know about it?"

Eddie muted the tv and gestured for Steve to put her on speaker so that they could all hear. Steve did and his mother's voice sounded around the room.

"We know you're running around with a bunch of musicians, doing god knows what, probably drugs and ruining our family name. Do you know how many times Irene Netting has had something to say about you? I swear the woman has no life but I can't refute the facts she's telling about you."

"You never bothered to get the facts from me", Steve said.

"Did you read the terms in our letter?"

"You mean the cease and desist order?"

"You are going to stop besmirching the Harrington name. By any means necessary. And if that means we have to drag you back home, well, thankfully there's an associate of your father's that's still interested. He's a beta, but beggars can't be choosers."

Steve could scent the way his pack felt about that and if that wasn't enough, the way they were glaring at his phone told the whole story. Eddie held his hand out for it and Steve gave it over, wondering what he'd say.

"Sorry to disappoint, but Steve is already home. And he's not leaving just so you can sell him off to someone twice his age."

"Who is this!? Steven Phillip Harrington, are you living with those animals?"

Steve refrained from making a comment about how beastly Eddie could be in bed. But decided now was as good a time as any to introduce them all. "Mother, this is Eddie, my alpha. Eddie, my dear mother."

Her sucking in a breath could be heard, clearly about to admonish her son again, when Jeff spoke up.

"You know, if it's just about messing up the 'Harrington name' all Steve needs to do is change it."

"Yeah, but to what?", Gareth asked, like the answer wasn't obvious.

It was clear to Steve and Eddie. It was clear the moment they locked eyes. Steve felt the need to bare his neck, to let Eddie claim that last part of himself and be joined forever. Abruptly, Eddie got up from the couch and got down on his knees in front of his love. Steve hung up the phone without ever taking his eyes off of his alpha.

"Stevie, baby, angel, muse of my soul", Eddie kissed his knee. "Would you do me the honor of taking my last name?"

Steve thought back to the night they first met, when he was certain he'd never have Eddie's attention for more than a night, if only for an hour. And now he was prostrated before him, offering his bite. Unable to help himself, Steve fell to his feet, wrapping his arms around his intended.

"Yes! Now. Give it to me now", Steve pleaded, leaning his head to the side to expose his neck.

Eddie hummed into his skin, kissing Steve's neck and even pressing his lips to that special spot in a tease before pulling back. Steve's pout was almost enough to make him do it right now. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

"You deserve a proper courtship, baby. And a proper mating." They may have skipped a few steps, but Eddie was determined to show his beloved how much he meant to him. "If you thought you were spoiled before..."

Steve kissed him and then kissed him again. He couldn't wait and wanted it now. But also the thought of being courted, like an old fashioned courting from back in the day. He also couldn't wait for that. And Eddie wasted no time.

The very next day, Eddie went in full force. Steve was met with courting gifts, Eddie got the approval of Robin, and even the rest of his home pack when they barged in on the video call with Robin.

"I'll withhold my full approval until we can meet in person, Mr. Munson. But for now, you have my permission to court him", Robin said.

When Robin was finally able to come down and meet him, Steve was excited to introduce her. What ended up happening was that he had two menaces on his hands. But that just meant that Robin saw him as an equal and thus perfect for her Steve. And so, two months after announcing his intention, Eddie took Steve on a nice night out. After shopping for an eye catching outfit, they went to a show, dinner, and then when they returned home, Eddie took them right to their bedroom.

By now, their den and nest had become one and Steve knew that he'd never have to take it apart unless an item needed to be washed or re-scented. Tonight, as Eddie lay him down Steve reveled in the scents there. More than one item was fresh. The boys must've scented their clothes while they were on their date.

"I can't believe we waited so long for this", Eddie said while kissing at his belly. "Wanted this since I first laid eyes on you."

"That long?", Steve breathed out, squirming a little as he felt that sinful tongue on his hips.

"Mmm", Eddie hummed against Steve's mound, taking his time, loving that they had time. "That long. I've wanted you to be my mate, bonded and pupped up that whole time."

Steve released a small moan as Eddie spread him and then blew on his cunt, watching it twitch with anticipation. Eddie didn't tease for long, wanting to build up before he sunk his teeth into Steve's neck. Only when Steve was putty in his hands, filled to the brim with his knot, crying out his name, did he finally take the plunge.

When they were catching their breaths, still tied up, and Eddie licking at the new bite, Steve tried to speak between his panting.

"Me...me too..."

"Hm?"

"I've wanted this, since the first night too", Steve finished. "Wanted you forever." He rocked against Eddie. "Wanted you and your pups. The others too now."

Eddie reached down to rub at Steve's clit, making his eyes roll at the sensation. If that's what his baby wanted, his baby would get it. There was enough seed to go around to keep Steve pupped up year round if he desired.

"All you gotta do is ask, sweetness. Fuck", Eddie bucked up into him, making Steve yelp. The thought of him, round with any of their pups was almost too much. For both of them.

It only took a few talks with the whole pack for Steve to stop taking his birth control. Steve was so excited to announce it that he hopped on the first dick that he saw, which was Gareth's. Eddie found them like that in the kitchen, Steve bent over a counter and he took his own turn when he found out what the celebration was for.

Three months later, Steve felt a series of symptoms that had him going to the doctor. And by the next visit it was confirmed: twins. While the doctor was giving him more information, Steve's thoughts were wrapped up in the hope that it was not just Eddie's, but Jeff's too. His body warmed at the memory of having taken both alpha's cocks.

Pictures began to surface of him and his new belly, tracking his progress and of course, speculating on which member of the band was the sire of his new pups. But as the gossip and rumors spread, they made sure it was clear they were reporting on Steve Munson.

End

And that's a wrap! I miiiight do an epilogue on what happens after but for now, that is the end :) thank all yall for reading and leaving such wonderful comments!

Here's that epilogue

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[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 9.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.0k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

so sorry for the long wait. ):

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, decapitation, death

story playlist

The sound of paper furling and unfurling were the only ones heard. Then the slam of a fist on a wooden desk. Then a sigh. 

“This is ridiculous,” Rhaenyra hissed, reading over the missive stamped with the Velaryon sigil for the near hundredth time. “Absolutely ridiculous— borderline treasonous.” 

The letter spelled out, in so many words, that Vaemond Velaryon was contesting Lucerys’ inheritance claim to Driftmark. Lord Corlys had apparently fallen ill in the Stepstones— damn that accursed place— which brought up the question of succession. There had been whispers over the years of Rhaenyra’s first three sons’ true parentage belied in the seed of a certain late Commander of the City’s watch. Such accusations have been unfounded and swatted away like flies if the argument was ever brought up in the small council chamber or throne room. 

Upon looking at them, the three Velaryon boys were only such in name– that much was obvious. Their brown eyes and curled brown hair struck a decided resemblance to someone that was not Ser Laenor Velaryon. 

Even if the rumors, as they may be, were plain as day truths, such things couldn’t be acted upon, much less said about the heir to the iron throne, could they? 

“How can Alicent even entertain this… this mummer’s farce?” she continued to seethe, resorting to pacing now, twisting the rings on her fingers. Her throat felt a bit dry at the situation. Her and Alicent had struck a comfortable balance since returning. This felt… it felt akin to a slap in the face.

“‘Tis not just Alicent entertaining it,” Daemon muttered, swirling wine in his cup. He was lazed in the chaise, one leg over the other. He seemed particularly laissez-faire about the situation at hand, as if it were nothing more than a mere annoyance to him, like a leg cramp or an annoying bug. “That snake of a father she has has his fangs in every pot. Whatever suits him— and this would seem to be one of those things.” he glanced to his wife, wanting to say more about the queen, but thought better of it. Daemon Targaryen was, in all accounts, a man who spoke his mind– but he didn’t wish to ruffle his pregnant wife’s feathers by calling her ‘girlhood friend’ a cunt like her father. 

“Otto Hightower is a conniving man, that much is true. What could he hope to gain by currying favor with Vaemond?” 

“The Velaryon fleet. The Velaryon coin. The Velaryon connections. The well of opportunities for conniving cunts like Otto are endless.” he punctuated each point with a wave of his glass.

Rhaenyra’s mouth snapped shut. She was silent for a long while before finally speaking again. “Well, Lord Corlys is not dead yet. This will be fought and we will be heard.”

—

The morning after the gala was… eventful, to say the least. She hardly remembered going back to her room, it all felt like a hazy, dizzy dream. 

Aemond had escorted her back to her chambers in (comfortable) silence, giving her another goodnight kiss before leaving her for the night. She had been reeling from it all, the adrenaline of their interaction.

She could feel his lips on hers and a delightful buzz on her face and… another unfamiliar sensation deep in her body, nestled behind her navel. It felt like a pulling sensation, like a thread connecting her and Aemond. Just the slightest tug on the string had her feeling warm and fuzzy— she wanted him. The implication of wanting him could mean a myriad of things. She was fond of him, of course, she always had been. His possessive declaration, to any normal person, could be deduced into one thing. But in Shera’s mind, there were many interpretations of such an action, it couldn’t be assumed to mean one thing! 

He said she belonged to him— that didn’t necessarily mean he… loved her, he just wanted her near him. The kiss… she had started it, of course! It was merely… something of comfort between them, like a soft blanket or a favorite smell, right? Nothing so deep as… as one might assume.

 But it was also… melding into one another with ease, like their lips coming together had been second nature, their feelings inevitable. 

She kicked her legs in bed, spooking Moongeist slightly. Burying her face in her pillow, she gave an uncharacteristically loud squeal— to personify her current feelings. This was girlish and so very silly! Her face was red, she knew, feeling the heat radiating off of it.

No, no— ‘twas not love. It… Aemond didn’t love her, he couldn’t, it was a passing fancy. Yes, he was possessive and had mentioned marrying her twice. But that didn’t… mean… 

She glanced over at the dozens of drawings and sketches they’d done over the past few weeks on her side table. Her eye immediately caught on the portrait she did of him in blue and purple pastels, fingers wrought over the etching as she thought back to when she presented it to him. 

“I do not look like this, Shera,” he scoffed as he rolled his eye at her depiction of him. “You made me look like a child getting their portrait done for the first time. I look like I am being held at swordpoint.” 

Her mouth opened, brows flying to her hairline. “What do you mean? This is what you look like to me,” she snatched the paper from his hand and put it up next to his face to compare. “And you wouldn’t sit still, you basically were a child. I thought you had more discipline than that– Ser Criston would be disappointed.” she tutted.

Of course, it was a stylized portrait– mayhaps overly stylized. It was lines and angles and he did look quite pointy in it. But it felt like him, harsh around the edges but there was a glint in his eye that was soft, something few people could catch in Aemond Targaryen. He had been agitated when she made him stand still and it was surprising that she didn’t capture that overbearing emotion– rather, she caught the softness reserved only for her that hung in the back light of his eye.

“You are blind.” Aemond huffed, turning away.

“Yes, we have established that,” she pushed his shoulder playfully.

Love. Love? Love!

She screamed herself hoarse again into her pillow until Moongeist tugged it away from her. 

She loved him. She was in love with Aemond Targaryen and had been for a very, very long time. 

She was still giddy about it, getting out of bed with a spring in her step, as if she were some sort of sprightly hare. She peppered Moongeist’s face in kisses, to which he returned sleepy chuffs and whines, cooing soft noises to him in lieu of words— her throat hurt from her girlish squealing.

She had almost forgotten about the incident. The warging. She wasn’t even sure it had been real, if not for the bruises where Aemond held her so tightly to stop her from falling to the floor, she thought it would’ve been a dream. 

Shera knew of warging– every Stark did, every Northman did. It was a seemingly supernatural phenomenon told by stewardesses to children. It was a thing of wonder and utter horror. She remembers her own stewardess, the very fleeting memories she had before King’s Landing of Winterfell, keeping her afraid with the threat that if a skinchanger died while inhabiting another being, they would be trapped in said being’s skin forever. 

“Some skinchangers are more beast than man, Shera,” the older woman said, wagging a finger in the little girl’s face, who was no more than four at the time. “If you keep up your antics, don’t be surprised if you wake up as a beast, you little hellion.”

Shera promptly bit the offending wagging finger.

Unfurling the paper left with her breakfast, a hearty plate of hot eggs and bangers (which looked ravenously appetizing), she skimmed it. The message was clear in its intent: the move back to Dragonstone was delayed. Biting into the sausage, she threw Moongeist some eggs.

One more thing to be delighted about– she felt like everything between her and… those who resided in King’s Landing was on borrowed time. 

‘Twas a pity about the hearing for Lucerys’ inheritance. She didn’t care much for Lucerys– but she didn’t really know him. She wonders if he even remembers taking Aemond’s eye, and Shera subsequently shoving him into a wall where he hit his head.

She ponders it more over breakfast, even asking for a second helping of sausage before reporting to the throne hall. The maids that dressed her had brought a separate garment, one unfamiliar and most certainly not something she brought with her.

“Princess Rhaenyra wishes for you to wear this at the hearing,” one of them murmured. 

Shera eyed the dress– it was deep, blood red with black and gold trim. There were embellishments of dragons and wolves across the chest and a sash belt that looked like it had wolf claws embedded into it. It was… nice in its own way, except for the ghastly color. The maids were relentless in the cinching of her waist and she shifted uneasily from foot to foot as she regretted her second helping of breakfast. The women didn’t say anything to her, really, but exchanged looks that said more than words. 

As she slips into the throne room, she feels a whoosh of air beside her. “You look garish in that color,” a familiar voice sneered. Aegon blocked her way, brows raised. “Some little birdie told me that you prefer blue.”

“... mayhaps I do,” she murmured. “And how exactly do you know that?” 

“Again, my little birdie. But also, I was at the gala and saw you and my brother eye-fucking each other. You two are seriously shameless, debaucherous almost.”

“That is truly rich coming from you, Aegon,” Shera cracked a small smile. 

Continuing her walk, Jacaerys sweeps her up into his arm and leads them over to… their side. Rhaenyra, Daemon, Lucerys and Rhaena are waiting. Across the opposite side of the room are Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent and Otto. In the center, stands Vaemond, swaying ever so slightly to the Queen’s side. The room is so clearly divided that it's almost sickening. Just the previous night, they had been making merry without all of this division. She sees Aemond, who gives her dress a onceover– his expression is reserved and she can’t tell what he is thinking. He looks at her for half a second, nostrils flared, before looking away from her. 

While the proceedings are happening, she swims within her own mind. She stands near Jace, who has his arm looped in hers in a protective manner. Scattered words of Vaemond come through her muddled thoughts, ‘Velaryon’, ‘Blood’, ‘Survival’, ‘House’. Her eyes were glazed over as she counted the cracks in the stones of the floor.

One, two, three… four… 

She doesn’t really pay attention to what’s going on until the heavy doors of the throne room open with almost silencing impunity, quiet chatter and shocked whispers pulling her from her reverie.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” the Kingsguard announced as His Grace, who still looked all the part of a royal corpse, hobbled into the room. He declined any assistance to walk and take his seat.

She gets a sinking feeling in her gut– something telling her that everything is about to explode. 

“I must… admit… my confusion,” he wheezes, winded by the small walk. Shera feels a small twinge of sympathy at that, understanding the feeling. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

“You are of sound mind in that, father,” Rhaenyra bowed her head, unfurling another paper, walking to the King to present it. “This is a whit and declaration of betrothal between my son, Lucerys Velaryon, and Lord Corlys’ granddaughter, Rhaena Targaryen. It is signed and stamped by Lady Rhaenys, who upholds her husband’s declaration that Laenor’s son shall inherit Driftmark. This betrothal shall only strengthen his claim.” 

Viserys gave a small smile. “Thank you, my daughter,” he skimmed the paper, obviously with some struggle. “The matter… is settled, Ser Vaemond. It has been and it will… stay affirmed… that Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon is heir to Driftmark… the Driftwood Throne… and the next Lord of the Tides… and the children… of him and Lady Rhaena… will inherit it after him.” 

She feels the intensity in the air, it’s almost palpable. She feels sick as the voices raise, the blood in the room rises. 

Vaemond looks like he is about to burst, his body shaking in clear anger. “You break law… and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon,” he pauses for a moment as if to consider his next words, “No.I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it’? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond,” Viserys struggled to sit up, returning Vaemond’s vitriol with his own– as labored and unthreatening as it was.

“That,” Vaemond pointed to Lucerys, with a look that could raze an army. “is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… are no more than the second son of Driftmark.” 

“You… may run your house as you see fit… but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this…” Vaemond looked back to Lucerys and Jacaerys. The rage in his eyes were palpable as a humid day, the anger emanating from him sticking in the room like cloying smoke.

“Say it.” Daemon whispered, eyes trained on the second son of Driftmark. The rogue prince was disarmingly calm, his voice like Caraxes’ hiss. 

“Her children… are bastards!” Vaemond boomed, stomping his foot and pointing again at Rhaenyra’s sons. 

Shera’s breath left her lungs. She remembered what happened the last time someone called them bastards. She glanced to Aemond, who was looking right back at her. 

“And she…” Ser Vaemond turned his damning finger to Rhaenyra, “is… a… whore.” 

The swing of a sword was all she heard. 

It is silent, save for the hushed and shocked breathing of everyone watching. One would think that people would scream, would gasp. But no, it was quiet as a mouse, quiet as Vaemond’s head was removed from his body and the gentle seep of blood staining the stone floor. 

Shera had never seen anyone die before– not like this. She can see into the passages of his skull, his eyes still open. Shocked, she looks at Daemon, who is wiping his blade against his doublet. Her eyes were glued to the ground, to the cracks she was counting before. They were soaked in his blood, the divots and fissures of the stone opening way for the blood to fall into, branching out into jagged rivers.

One, two, three… f-four…

This is what is he capable of, isn’t it? No one came to truly seize him, to arrest him for killing a man in broad daylight, in front of the King, in front of the Hand, in front of courtiers, in front of the Kingsguard. 

Alicent’s mouth was opened, her eyes wide. Even Otto was shocked, his fist clenched. It was as much emotion as Shera had ever seen the Hand express.

Her saliva feels cloying in her mouth as she glances across the room. Helaena has her ears covered and Shera wishes she had done the same. Aegon was staring off into space, pupils dilated. The scuffle of blades and minds beginning to come to a sense of what just really happened.

Aemond’s face finally held some emotion: enamorment. For the power that Daemon held, the prowess, the act of brutality itself– Shera couldn’t parse which. All she knew is that it scared her. That darkness lying just beneath the surface that she’d tried so hard to ignore–

Her extremities feel numb, the sharp sting of icy needles crawling up her arms and legs. She began to sway, unknowingly clasping onto Jacaerys. The room was spinning and shaking, the intense smell of copper— Vaemond’s blood— tainting her senses. 

A high pitched ringing overwhelmed her hearing as she slipped from consciousness into darkness. 

—

Alicent held Rhaenyra’s arm, hand over the length of the scar she gave her so many years ago. It seemed like a fever dream; that night. Her thumb traced the raised skin as the two women shared a moment in silence.

“I— I will return, Alicent,” the princess murmured, her hand over her belly. “I will take the children home and return for Shera. We… we have overstayed our welcome.” her throat bobbed as they spoke softly in the corner of the maester’s room. 

The queen’s eyes roved over Shera’s sleeping form. Her chest rose and fell softly and she seemed… troubled in her unconsciousness, soft whines emitting from her every so often. Her wolf stayed at the foot of the bed, standing at attention. Amber eyes vigilant, guarding. 

“How… how shall you transport her? She hasn’t woken up yet, Nyra,” Alicent asked, tilting her head. “The maesters say she is fragile.” 

“Syrax is a smooth flier— a makeshift cot is being constructed on her saddle as we speak. The flight wouldn’t be long and it would be much less taxing than a wheelhouse or horse.” 

Alicent nibbled on her lip anxiously. She had never been fond of dragons, despite most of those closest to her connected to one in some way. 

Targaryens and their queer customs. 

“Is… is that wise?” she pressed, brow knitting. “They do not even know if she will wake.” 

“I made an oath to her brother that I would keep her under my care, Alicent— we must go back to Dragonstone, our affairs cannot be put off any longer. I do not wish to birth my babe here, nor do I wish for Jacaerys to marry here.” 

But I wish for you to stay. I wish for you to leave that ingrate of a husband. She punctuated her unheard thought with a meaningful squeeze to Rhaenyra’s arm. A silent plea— it was the first time in years that something had felt right. 

But it wasn’t her place to say anything about it, the words were better left unsaid. “If you think that is wise, Rhaenyra,” the queen responded, her hand dropping from her skin as if it burned her. Mayhaps it did. “At least let our maesters monitor her for a few days— then you may take her.” 

Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched as she recused both hands to her belly as if to defend herself. “Very well, my queen.” 

They were so close, yet so far. 

—

It was hazy. Hazy and dreary— silent but all too loud. Her steps were calm and measured as her heart thumped in her chest. Shera felt light in her steps without any inhibition or reproach. Feeling no pain or vertigo, she flew down the staircase, skipping two or three at a time, giggling. This had to be a dream, didn’t it?

Descending, down… down… 

She was in the Red Keep, she knew. But it felt different, somehow. Younger in its stones, in the bones of its foundation, there was still some give. 

And yet, despite the airiness of the walls, there was a shadow looming

Two somewhat familiar figures were conversing near the skull of Balerion. She recognized them from portraits– young Rhaenyra and a much healthier, much more alive version of Viserys. 

She had always been fascinated by him, Balerion. Despite her heritage being very non-dragonesque, she always felt a childlike wonder whenever someone would speak of Balerion. It was hardly fathomable to her to imagine a dragon that would blot out the sun– one that even rivaled Vhagar’s gargantuan size. 

Viserys spoke softly but firmly to Rhaenyra, who was so young. She had just lost her mother and brother— the claim to the Iron Throne and named heir were up in the air. 

“Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living. When this Great Winter comes, Rhaenyra… all of Westeros must stand against it,” Viserys urged softly as the candlelight flickered against his features, fingers skimming atop the flames

“And if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. A king,” he paused, looking at Rhaenyra once more, “or queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. Aegon called his dream ‘The Song of Ice and Fire.’ This secret… it’s been passed from king to heir since Aegon’s time. Now you must promise to carry it… and protect it. Promise me this, Rhaenyra,” the king looked directly to where Shera was standing, looking right into her eyes, as if he could see her, see into her. “Promise me.”

The metal of the Catspaw blade heated up atop the coals to a bright and almost fluorescent orange. Goosebumps prickled on Shera’s skin in tandem with the rising heat of the room. It was so warm, no, it was hot, scorching. The air vacated her lungs, replaced by flames licking at her insides, burning, consuming.

Young Rhaenyra had left the room, leaving Viserys to look at the skull of Balerion. He picked up a single candle, peering into the flame like it held the secrets of the world. 

He spoke again, but his voice wasn’t that of the era of King that Shera was looking upon. It was old, weezing– just like in the throne room from earlier in the day. The form of Viserys slumped, hair falling out and skin graying as he held the candle like a lifeline. He fell to his knees and the sound of his bones shattering could be heard, breaking and splintering into nothing but dust. 

But the candle was still lit. His hand, now nothing but bone and sinew, was fused to the wax. 

“No… more,” he coughed and sputtered, blood leaking from his lips onto the stone. Wax dripped, mingling with the blood. Finally, he focused on the flame of the candle. “My… love.” 

He blew out the candle with his last breath. With that, all of the candles in the room blew out.

Shera was left alone in the darkness and swirling smoke. 

It was cold.

–

She awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. But she was still cold, shivering. The smell of smoke was still lingering. 

Her chest was heaving as she sat up and tried to walk, wanting that same flighty weightlessness she felt before. Her body failed her and she crumbled to the floor, a broken doll once again. Arms wrapped around her and helped her up. The familiarity of sandalwood lulled her frantic nerves as she wholeheartedly buried her face into Aemond’s chest. She knew it was him. His arms laced behind her as he lifted her up easily as if not to taint her with having to stand on the ground. His nose buried into her hair, holding onto her as if he was afraid she would slip away.

There was the sound of a throat clearing near the corner of the room. The two of them were not alone– but she didn’t care. She clung to Aemond like her life depended on it, peering behind him slowly. 

Aegon was sitting behind them, knee bobbing nervously. He looked… disheveled, more than usual. Even more so, he was wearing… the crown of the conqueror. He was wearing the crown of his namesake. “You’ve missed a lot, Shera,” he muttered, eyes dark.

“Aegon?” she croaked, voice sounding hoarse and broken from disuse.

“‘Tis ‘your grace’ now.” Aegon said bitterly.