#I’m still alive but barely draw </3

[ask-claus-and-ninten]

3 am life sign. Of the Ness and Claus being dudes.

Inspired by photos from my days in university years ago 🤧

I didn’t have a couch in my apartment. My friends just hung out on the floor and the blankets my roommate had out.

[alisblackgf]

YO ZAC WELCOME BACKKKKK,

But yk I got a request 🤞🏽

Earth-42!Miles with fem!spider-reader

Like reader was from 1610!miles universe but when he went to earth-42 she went with him and maybe like there was a prowler!reader in 42!miles universe but she died and hes like “look at the power you had here…with me”

(The rest up to you…yk how I like it zacy 😏)

YEAH OFC <3

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: earth-42!miles x fem!spider!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst(?)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in his universe, you’re dead. it’s not fair that some inferior version of him gets to have you alive and well while he’s stuck grieving you. he makes it his number one priority to show you what you could have with him. what you had.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: inhales exhales i don’t like this and idk if i did him justice but HOPEFULLY I DID. it’s a little messy idk if i did this right HELO i hope you like it anyway (shout out to rae for helping me with the spanish 🫶)

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: hermosa - beautiful; tú eras mi vida y mi mundo - you were my life and my world; mi amor - my love

you woke up in a daze.

your surroundings were dark with only a little illumination coming from a small window. you tried to get up, but you were quickly dragged back down to notice you were tied to a pole. the more you pulled against it (to no avail), the more you lost hope.

you took a shaky breath and looked around the room to find miles tied up on a punching bag. he didn’t look conscious. his head is hung low and you could barely see his closed eyes. your heart dropped and made it your mission to get his attention.

“miles? miles!”

then, your spidey-sense goes off.

you hear footsteps drawing closer and closer to you, and you desperately try to break free from the pole.

“i wouldn’t wake him just yet, hermosa.”

your eyes widened as you looked back at miles, who was still knocked out. you were extremely confused at who was talking to you. they sounded just like your miles, but it wasn’t. you were about to speak, but then the mystery person came out of the shadows and kneeled down to see you.

it was..miles? but not your miles for sure. this miles had braids, and judging from the term of endearment he called you earlier, he could for sure roll his r’s. he gently took your face in his hands and scanned you for any sign of injury. when he makes sure you’re fine, he smiles at you.

“you’re just as beautiful as i remember,” he says.

“i’m sorry?” you ask, seeing as you’ve never met him in your life.

he sighed at your words and untied you from the pole. when your hands are free, you rub your wrists in an attempt to ease the soreness that enveloped them. you tried to shoot a web, but you soon notice that your web-shooters are gone.

“c’mon, mami, you don’t think i’m dumb, do you?” he chuckles at your attempt before untying your feet, and you stretched your legs in response. once he’s up, he holds out his hand to you. you hesitantly accept. he helps pull you up from the floor and you dust yourself off.

he looks at you before asking, “i’m assuming your name is (y/n)?”

you nod in response, looking a little concerned before saying, “how’d you know?”

“because that’s what my girl’s name was, and you look and sound just like her.”

“your girl?” you ask curiously. he nods and shows you a polaroid picture of him and a girl. he was right, she looked exactly like you. “why isn’t she here?”

his facial expression went from relaxed to serious. he sighed before speaking, “she’s dead.”

your eyes widen. you know you’re not his (y/n), but hearing that a version of you is dead sends shivers down your spine.

“tú eras mi vida y mi mundo, (y/n). you were taken from me for the same reason you save people now.”

“and what’s that?”

“your compassion,” he says with a slight bitterness to his tone. “you cared so much for people. too much. i shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”

you listened eagerly. even if she wasn’t you necessarily, you were still curious to hear how a variant of you died.

you put your hand on his shoulder and nodded, and he took it as a sign to continue.

“we were handling business. two guys had crossed us. i was taking care of one, you were with the other. he was begging for his life, and you showed him kindness and spared him. then, he..”

you could hear his breathing getting shaky, and you began to rub his shoulder.

“you don’t have to finish, i— i get the gist of it,” you assure him.

he nods and pulls you into a hug. you hesitantly hug him back, feeling bad for him. once you wrap your arms around him, he whispers to you, “i’m never letting you out of my sight again, mi amor.”

your breath hitches and your eyes widen.

“i’m so, so sorry for your loss, miles. but i’m not her. i don’t belong here,” you try to reason. you hear shuffling on the punching bag and you can see miles—your miles—stirring awake.

“miles! you’re okay!” you gently move the other miles off of you and run to your miles.

“for the most part,” he tries to joke.

“i don’t think you get it,” earth-42 miles begins to speak. you turn away from your miles to look at the other one. “you had so much power with me, (y/n).”

“what’s this dude on about?” earth-1610 miles whisper-asks you, but all you can do is shrug in response to him.

“look, i’m sorry that your girlfriend died, but i’m not her, and i never will be,” you spat, getting annoyed.

“i’ll give you two options,” the other miles begins. “you can die with bug-boy here, or you can come rule the streets with me.”

your eyes widen as he walks over to you guys, now in a prowler suit. he puts his gauntlet on and shoves you out of the way, putting his hand around your miles’ neck, choking him.

“pick your poison, mami. let’s hope you make the right choice.”

I REALLY HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE OMG

tags: @pr0wlerpunk

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 4)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer picks you to be his baby mama. Rated E

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You’re resting against the trunk of a tree at the top of a little hill.

It’s picturesque — the hill is gentle, sloping down to a field of tall yellow-green grass. You can smell it, wafting up with the pollen from golden flowers. The sky above is alive with pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows and whites. A symphony of coos, chirps and pitter-patters of tiny things skittering around have an oddly calming effect as you settle back and allow yourself to exist. 

Eyes closed, you hear the sound of something larger than a mouse rounding the tree trunk. 

“I got it!” A feminine voice breaks the calm.

You don’t have to look to feel the other person at your side. They lower themselves to the ground, knees brushing against yours when they cross their legs to sit next to you. 

You don’t have to look, but you do. 

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

She’s not wearing any clothes, and you can see faint scars and wrinkles against the uninterrupted expanse of her skin. 

“It’s so pretty, I’ve never seen one so red.” The woman is happy to see you, speaking with all the familiarity of a sister. 

She presents an apple to you, taken from behind her back like a surprise. 

It is red. Red like an oversized ruby, or a still-beating heart full of blood. All except for the missing chunk made by delicate teeth, yellow-white meat peeking through.

You accept her offering without a word. Even when it’s imperfect, you’re mesmerized by the fruit.

“I took a bite. I’m sorry.” She gazes at you, eyes flinty. “Does that bother you?”

You shake your head vehemently, holding the apple between your hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “No, of course not.”  

The woman’s lips quirk up into a satisfied smile, growing bigger when you lift the apple to your mouth and bite into it. The taste is extraordinary — sweet juice bursts against your tongue when the crisp flesh gives under your teeth with barely any resistance.

You savor the first bite out of necessity but soon you’re ravenous. You can’t get enough. 

Your companion exhales gently through her nose and looks up at the colorful sky. She seems to relish in the breeze that passes by, making the leaves above you rustle and the tall grass ahead blow back quietly. 

The apple is almost gone when she looks back at you, teeth showing as she grins. “Careful there!”

She giggles, reaching out to tap the hand of your hand in warning. It’s all playful, even when you pout and draw back. 

“You’ll eat the seeds if you keep that up.” She says. “Something might take root and grow if you do.” 

Her words give you pause, but only for the length of four or five heartbeats. The core of the apple is no less refreshing and before you know it, you’re holding the stem. 

“Thank you.” You tell her earnestly. 

The stem rolls in your palm, until it appears to wiggle and your brow furrows. In the back of your mind, you think you should be more startled to see it moving on its own. But when it grows pink-gray and ringed, and you realize it’s a worm, you simply place the flat of your hand on the ground below and watch it find its way into the dirt. 

Sudden warmth against your cheek has you looking back up. The woman is inches from your face. Her eyelashes are dark and long and you could count them if you wanted. 

The woman kisses you without a word, hands coming up to cup the back of your head. Surprise does spark up your spine as her tongue darts behind your lips. It’s as if she’s drinking deeply from you before she lets go. 

“Forgive me. I wanted another taste.” She giggles again. “It’s even sweeter than I remember.” 

Your face burns. You open your mouth, ready to ask the questions burning the tip of your tongue before the thud of footsteps sound from behind you. 

She frowns, light leaving her eyes as she glances behind your shoulder. “Oh I was hoping we’d have more time.” 

Her eyes cut across to yours. “Wake up before he sees you!”

———

A wave of pure, unadulterated nausea swept over you as soon as you opened your eyes. You laid still for a long moment, trying to reign in the urge to vomit before you deemed it safe enough to observe your surroundings. 

A vague sense of confusion surfaced through the malaise when you realized that you were in your living room. There was a carmine blanket tucked around you, and with moderate difficulty you raised your head to see that, yes, a fluffy pillow was resting under your head.

Your reality conflicted with the still-present smell of tall, wet grass and a chill from the summer breeze against your skin.

With ridiculous care, you turned your head back into the pillow and muffled a whine. You couldn’t recall feeling a hangover of this caliber ever before in your life.

‘Wait.’

You weren’t hungover. Well, maybe you were but not from alcohol. 

Your neighbors had invited you to dinner, then drugged you. 

Already sick, you forced yourself to breathe deeply before shifting on the couch and pulling up the blanket. Despite confirming that your body was still clothed, you found yourself shaking. 

It didn’t make sense to you how anyone could do this regardless of their intentions. You could not fathom why two people willing to harm you in one way hadn’t done more than that. 

Your relief was short-lived, as dull and diluted as it was, when you twisted to lay back down and came face-to-face with:

A black glove, some aspirin and a glass of water sat on your coffee table.

You blinked rapidly.

There was a small business card in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless ensemble. It was thick stock, white, and flashing fancy golden script:

Lucifer Morningstar

Your stomach dropped as an unnaturally white face with glowing yellow and red eyes flashed in your mind. 

The hallucination you’d seen last night — his image faded from your mind and you were left drifting in a blank, black void. 

No thoughts. 

———

The headache and nausea were considerably lesser when you woke up again. 

Looking at the items on your coffee table — ‘glove, aspirin, water still there’ — you looked at each one and for one, strangely hopeful moment you didn’t see a card. 

Oh no, it had just fallen on the floor. 

———

Lucifer Morningstar 

It was an odd business card, with its little red, white and gold designs on the edges. Fireworks, you eventually guessed. The ‘i’ in both first and last name were punctuated with them as well. 

As you’d popped the aspirin in your mouth and downed the water, you flipped the card over. You could feel your eyebrows rising to your hairline at the hastily written message on the back:

Proof you weren’t dreaming. 

Please Call Me

1-666-666-6669

Pacing was out of the question. Your limbs were still unsteady no matter how much you willed them to function. 

You were trapped on the couch trying to accept what your brain had been screaming at you since you awoke for the fifth time. 

How much time had passed? 

                                      Heaven and Hell were real, and so were God and the Devil. 

            And the Devil had paid you a visit. 

———

The indent you’d made into your stupid, hand-me-down sofa was probably permanent now that you’d spent who knows how long just rotting there. 

Contemplating, processing, fearing. 

Fleeting memories of tantrums you’d thrown as a child paralyzed you. Moments in your life that you’d already regretted so much they kept you up some nights — randomly, provoked by nothing — piled up in your brain. Each one harshened that sinking feeling inside your body. This kind of horror was the kind a person feels right before they die. 

How long have you been judged from above for your wrongs?

Were you already doomed to Hell? Is that why Lucifer himself wanted ‘to meet’ you? Did he make it a personal habit to visit each lowly sinner and taunt them?

God was real, so did everything actually happen for a reason like so many said? 

Why did bad things happen to good people? 

Was your dog in heaven, waiting for you and you’d already disappointed her by getting a one way ticket in the opposite direction?

———

You figured out that the ringing in your ears was actually your phone’s alarm when the natural lighting in your apartment was almost gone. 

You managed to get to it on the other side of the room half-stumbling from your seat. 

“Hello?” You rasped.

“… So you finally decided to answer your phone.”

———

It took you banging on the door and shouting against its old, glossy surface before Cass Farrow cracked it open. 

A myriad of expressions crossed her painted face before she opened the door fully. When she faced you, she smiled. 

“Honey! It’s been days! We didn’t wanna bother you but we were worried! It’s good to see you up and about!” 

The way she acted, as if nothing was wrong, as if the world had turned upside down, had you balling up your fists. Your ragged nails delved into the skin so deeply you could feel the sting of blood.

“I-I need…” You couldn’t stop the copper taste of saliva filling your mouth. 

You would not throw up. “I need to speak to your boss.”

Cass blinked owlishly at that. “My what?”

‘Why? Why? Why are you shocked?’ You shouted in your mind.

“Oh honey,” The low tone did nothing to soothe you, only raise your ire. “I don’t know what —” 

“The Devil!” Your raised voice made the elderly woman jump. “Or Lucifer, or Baphomet — whatever the fuck you call him! I need to talk to him.” 

You scrambled to grab the business card you’d stashed in your pocket. 

“You had him in your apartment, so I know he’s in there somewhere.” You said while waving it in Cass’s face frantically. 

It was deja vú when Mrs. Farrow eyed the card and her face paled considerably. 

“Oh.” 

———

Lucifer wasn’t ‘home’. At least, he wasn’t in his personal Airbnb via the Farrow residence. 

However, Cass waved it away. “He’ll think it’s you or about you or something to do with you and come running.”

Trying to push yourself and demand she tell you more proved to be too difficult. All you could do is stand with your arms crossed, waiting while the (clearly practiced) worshiper combined a series of dried plants in her hands. 

Cass gathered them up and laid them carefully on a side table before fiddling with the furnace and a long lighted match.  

The fire blazed to life instantly from the little flicker it had begun as when Cass threw the plants in. It rose higher, and higher, until it had disappeared past where you could see behind the lintel. 

You had it in you to be stunned when Lucifer appeared from out of those flames. He was perfectly pristine and intact when he stepped out, hunching slightly to avoid his top hat bumping into the smoke chamber. 

The devil was as you remembered him, but also worse in that you couldn’t reassure yourself that his visage was merely a product of your fucked up, overly-imaginative little brain. 

He was so… white.

His skin was practically blinding as freshly-painted walls hit by a sunbeam. 

Lucifer stepped into the room with a flourish. “I came as soon as I coul-”

‘Fuck.’ You’d been spotted. 

And there went Cass, out of the living room to hide away in her smelly kitchen. 

“You’re here!” Lucifer cajoled, theatrics on full display as he beheld your presence. 

The top hat came off, held in his hands as he graced you with a bashful smile like he was some gentleman caller and not Not-Satan. 

“I-I didn’t expect to see you here waiting! But I’m so glad you are. Did you get my card? I thought about just leaving the glove because the card can seem so impersonal —”

“I just got fired.” You blurted out. 

The unusually flat face contorted into an anguished expression. “You… you lost your job…?”

“Because of you.” 

“B-because of me ?!” His already youthful tenor of a  voice raised some octaves. “What —”

You pointed a finger in his direction. “Yes! You !”

“You appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my entire worldview. I've had existential crisis-es… cris-ies? I don’t fucking — I’ve had life-altering spirals before but that was fucking nothing compared with this!” 

“And now I’m out of a job and I’m alone in a city I don’t fucking know with cult-worshipping neighbors because I can’t go back to where I was and you’re just standing here like you have no idea why I’m upset!” 

You hadn’t expected to get this far. You hadn’t expected to go on a tirade at all, really. Distantly you felt tears sliding down your cheeks and the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage. 

Shame, guilt and fear began toiling deep inside you. 

Lucifer had been backed against the wall, hands raised placatingly and expression mirroring your own internal panic. It quickly turned into concern as he took in your sorry state of being. 

“Please, no.” He reached out for you and you retaliated by jolting out of reach. “Oh please don’t… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I never… if I’d known…”

He was reaching into his coat and pulling something out before your sight cleared. It was a handkerchief with the red moniker L.M. on one corner. 

The King held it out to you like a peace offering. Or a white flag.

The force with which you snatched it out of his hands was unnecessary but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You said you picked me. What did you mean by that?” You mumbled into the handkerchief. 

Lucifer’s mouth screwed up into a frown, brow creasing. “We don’t have to talk about that —”

“No.” You made eye contact, watching him squirm. “We need to talk about it. Explain it. Now.”

“Ahh… ok, yes, um…” He fiddled with the bow tie at his collar. “Well, like I said before, I wanted to wait until we got to know each other because… because it’s kind of a big deal.” 

Your stern frown implored him to continue.

Lucifer winced. “It’s sort of a-a favor I wanted to ask of you. And I thought that if we talked about it over time maybe it wouldn’t sound so monumental… but actually, now…”

The fidgeting worsened, and his nimble fingers had graduated to fussing with the clasps down his front. Eventually, Lucifer yanked his jacket down to straighten it. 

“So, I’ve been around for a really, really, really, really long time.” The Devil started. “And I’ve kind of been on my own for *like* ever and that’s fine, whatever, can’t complain. Normally it’s all about warding off boredom.

“But! Lately, it’s been harder and harder to just —” He made a fist and punched down onto the palm of his other hand to elucidate. “— Just, ahh, not be bored? I guess?”

“And it’s been interfering with all the shit I gotta do. I mean I have no-oo motivation, none at all, and it’s becoming a big problem. The other Sins have actually noticed. Like Satan? You know, we talked about him when we met — yeah, he came up to me not too long ago, saying —”

Your heart stopped as Lucifer’s eyes went completely red, blazing in his skull like magma and accompanied by long horns protruding from his head. 

His voice took on an unearthly, gravelly quality as he, presumably, mimicked Satan: 

“‘We’re worried for you, man. Ozzie says you haven’t been returning his calls. Levi and Bee miss you on their outings but you always say you’re busy. Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to us, right?’”

Lucifer was back to normal in a millisecond. “And I do know that. I do! But as much as I wanna take them up on it, I just feel like none of them will really understand what’s wrong. I don’t even understand it. Or at least I didn’t until it came to me out of nowhere, like lightning.” 

He mimed being zapped in the head.

“Visits and parties with my brothers are fun and all, but they end... And I find myself all alone more often than not.”

Lucifer sighed deeply. 

“I don’t really have anything to live for,” He stressed. “Except for myself and…” 

“That’s not much.” He snickered mirthlessly. 

You swallowed. The anger, frustration, exhaustion and still-present fear were blanketed by an uncomfortable bout of sympathy. 

Sympathy for the Devil. 

‘Oh shut the fuck up you.’

“Don’t you live for the suffering of mankind or something?” You sniffled, trying to regain your metaphorical footing in the conversation and, in turn, regenerate that anger you’d been consumed by not a minute ago. 

Lucifer looked from the ground to you, the gleam in his cherry-red eyes fighting to come back to life.

“Aha! No, no. That’s-that’s a Bible thing, right?” He groaned, pulling down the brim of his hat in exasperation. “Ugh, I still don’t know why Heaven insists on that overblown press kit! It’s so fucking old! And inaccurate!” 

Lucifer commiserated with you. “Too much involvement from human hands, too. Ya know? I mean people use it to justify some of the most insane shit I’ve ever seen!”

He cleared his throat at your blank expression. 

“Anywho-oo. What was the question again? Oh! Oh, do I live for the suffering of man — no! No, I don’t. In fact, where I’m from? Being in the middle of that suffering shtick gets old real fast. I’ve stayed away from it for a good while now and really I’ve never been better.”

The blond topped off his statement with a smile, showing those razor teeth while also trying to come across as easy-going and candid. 

A beat passed, in which you felt your lips form a thin line. 

You couldn’t stop yourself. 

You snorted. 

Lucifer looked at you as if you’d lost your head as your snorts turned into full-blown laughter. Until he, of course, wanted to fit in like he knew exactly what was going on. 

“Hahaha, yeah…” Hell’s king chuckled nervously. “I am pretty funny, aren’t I? Ha ha… ha.”

 Shaking your head ‘no’, you tried to reign in the body spasms. 

“So when you say you ‘picked me’, you mean you want me to… what? Be your therapist?” You asked. “The Devil needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on? What?” 

Lucifer fixed you with the first look of genuine annoyance you’d seen (directed at you) from him. 

“No.” He harrumphed. “I need a baby.” 

*

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision

I'm so sorry if I missed anyone who asked to be tagged! I'm having a hard time keeping track.

[garoujo]

TRY TO KEEP QUIET — GENSHIN IMPACT

feat : heizou, diluc, al-haitham, cyno + kazuha

♱ warnings — f!reader, exhibitionism, fingering, darknight hero diluc, teasing.

♱ note — this post is separate from kinktober cause i couldn’t help myself so consider this one a freebie <3

・✶ ｡ﾟSHIKANOIN HEIZOU

you couldn’t help the desire that seemed to consume you whenever you visited heizou at the police station. he knew exactly what he was doing as he flirted with you so shamelessly, luring you into one of the interrogation offices under the veil of ‘having something to discuss with his s/o’

“well how about if anyone asks.. we consider this, a new.. interrogation technique.” heizou whispers into your ear from where his body is curling over yours, his hips pressed flush against your own before he’s drawing back out of you with a languid roll of his hips. “what if we get caught? wont you g-get in trouble.” you’re trying so desperately to keep quiet, but you know he’s deliberately trying to pull the pretty sounds out of you that he loves so much when he sinks his cock back into your pussy — grinding his pelvis against your clit with a stifled moan.

“hm, there’s no need to worry.. if you’re able to keep quiet, that is.” he’s teasing you, you can tell by the low drawl that heizou’s voice takes and the way his lips deliberately ghost along the shell of your ear, followed by another deep kiss of his cock along the swollen spots inside of you as he keeps you pinned to the interrogation table. “oh, and i’ll make sure i’m the only one to see you like this.. call me greedy, i guess.” the pace he sets is anything but discreet, every wet connection of his hips into yours feeling like it echos around the small, darkened room.

“man alive, hnnn.. it seems you’re getting tighter.” heizou grunts, almost shamelessly before it breaks off into something whispery that makes your pussy squeeze around him. “you’re g-going to get us caught.” you’re barely able to hold yourself together but you still manage to tug playfully at his hair, but it seems to only make the detective above you feel even better as his cock throbs — lips grazing along the sensitive spots along your neck as he humps his cock into your pussy. “well now, i never said i’d be able to hold myself back, did i? it’s to be expected when you feel this good after all.”

・✶ ｡ﾟDILUC RAGNVINDR

you couldn’t help but feel lonely some nights, allowing yourself to take a stroll around mondstat, you felt safe there knowing it was being dutifully watched over. but some nights you’re lucky enough to run into the ‘darknight hero’ as he was known, and you think he deserves a reward after all the work he’s doing for your home town.

“do you have any idea what you do to me?” diluc grunts from where he’s pressing into you, his muscled body keeping you caged against the darkened alley wall behind angel’s share while he ruthlessly slams his cock into your stretched cunt, one of your thighs messily pulled over his hips while the other desperately tries to keep you upright with how good he’s fucking you. “how about you show me, darknight hero?” he’s powerless, weak, you were exquisite from where you’re blinking up at him — so beautiful on the end of his cock and he’s never felt so bested by anyone in his life like he does you.

“i f-fear i won’t be able to hold myself back.” “then don’t.” your reply is quick, making diluc grunt with the next intoxicating squeeze of your cunt around him — like you’re trying to convince him to let his desire for you consume him, even just for a night. his grip suddenly turns bruising as he keeps you pressed against him—your body jolting with each crushing thrust, driven by the weight of his trained body and you mewl, shamelessly when he glides along the sweet spots inside you that have you trembling, pretty tears gathering at your lashes.“shhh.. i don’t want us to be interrupted, sweetheart. ughhh.. i’m not done with you.”

the blunt head of diluc’s cock is kissing every part of you and you feel it thicken, throb inside you’re already clenching walls despite his words. you toss your head back against the wall, jolting when he suddenly slides a hand between your two bodies—the other squeezing your thigh to keep you upright as he messily rubs at your clit. “archons.. you are, beautiful.” the sensitive bud is already swollen and puffy from the grind of his pelvis, and you feel him press his lips to yours in the hopes of swallowing the pretty sounds you’re making for him. “is the darknight hero really a softie?” “only for you, it seems.”

・✶ ｡ﾟAL-HAITHAM

there was something alluring about al-haitham, the looks he’d send you as he made his way around the akademiya. you’d expect him to be a little more reserved as the scribe, so lead by example as a scholar but he’s just as daring as he is handsome, and he could never resist the sight of your pretty pussy spread around his cock.

“haitham.. you’re going to get us caught!” you gasp from where al-haitham is grinding his cock into your cunt, one of his biceps hooked around your hips as he keeps you pressed to the bookcase in a secluded corner of the akademiya. “oh, is that right? but i’m not the one being so loud, am i?” he grunts as his sharp gaze cuts through you — blown and heavy lidded followed by a deliberately, sharp push of his cock inside of you that feels like it reaches even deeper than it already was. you know despite his words, he wants you to be louder — to let him hear the pretty sounds he can dig up out of you.

“it’s not my fault you looked so irresistible, sweetheart. weren’t you the one who told me you couldn’t wait until we got home, or was that a lie?” al-haitham’s voice is wound so tight as he grits his teeth, the rut of his hips only growing heavier with the need that he feels lick at his spine — every thrust jostling the book case behind you as you try to grab onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “n-no, i needed you—fuck.” your voice comes out needier than you expected and you hear him chuckle in response, still finding the energy to tease you despite the spark of his orgasm in his abdomen.

“oh yeah? then let me feel you cum.. that’s what you wanted after all, right?” it’s almost a challenge, but his words are followed by a particularly sharp thrust of his cock before one of his hands smoothes between your thighs. you feel his fingers take their place between your folds, rubbing your puffy clit in sticky circles until he can feel you twitch around him, squeezing so tight it’s like you’re trying to milk him, your words reducing you to mumbled moans of his name and heavy breathes as his cock pushes against your sweet spots perfectly. “oh? don’t hold back on me now, sweetheart.”

・✶ ｡ﾟCYNO

you always thought it was charming how easily you could wind up cyno, when the adrenaline after a fight is still coursing through his veins and the first featherlight touch of your fingers along his bare chest has him heavy lidded. his cock twitching behind his uniform as he clears his throat to stifle a groan. “we should get going..” “not yet”

“hm, was this your plan to get me to rest?” cyno asks from where he’s sat beneath you, resting against one of the larger rocks in the desert as you grind yourself down on his cock — letting it kiss along your sweet spots as you his body rocks seamlessly with yours. he’s trying his best to remain composed but it’s almost melting entirely with the next tight, needy twitch of your walls around him, making him choke on a sharp groan as his hips meet each of your movements with eager humps of his own. “maybe, but i think you needed this just as much as i did.”

“you know i would.. n-never decline your offer.” it was so intoxicating watching the former general mahamatra crumble beneath you, his toes curling in the sand as he presses himself deeper against the brick behind him — trying to bite down on his lower lip as to not alert any enemies who could be lurking near by. “you sure you’re not just as needy as i am?” you gasp as you bounce yourself along his cock, pushing your chest closer against cyno’s exposed one as you feel his nails dig crescent moons into your skin — so overwhelmed by the pleasure that you always seem to dig out of him.

“heh, maybe.. after all, you might just be my weakness it seems.” he’s already so close, feeling something other than the desert heat burst and warm along his thighs as he trembles on a thrust, pulling you closer as he hooks his arms around your waist. the back and forth stutter of cyno’s hips into yours only grows needier, a little more desperate with the heat of desire sparking along his veins, your finger twisting in his hair as he lets his head fall back to moan. “ugh.. but i guess we can rest a little.”

・✶ ｡ﾟKAEDEHARA KAZUHA

anyone who didn’t really know kazuha would think that he polite and well behaved, but you knew that he was a tease because you were the one who had to deal with his neediness. feeling his wrapped fingertips trace their way up the inside of your thigh underneath the dinner table while he gives you a good-natured, innocent grin.

“oh, what’s all this from?” kazuha hums in your ear as he presses himself into your side, his tone a smooth whisper despite the teasing lilt that laces it as his fingers swipe through your folds underneath the table. your hands are gripping the edge as you both sit surrounded by his shipmates, but you feel like you’re about to lose your mind when you feel the blonde next to you slip his index finger into your flexing cunt. hearing an almost pleased chuckle from his lips when he’s not met with much resistance, and you can only suck your lower lip between your teeth in an attempt to stifle your moan.

“it’s like you’re sucking me right in, you’re so wet.” you couldn’t lie that you loved the way kazuha worshiped your body, always finding himself blown away by every part of you. but that also meant that it was hard for him to keep his hands off of you when you always looked so irresistible to him. “s-someone might see.” you gasp as you try to close your thighs around his wrist, but the featherlight touch of his other hand makes you melt when he squeezes at your thighs to keep you spread. “don’t worry about that, this sight is only for me ofcourse.”

your eyes are unfocused as you try to look around for any prying eyes, but you can still sense the dreamy look on kazuha’s face as he gazes at you, pushing another finger in to join the first before he’s angling them against the sweet spot inside of you, the one that has your thighs twitching and a pleasurable heat building in your stomach. you feel like you might pass out with how good you feel, a needy mewl escaping from your pursed lips as you try to cover it up with a cough — drawing some unwanted attention before you feel your boyfriend’s lips press against your ear, seizing the opportunity to avoid suspicion. “oh? are you doing okay? how about i take you to my room and you can rest with me a little?”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[redskull199987]

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation. 

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row. 

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

 But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time. 

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ vampire love

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary : they were each others’ go-to hookup in highschool, chris is back in town and y/n surprises him at his window. based on “vampire love” by yung bruh.

warnings : basically pure smuttttt :P & they’re both just whiney and horny idk. they get fluffy at the end tho

mickey speaks : uhhhh 1st post & im showing my whorism already !!!! oops

Y/N - 12:56 AM

are u home?

CHRIS

yea i landed this morning

Y/N

u never told me ☹️☹️

CHRIS

i know it was a busy day for me

CHRIS

i’m sorry

Y/N

well wyd right now?

CHRIS

texting u 😘

Y/N

cornball. go back to LA

CHRIS

nah im actually just sitting here watching

family guy in nick’s room

Y/N

tell nick i say hi aw

Y/N

i missed u guys

CHRIS

i missed you bruh

CHRIS

i wanna see u but i don’t want u

leaving the house this late for me

CHRIS

i’ll def come see you tomorrow tho

Y/N

oh??? that’s crazy bc i would get

“come over” texts from u at 3 am

in highschool 😭😭

Y/N

like who am i speaking to rn

CHRIS

a gentleman tf🤦‍♂️🤷‍♂️!!!

message laughed at by Y/N !

౨ৎ

Y/N - 1:23 AM

you still watching tv?

CHRIS

nah i’m in my room now

Y/N

oh ok

Y/N

sooo.

Y/N

i’m at your house????

CHRIS

WHAT

Y/N

window …😊😊

chris immediately shuffles from his bed over to his window, seeing you with your face illuminated by your phone light.

he smiles and goes to text you,

CHRIS

what r u waiting for?? get up here

he looks back to see you roll your eyes in response and begin to move the same ladder you used in highschool over to chris’ window.

chris pries open the window with his bottom lip comfortably tucked in his mouth. he peeks his head out and can’t help but commentate on your situation as you focus heavily on making it up the rickety ladder. “she couldn’t wait twelve hours to see her man, wow. i must be something special, huh?”

you move your focus from your careful footsteps, up to chris, with a smug look and fuckass hat on his head. “maybe she was just a little horny and very bored.”

“she could’ve gone to sleep like someone normal.” he teases more, leaning back as she’s now made it up to his level.

he reaches his hand out and helps her into his room, “does he not want to fuck her or…?” she tilts her head and watches chris close his window.

“shut up,” he laughs a little walking towards her and pulling her into a hug (he makes sure to hold the sides of your bare hips that you purposely have on display, just so you know he saw and he appreciates it) which you embrace deeply. “hottest bitch alive,” he laughs into your hair.

you push him away, laughing at the old inside joke (before anything had happened between the two of you chris took a hit or two from a joint sophomore year of highschool and revealed his attraction to you, declaring you “the hottest bitch alive,” and of course you teased him but none the less took it as a compliment).

he hooks his hand on the waist band of your small shorts before you can get far, pulling you back and laying a soft, short kiss on your lips.

your head is at an angle looking up to him and the corners of your mouth begin to upturn as you chase his initial kiss with another and another, building passion with every connection.

he deepens the kiss while moving backwards towards the black couch at the foot of his bed. upon reaching it you push him gently causing him to fall back onto the plush surface. he draws his hand across his now wet lips as a smirk crosses his face.

chris pats his lap anticipating your willing obedience, only for you to step back and remove your teddy bear slippers you hadn’t gotten the chance to take off yet. he chuckles a little and removes his hat, throwing it behind him onto his bed, and moving his arm to rest behind his head as he lazily watches your every move.

your loose tank top and lack of bra leave little to imagine as you walk back towards him and crawl onto his lap. you try not to let the dopey grin that’s etched on his mouth effect you too much as you move his hands to hold your ass.

he begins to kiss you again, a little harder than before and adding the aspect of his tongue to explore parts of your mouth he hadn’t seen in some time. your hands ghost up his neck and one hand holds there while the other moves to his cheek.

you begin grinding yourself against his lap and he disconnects your lips to hiss at the sensation before kissing up and down your neck slowly.

girl lay yo body down on that fuckin couch

when you begin to moan lowly and grind yourself harder chris lifts you off of his lap and lays you on the couch, now hovering over you.

you’re annoyed by the loss of stimulation and groan, “come backk.” you pull at his white wife beater and chase his lips with your own.

“shhh” he whispers against your pouted lips, dragging himself down to settle on the floor below you, guiding his face between your legs and making them fall on either side of his head.

open up your legs i’m gon’ work my mouth

you whimper and suck your bottom lip in your mouth when he starts to leave kisses and nibbles on your inner thighs. he’s carefully avoiding your clothed center, taking his time loving on you.

“chris,” you let out a breathy whine and reach for his hand, bold enough to place it right at your lower tummy and waistband of your tiny fucking shorts.

chris hums against your center, finally looking up at you with droopy, infatuated eyes. you caress his hand to encourage him to adventure further into your heat.

as much as he loves to tease, his fingers curl and grip the waistband as his fingers dance along the small string of your thong. he smiles at the thought of you putting it on just for him tonight.

“baby, please,” you whine again, louder.

try not to make a sound this my momma house

he kisses the space between your center and thigh, the closest he’s gotten to where you need him most at this point. “shhh, i’ll give you what you want. jus’ gotta be quiet, ‘kay?” he mews before he presses a gentle kiss to your clothed cunt.

you just about sob and fight the urge to push your shorts to the side and force his head down yourself.

he finally sits back on his legs, moving his hands slowly up your legs. “god damn, you’re so precious,” he rasps with a smile as he slowly lowers your shorts down your legs.

“just for you,” you breathe when he’s finally pulls your shorts off and throws them behind him.

“how sweet,” he kisses your ankle before hooking it over his shoulder. chris stares up at you before his eyes flick down to your dripping core, leaving a wet spot at the center of your tiny thong.

he groans at the sight and uses his right hand to pull the cloth to the side as his left hand rubs across your lower stomach leaving butterflies in its path. he moves his index finger through your soaked folds causing you to let out a hushed yet sharp moan.

chris uses your sound of pleasure as encouragement when he dips his tongue into you continuously. when you start to buck into his face he uses his arm to hold your leg (that’s not over his shoulder) down against the couch.

your soft moans are harmonious and you watch as chris closes his eyes and begins to fully enjoy licking at your core. he moves to kiss your thigh again, replacing his mouth with his fingers entering in and out of you slowly. you watch him as he focuses on his fingers’ every move and enjoys his front row viewing of your body’s appreciation of him.

he blissfully lays his cheek on your inner thigh when you bring your hand down to his face and comb through his hair to pull his attention back to your face rather than your pussy.

he shifts his eyes up and you draw your finger across his swollen bottom lip. he slowly smiles at you before speaking, “wanna cum, hmm?”

and to his surprise you shake your head no and begin to take his fingers out of you and bring them up to your mouth.

chris lets out a whiney moan and drags himself up to be face to face with you as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, tasting every bit of yourself. “so fucking hot.” he whispers and replaced his fingers with a rough kiss to your mouth.

you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck while he continues to kiss you. you can feel him moving underneath you to grind his hardened center against the couch cushion so you pull away from him and tell him to sit down instead.

he nods his head and you both trade positions; your face now level with his lower half just as his once was with your own.

you run your hands up his covered legs and towards his hard center and begin to stroke him through his sweats. he lets out a relieved breath as he watches you and anticipates your descent further.

you adjust your position and pull down his boxers and sweatpants just far enough that you can pull out his pulsing member. chris throws his head back and covers his eyes with his hands at the sensation of your thumb circling his sensitive head.

that bitch gon’ give me top, that’s without a doubt

you pump long, slow strokes along his cock while starring up at him hazily. you begin to feel annoyed by his lack of eye contact and pull his attention by guiding him into your mouth.

chris lets a choked moan escape and looks down to you, with a mouthful of his dick and glossy eyes, looking back up at him. his mouth is hung open subconsciously as he fights back his own excessive moans, instead he gathers your hair for you and uses all of his might to not fuck your face.

once you build a rhythm you take him further until he’s fully buried and slightly curved down your throat. his moan comes out in fractures and his grip on your hair grows tighter. “you’re so good to me,” he whispers. you go to move but stop once he pleads, “wait! no, please jus’ just stay right there, baby.” so you begin to focus on breathing through your nose as he holds your head back down.

you stay for a few moments and when you finally gag and pull off of him he thrusts up into air to almost chase the feeling while you gather yourself. “you okay?” his face is pulled tight together but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s concerned for you or his own orgasm.

you nod and his senses are heightened as you start to stroke his cock a few more times but before he can finish you confess, “baby, i want you to fuck me now…”

he gathers your face in his hands and rubs your cheek, “you know i will… but first can i cum, please?”

you shake your head with a smirk, kissing his inner hand but before you rise to your feet you kiss the top of his sensitive dick, to which he uncontrollably spills a small amount of his cum onto your lips.

he feels a little humiliated at his lack of control. “fuck. ‘m sorry i didn’t mean to-” but chris can feel his stomach recoil as he attempts to fight off finishing all over your face right now.

he watches intensely as you lick your lips slowly, tasting every bit of him, before you stand up (your thong showing every inch of your full ass while you walk) and go to lay on his bed. he can no longer see you but he takes the hint when your small tank top is thrown at him.

he exhales and begins to fully remove his clothes as well. he joins you in his bed to see you bare and sprawled out, your fingers tapping softly at your clit.

you whimper when you dip your fingers inside of you then bring them up to his mouth. he hums and sticks his tongue out. you drag your fingers across it before he’s wrapping his lips around them and sucking hard.

you bite your lip at the sight of chris being so willing and eager.

he pulls them from his mouth and smiles while guiding your hand between you both to grab his needy cock. “please.” is all he says before he kisses you.

you pump him a few times before guiding him into you slowly, to which chris moans directly over your mouth, eyes slightly rolled back. you quiet him gently by kissing him again.

i fuck her like a god, that’s without a doubt

he continues the slow pace you began as he guides himself fully in and out of you. the silver of his necklace catches the light of the moon every so often making it gleam as it sways over your face. you find it so satisfying and pretty.

you suck on his neck and whisper that you need him to fuck you hard or not at all. he immediately is quickening his thrusts into you and you muffle a cry into his neck, clawing at his back with your manicured nails.

i got that pussy wet, that’s without a drought

you’re so slick that the sound of your skin slapping together is amplified and chris prays to fucking god his mother hasn’t found herself thirsty in the middle of a rem cycle.

“i need you chris, i need-“ your words spew out and he doesn’t let up, continuing his harsh pounds into your used center.

“hold on to it, baby. ‘m so close, please,” he reaches for your hands and holds them against the mattress on each side of your head as he continues to build to a climax.

you whine and he gives in to you easily. he removes one of his hands from holding yours to rub your clit harshly, “go ahead, give me everything then.”

he continues to thrust himself into you but his eyes stare intently at your face as you fall apart beneath him and squeeze around his length. you’re a moaning mess and he quickly puts his hand over your mouth until you’re spent.

the scene alone causes him to pull out of you and let out a series of low moans while his cum falls onto your lower stomach.

to make the most out of the overwhelming sensitivity you both feel, he immediately guides his cock through your folds, crying out at the intense stimulation. as you try to push him away, and whine his name telling him it’s so much.

he obliges and unknowingly blurts more cum on your thighs as he moves up to kiss you, out of breath.

he sucks your bottom lip for a second longer before pulling apart and whispering, “hold on.” your sleepy figure just nods up to him and he breathes out a laugh before finding his boxers on the floor and walking out quietly.

you try to keep your eyes open but it feels like forever when chris finally comes back with a damp wash cloth, two water bottles, and a bowl of washed grapes (??). your eyes open timidly at the small amount of light coming from his phone’s flashlight. you can see him wearing your teddy slippers though which makes you mentally laugh, but physically smile as he approaches you.

he places the items on a side table and begins to wipe your stomach off slowly, the warmth on the cloth soothing you further. “open your legs, please.” chris already had began to physically separate them but he asks you to open them so that you feel in control of yourself anyways.

“sweet girl,” he compliments and smiles as he wipes your thighs down, kissing your stomach again before making his way to throw the cloth into a laundry basket.

you hum at him and lift yourself up to watch as he opens one of his drawers and offers one of his t-shirts to you.

you slip it over your head easily and he hands you a water bottle and your phone before crawling into his bed with you. you curl up to his chest and he hands you the bowl of grapes which you don’t question because you’re hungry as fuck, why would you deny it?

you thank him and he thanks you for coming to see him tonight.

you both smile into a kiss and you continue to finish your grapes as he closes his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

🍊✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

AW! everyone cheered. and came (probably)

got inspo for the end bc of this lmao :

also go listen on spotify for vibes

[ellievickstar]

Is this Love?

A/N: So I wanted to do an an enemies to lovers and I thought: What better character to start with then Cardan Greenbriar. I really hope this is okay I know that @aroseinvelaris love the cruel prince so this is for you love <3

Summary: The king is the most infuriating person alive. But every time he looks at you, you feel your skin burn and your heart skips a beat. You hate the way he makes you feel alive, but you especially hate his obnoxiousness and horrible addiction to partying. However, after a night of drinking and reveling, what will you do when the King of Elfhame seeks you out?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x noble faerie!reader

Warnings: !!!Disclaimer!!!This does not follow the actual storyline, I’m kinda just winging it since it’s been some time since I’ve read the books and also I wanna get comfortable with the character first!!! Enemies to lovers, a bit toxic, intoxication, physical contact, being held against ones will

~*~*~*~*~

You wanted to kill him. “What. Did. You. Say.” You asked again, glaring at the King you were supposed to respect. You curled your fingers into a fist as they dug crescents into your palms. The king lazily smirked at your frustration, the papers you had given him falling out of his hand onto the floor.

“Your idea is dismal at best. It lacks any intellectual reasoning at it is also by far one of the worst that your family has ever presented me. You may be the representing noble, but honestly this presentation is just sad and pathetic,” You gaped, rolling your eyes as you snatched the papers from the ground, storming out of the room. That asshole. How dare he!? How dare he insult your ideas like that, knowing that you and your father had worked hard on those proposals together. How dare he insult your intelligence when he can barely even go a day without becoming intoxicated and doing something stupid at those parties he holds!

Fury bubbled within you as you stormed to your home. Waving your hands in the air as you ranted and raved about the King, you mumbled strings of curses and insults to yourself. That- That arsehole. That empty headed, intoxicated, narcissistic, egoistic, think-skulled arsehole. Start praying that he becomes sober because one more word out of that mouth will get him killed, either by your hands or some pissed-off royal from another far away powerful land.

Slamming the papers onto the table of your office, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the armchair behind you. Being one of Elfhame's few females that is a representing noble for her family was far from easy. Especially when that lazy dumbass king that sat on his ass and drank all day already had prejudices against you since you were both children. You might have to reconsider killing him because, well, why not? Cardan Greenbriar is one of the most incompetent people in the entire kingdom and he still dared to insult YOUR intelligence. A scholar, the same lady who literally saved him from being murdered at the coronation. The absolute audacity!

You growled impatiently as you ran your hands through your hair. Sure, you might not be the oldest noble, but he hadn't even spared you a thought before tossing your ideas down the drain. What was so terrible about giving free education to poorer families in Elfhame? Was he so narrow-minded, so spoiled, so entitled, that he didn't realise that there are still fae out there suffering!?

"I guess it's back to the drawing board huh!?" You whipped your head around to your father. He smiled at you, crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes, his hair white, his skin sunken and wrinkled. Human. Your father was human. Your mother had been the fae one, though she died at birth. However, you never felt her absence as your father had never let you doubt for one moment that you were absolutely loved. You softened at the sight of your father. He was old, weak. Definitely not things that were valued by the fae. And if it hadn’t been for your fae heritage and your father’s deep-rooted connections, you could be living a very different life.

“I’ll worry about that, you just rest, Pa,” Prompting your father gently to go to bed. He nodded, pride shining in his eyes, as he walked out humming a simple tune. Your heart broke at the thought of living a life after he dies, but it was inevitable. You had to figure this out on your own. Lest, Mr. I-hate-everything, would be breathing down your neck.

Sighing, you turned to your desk, riddled with stacks if loose papers and books. You had to figure something out, present something, you promised yourself. You would not let the king trample your idea of a better Elfhame.

~*~*~*~*~

You were…..so tired. Well that was one way to put it. How did some humans do this their whole lives? You had pulled an all-nighter to rewrite the reports that the King wanted and you couldn’t believe how truly exhausted you were. When you heard from your father that some humans do this from the time they are in middle school, you wanted to faint. You could barely hold it together as you changed clothes into a formal gown.

Regardless, it was done. Thankfully, you were finally done with the piles of work that you had delayed for so long. If you were lucky, the King would give you a day off. Trudging to the Palace of Elfhame, you let out a sigh as you smoothed down your skirts once more. Approaching the doors, you flinched when you heard laughter and the cacophony of a party from the inside.

“When will someone finally have a vendetta against me and murder me in my sleep,” You mumbled as you pushed open the doors, faltering slightly as you noticed the insane amount of people dancing and laughing under the influence. At the centre of it all, Cardan lazed on his throne, grinning as he held a goblet of what you guessed was a mixture of his favourite alcohols.

You were about to turn around and leave, however Cardan spotted you and promptly called out your name above the loud and jarring music. Realising that he was probably drunk and wouldn’t remember this anyways, you continued walking, huffing to yourself when you heard footsteps following you. Cardan’s footsteps.

“Wait! Would you listen to your King and just wait!?” You ignored him, despite your efforts, he still caught up to you, stepping in front of you to block your path. He reeked of alcohol, and….was that substances?

“Are you high!? And drunk!? It’s not even a weekend Cardan!” You yelled in his face. If he was both of those things he wouldn’t remember this anyways, so might as well get it off your chest. “You are so infuriating, you are not responsible, you barely make right judgments without your advisors, you are always a little bit drunk. You are not fit to be King. Let’s not even mention the fact that you always look down on me for being half-human! I hope yo-,” You couldn’t finish your sentence as you kept trying to shove Cardan, because as you tried to continue screaming at him, he caught your wrist and pulled you in roughly, meeting your with a kiss.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I don’t know about this….but eh. No harm no foul in trying. Honestly, I don’t think this is the worst fic I have ever written. So- I hope you had fun reading this. I had a little fun writing this. See you next time <3

(ALSO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS)

tag list: none for this character yet

[sitp-recs]

Top five smutty fics/moments in fic please Livvy (and they can't all be from euphoria 🧐)

You know me all too well babes 🤡 lol yeah I could definitely do a top 5 just for Euphoria, considering the amount of hot stuff in there (and the amount of times I’ve read it 🌝). This was hard enough for Drarry so I’m not including rare pairs this time. Here are my top memorable scenes - funny, no matter how much filth I read it’s always the tenderness that sticks with me…

1. Far From Tree by aideomai

He rocked into Potter, slow and then again, and Potter said, voice shaking, “You’re inside me,” and Draco almost sobbed. It felt overwhelming, too much.

“Draco,” Potter said. He turned his face and they kissed slowly, barely moving. A long, golden kiss, and it still didn’t feel close enough. Draco wanted to crawl into Potter’s skin and live there. He wanted to eat him alive.

“Okay,” Potter said, “okay, okay,” and wriggled, demanding, and Draco did fuck him then, sure and easy, Potter’s thigh lifting up into his hold, his back arching up, his mouth open as Draco knocked shocked, pleased noises from him. They were getting loud, getting fast, the hot blur of it, and then Potter hooked his arm around Draco’s neck and drew him down and they were kissing again, rough and clumsy, the sharp tap-tap-tap of Draco’s hips knocking them off balance.

“Darling,” Draco said, muddled against his mouth, half out of his head with pleasure, “darling, darling,” and Potter, gasping, said, “Again.” Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted the fuck or the names that spilled out of him without meaning to, the embarrassing, heavy-handed adoration, and so Draco gave him both.

2. The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered

“I know it’s stupid,” Malfoy said, “but I don’t want you to be with anybody else.” Harry thought of Rabbit.

“Look at me,” Malfoy said, and turned Harry's chin. Harry looked, watched Malfoy taking him, watched as his own hips came up to help him. “I want you to know it’s me,” Malfoy said. “It’s me taking you. Me fucking you. Me packed tight inside of you. Hold on, Harry.”

He was almost all the way out of Harry, he had pulled so far out, but now he slammed back in, head thrown back. It was harder and more brutal than his other thrusts, and it felt so deep and large, it hit the spot just perfectly, and Harry thought he might come without Malfoy even touching his cock. “That was a good one, wasn't it,” Malfoy said, and kissed him. “If you're good, I’ll give it to you again.”

“God, Malfoy. Do it.”

“I will,” Malfoy said, but now his thrusts were slow again, lazy. “Focus on me, Harry. Don’t think of anything else.” Then he did it again, thrusting hard and very fast, and Harry writhed. “It’s me,” Malfoy said again. “Don’t think of anyone else. Don’t think of anything else. It’s me. You can only think of me.”

3. Wild, orphaned

“Sometime,” Potter said, with a look on his face Draco didn’t quite recognise, “I’m going to make you ask for this.”

“I’m already asking,” Draco replied, parting his legs, drawing one knee up to his chest. Potter put his thumb back onto Draco’s arsehole for a few seconds, before replacing it with the head of his dick. He left it there, while Draco breathed in and out and tried not to push himself backwards onto it.

“No,” Potter said, “Like--” he cut off and wrapped his hand around Draco’s side, his fingers skimming over Draco’s hip bones. “Like, properly ask,” he said.

“Like beg?” Draco asked, turning to look. He smiled, syrupy and sweet. “Why would I need to beg, Potter? When you’re so eager to give it to me.”

4. What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym

“Harry,” Draco says, wondering, and Harry rolls his eyes and slams himself up, the first time, feels his whole body come alive with the sensation of Draco’s cock hitting hard against the back of his throat. Draco gets the idea and it’s quick, after that — he tightens his grip on Harry’s hair and fucks into Harry’s mouth and Harry lets him, encourages him, moans even as tears spring up at the corners of his eyes.

He grabs hold of Draco’s shirttails with both hands and holds on, and when he looks up to meet Draco’s eyes again Draco comes with a shout, body pitching forward, one hand still in Harry’s hair, the other landing on Harry’s shoulder to steady him. Harry sucks him through it, swallows down every drop before he lets Draco’s softening cock slip out of his mouth, and they’re both still for a second, gasping in the quiet room.

Then Draco says, “Merlin, Harry, that was so good,” and slips his hand down through Harry’s hair, strokes it over the nape of his neck. And Harry — he comes so hard and so quickly that it genuinely startles him, the orgasm shuddering through him before he even has the chance to process that it’s happening. He gasps, head crashing forward to land at Draco’s hip, and for a long moment he’s too overcome with the release of it to really register that he’s come in his pants like an actual fucking teenager, and that that is truly and properly mortifying.

5. Waiting by an Open Door by Femme

Draco leans back against Potter, arches back, his arms going backwards around Potter's neck. He lets Potter stroke his chest and praise him, tell him how brilliant he is, how amazing his feels around Potter's prick. It feels like it's been hours that they've been doing this, but it's only been a couple of minutes. The strangeness is shifting into pleasure, and when Potter circles his hips, his cock pressing further into Draco's body, Draco moans with the deep, satisfying ache of it. "Merlin, Potter. Again."

Potter leans forward, his mouth near Draco's ear. "Don't you think you should call me Harry if I'm fucking you?"

Draco smiles, leans his head back, seats himself more solidly on Potter's cock. "Why rush things?" He kisses Potter's jaw, bites the soft skin just below.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 6: The Secrets of The Red Keep 

In the Red Keep, it’s not just the rats that creep, but secrets too. And in the game of thrones, secrets kill as much as rats carrying plague do.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Lots of stuff happening, Viserys being an L as always, Y/N being kind of an ass, slow burnnnnnnnnnn

Word Count: 7.7k words (so. much. is. happening.) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out! 

A/N: Here it is, you guys! I’m so sorry it came later than expected 😭 and that it is much longer than expected too. But I snuck in a Daemon cameo at the end so 😁 I hope you guys enjoy! 

lovely dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​ !

It was drawing nigh six months since Prince Daemon’s disinheritance and subsequent departure to Dragonstone. All across the realm, winter had reached its end, and flecks of green have begun dotting the bare trees once more. The smallfolk’s chatter and laughter grew gradually in abundance, as with spring always comes the promise of new beginnings. 

The nobles too, harboured the hope for new beginnings. Gowns and coats of fur were swapped out for attire of lighter fabrics, and the misery caused by the chill of winter were replaced with eager ambition to propel themselves into the centre of power. And no one seemed to exemplify that more than the Lady Y/N Tyrell. 

Gone was the devoted, yet somewhat prickly and brash lady-in-waiting of the late Queen. In its place, was someone much changed. Where in the past she had served Queen Aemma, these days, she was akin to a second shadow to the Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne, even moreso than her usual companion, the Lady Alicent. The kinder whispers expressed gladness that the Lady Y/N had taken pity on the Princess, who had lost her mother at such a young age, and had stepped up as a maternal figure in an act of benevolence. The more vicious gossips, however, sniggered that mayhaps Lady Y/N had been possessed by the spirit of a particularly determined leech. “The rose sinks its thorns into another dragon after one passes,” they mocked. 

All these whispers you heard, but you simply did not possess the means to care. ‘Words are wind,’ you scoffed to yourself. Although…Tis’ true you were leveraging on your close connections with the Princess…but it was for self preservation. With Aemma and Daemon gone, you had gotten close to Rhaenyra, becoming something akin of a mother figure to her, which made your influence at court grow exponentially. Having the favour of the heir to the throne was a powerful thing, and you intended to use it to serve your own means. However, you couldn’t shake off your feeling of guilt for using Rhaenyra this way. You oft wondered if Aemma would approve of you doing so if she was still alive. But if she were…then there would have been no need for you to do this. You swallowed down the painful lump in your throat. It doesn’t matter now, you told yourself sternly. The dead are the dead, as Daemon said, and as long as you were alive, you would do whatever it takes to make sure you stayed at the Red Keep. 

You arrived at the castle sept, where Rhaenyra was standing to the side while Alicent was kneeling in the midst of prayer. You curtsied to Rhaenyra, whose face lit up as soon as she saw you, though it did little to lighten the visible gloom on her face. 

“Your Grace,” you greeted softly. “I told you so many times that you should call me by my name, Y/N,” Rhaenyra chided softly. You smiled apologetically, “Apologies, it is a force of habit.” Rhaenyra smiled wistfully, “You always called me by my name when Mother was…” her voice trailed off and her head drooped. You tilted your head in Alicent’s direction, “You’re not praying?” Rhaenyra hesitated, “I must confess that I’ve never really prayed before..” 

You smiled, guiding her to where Alicent was kneeling. “Well, no time to begin like the present, then.” You took notice of the figure she was praying to: The Mother. How fitting. 

Kneeling down next to Alicent, you felt Rhaenyra tentatively do so next to you. Alicent offered the both of you candles, and you showed Rhaenyra how to light them. The three of you knelt there in silence for a while, minds occupied with your own vastly different thoughts. “I find…” Alicent spoke gingerly, “That this is a way to be with my mother. Here in the quiet of the sept.” She hesitates, looking back at the statue of the Mother. “Does it sound foolish?” 

“I don’t think it sounds foolish,” Rhaenyra piped up next to you. 

Alicent smiled at that, before turning to you, observing how your eyes were watching the figure of the Mother pensively. “Do you pray often, Y/N?” You smiled wistfully, “Piety was never one of my stronger suits, I’m afraid. But I remember…when I lost my lady mother, I prayed day and night that I wouldn’t be sent back to Highgarden.” 

“You disliked your home?” Rhaenyra asked softly. You pondered over her question, before shaking your head slightly. “To me, Highgarden never really felt like home. Perhaps it was because I had been born and raised in the Red Keep for most of my days, but I consider King’s Landing to be my only home.” You didn’t tell her that it was the looming threat of your duties as the sole daughter of House Tyrell that kept you from recognising Highgarden as your home. Rhaenyra nodded sagely. 

“I’m…I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to pray to the Mother for,” Rhaenyra hesitantly says, “Should I pray for anything specific?” You smiled wistfully, “You only need to follow your heart. The Gods will listen to you if your sincerity can be felt.” Alicent nodded in agreement, and the three of you lapsed into silence once more, praying on your own. You closed your eyes, and Aemma flashed into your memories. She was always smiling at you then, and your heart ached deeply whenever you remembered her. 

“...the day of the tourney,” Alicent and Rhaenyra turned to you inquisitively, as you took a deep breath, letting the scent of the smoke sooth you, “I told you I was never religious, but that day…I prayed to the Mother fervently. For your mother, for Aemma to have a smooth labour.” You smiled bitterly, “But it seemed, the gods had a different plan for your mother.” 

Rhaenyra sniffled softly. “It feels refreshing to hear you talk about my mother,” she admits after a pause. “No one, not even Father, seems to want to talk about her. They always change the subject. It’s like her memory is something unpleasant. Something to be avoided..” 

You took her hand, feeling as though you might cry yourself. “The subject is painful,” she continues, “But I don’t want to forget. I don’t want anyone to forget. I cannot bear for my mother to only be spoken about in riddles and hushed tones. I want to remember her…I just don’t understand why Father doesn’t seem to want to.” 

Alicent glanced at the both of you, biting her lip softly. “When my mother died…my father and brother wanted to forget about her too. And admittedly, I did too.” You put your other hand on Alicent’s, and she smiled ruefully at you. “I hid my grief, trying to continue with my life with the same bravery my father and brother had…but I found myself unable to. So the sept is my refuge. It’s where I can express my grief without feeling like it’s something to be ashamed of.” 

“Grieving is nothing to be ashamed of,” you told her gently, “Grief is what keeps the memory of a person alive, even if they’ve long passed. To remember what kind of person they were to you, and to honour how they made you who you were now. Grief does a service to our loved ones who have passed.” 

Rhaenyra smiled bitterly, “I think Father needs to hear that.” You smiled at that, patting her hand softly, “Everyone grieves in their way, Rhaenyra. You might not see it, but I’m sure your father mourns your mother too, though it may be in a way different to yours.” 

Rhaenyra pondered on that, turning her gaze back to the candles. “...mayhaps you’re right.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back. You turned to look at Alicent, and she grasped your hand tightly in hers, her expression warm. Though getting close to both of them was naught but a political machination initially…you found yourself growing to care more and more for these two girls everyday. So different we all are, you thought to yourself, yet so similar we are too. You turned back to the Mother, as you said one last prayer to her, “I hope…that the three of us can always be like this. That no matter what, when the world seems bleak…we can all be truthful with one another, and depend on each other.” 

It has been six months, but you find that you are still unable to school your features into absolute indifference as you watch Viserys digging into his meal with a notable lack of enthusiasm. 

Pursing your lips, you focused your attention back onto cutting into the veal on your plate. Ever since Aemma’s death, you had been hesitant in seeking out Viserys’ company voluntarily, despite Daemon having advised you to take the opportunity to get close to Viserys for protection. Out of all of Daemon’s advice you had reluctantly heeded, this one unsettled you the most. But as it turned out, you had not needed to make the first move. Viserys had (quite unfortunately) taken to summoning you to his apartments more oft than not in the past six months for meals, or even just for idle conversation. And the usual topic of conversation? The late wife that Viserys had cut open. You would find it funny if the topic itself did not constantly make you want to hurl something at Viserys. Viserys seemed determined to cling onto the vestiges of Aemma’s memory through you, Aemma’s cherished companion. Although after today’s conversation at the sept, you found it strange that Viserys seemed reluctant to broach the topic of Aemma with Rhaenyra, but with you, it was different. Why exactly was it so, you did not know, but…as long as it kept you at the Red Keep, then you would stomach as many conversations as Viserys wanted to have about Aemma. 

Which was why you nearly dropped your fork when Viserys asked you if you knew about Daemon’s current occupation of Dragonstone. Clearing your throat, you deliberated on the reason for the sudden change of topic, but quickly answered, “It would be a miracle if someone had not heard about that.” Viserys chuckles, a rare deviation from his usual melancholic mood during your dinners. “As always, you are unfettered in your nature of speaking. I only wished more people would be like you.” 

You were unsure on how to respond to that. Viserys sighed, “It would not be such a bother if it had been only Daemon on the island, but he had to take nearly half the City Watch with him as well. Does he truly desire to wage war against me, his own brother? With that meagre army of his?” You recalled Daemon’s words that fateful night, and bit your lip. So this was what he meant. You knew that with Daemon’s abscondence along the City Watch, King’s Landing had became more susceptible to looting, raping and other violent crimes. The Small Council was oft engaged in heavy debate as of late on how to tackle this problem, and that must have been Daemon’s plan all along. To sow chaos in King’s Landing. You sighed, cutting into your veal. Daemon…he may not look it, but there is always a certain calculative edge to his seemingly impulsive actions. The promise to make a point. 

“I’ve half a mind to go to Dragonstone and confront him myself,” you snapped back to reality when you heard Viserys bang down his cutlery frustratedly. “If the Small Council had not dissuaded me otherwise, I would’ve done so.” You grimace, “Viserys, that would be unwise. You and I both know more than anyone of Daemon’s nature. He means to continue throwing this…tantrum so that he may garner your attention. You shouldn’t pay heed to his antics. Mayhaps he will come to his senses sooner or late.” 

“Mayhaps is a strange word for never,” Viserys muttered, picking up his fork and knife again. You stifled a laugh by lifting another spoonful of soup to your lips. “Regardless, it would not be fitting for you to go to Dragonstone. What would the realm say, seeing their king having to go and plead with his brother to curb his foolishness? The dissenters will see it as weakness, as they did with Aenys and Maegor. You should listen to your advisors’ counsel, Viserys.” Viserys sighed, leaning back against his seat. “I suppose you’re right. However; this leaves me at a bind on what to do with him. Lord Corlys has been singing this wretched tune for nigh six months, and he will continue to do so if I do not act soon to put Daemon in his place.”

The two of you lapsed into silence. You picked at the remaining veal on your plate anxiously. “And other than the mounting pressure to deal with Daemon, the Small Council, in particular Lord Corlys, has also been pushing me on the subject of remarriage.” You froze. “...remarriage?” Your heart was pounding furiously, having not expected this sudden turn of events. You knew it would be expected of Viserys to do so, to secure the line of succession, but he always seemed so catatonic in grief over Aemma that you thought he would never take a second wife. Moreover, should his new wife sire him sons, Rhaenyra’s claim would surely be disputed by the lords of the realm. Viserys nodded wearily, “Lord Corlys has even nominated a candidate, his own daughter, Lady Laena.” 

You wrinkled your nose, “Isn’t she naught but a girl of 12?” Viserys sighed, “Indeed. Much too young…though it seems not for Lord Corlys’ ambition.” You felt your appetite slip away at that. “And what do you think of this match?” Viserys smiles ruefully, “I was actually looking to hear your opinions. You always speak with unbridled truth, and it would do me good to hear from an unbiased perspective.” 

You purse your lips, surprised. He was asking for your opinion an awful lot these days. “If you’re seeking counsel on the qualities of Lady Laena, I must confess I do not have a clearly formed opinion. But speaking from a political perspective…it would be an advantageous match for both houses. It would join both of your houses of Valyrian blood in one once more.” Viserys lets out a soft snort, “Advantageous? Lord Corlys and my cousin only proposed this match to put their own blood on the throne. They care not for the unity of our houses. Lord Corlys only wishes to see a king of Velaryon blood on the Iron Throne, and to correct the slight that Rhaenys faced at the Great Council.” 

“Be that as it may,” you interjected, “You cannot deny it is a brilliant match. Is it not better to join the blood of the dragon in one single line again? This will prevent any more dragonriders from emerging from House Velaryon, and consolidate the power of House Targaryen in a single bloodline once more.” You were startled when Viserys suddenly let out a bark of laughter, “You know, you sound exactly like Daemon. With how the both of you are constantly stressing about the importance of retaining the power of House Targaryen.” You froze, feeling offended, but then the indignation fades away. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, after all, Daemon was the person who had opened your eyes to the naivety that blinded you from seeing reason in your grief. Instead of feeling insulted, you felt like you should feel…proud? You shuddered, the thought of being proud thanks to sharing qualities with Daemon fucking Targaryen of all people being too much to bear. 

Viserys lets out a slow exhale, looking regretful. “All this talk of remarriage sickens me,” Viserys mutters. “Because despite all this quibbling, nothing will ever come close to Aemma. I do not wish to replace her. I imagine she will be deeply upset at the thought of it.” 

You frowned, holding back the urge to shout at Viserys why he had chosen to cut Aemma open if that were the case. But alas, the truth oft can never be expressed freely. You took several deep breaths, formulating a response in your head, as you spoke gently, “Remarriage may seem daunting, Viserys, but it is inevitable. It is your duty to the realm, and I’m sure Aemma will understand that.” Viserys sighs before laughing softly, “I suppose you’re right, Y/N. Duty is inescapable, especially when you’re a king. Very well, I shall arrange to see Lady Laena to discuss a possible betrothal as soon as possible.” 

You did not know what to feel about that, happy? Aggrieved? Angry? “That reminds me,” Viserys spoke up, getting out of his seat and walking to you. You watched him curiously as he fumbled in his pockets to draw something out. “I…think that you should have this.” Your eyes widened when you saw that he was holding the ruby falcon necklace that Rhaenyra had gotten Aemma. “The Silent Sisters retrieved this from Aemma. I’ve held onto it for the past six months but,” Viserys smiled bitterly, “I felt like it would only be right for you to have this. Aemma was as dear to you as much as she was to me, and with my remarriage…I do not think it is right for me to hold on to it anymore.” You took the necklace gingerly and cradled it in your hands, feeling torn. Viserys put a hand on your shoulder gently, “Let this serve as not just a token of remembrance for Aemma…but also as one of gratitude. From me towards you for your counsel, steadfast loyalty, and friendship. I want you to know that despite how bereft I am over Aemma’s passing, I am thankful that you have continued to stay by my side.” Conflict consumed you as you looked up at your old friend. You thought you hated him for doing what he did to Aemma, but it seems your old friendship prevents you from detesting him completely. It was so difficult to completely hate someone who you've known your entire life, and has only looked out for you, despite his position of power. 

You rested your hand atop his and smiled tentatively, “Thank you, Viserys. This gesture means a lot to me…and I want you to know that I am grateful for you too. I will always be by your side, no matter what” Viserys flashed you a genuine smile for what seemed like the first time in months, “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” 

Two weeks later, you were striding towards Viserys’ solar, a book in your hands, a smile on your face. Viserys and you had been discussing about the structure of a temple of a Valyrian deity for the past few days, and you were delighted when you found a book that contained descriptions of how temples of that particular deity were constructed in the empire of Yi Ti and the Old Empire of Ghis, immediately setting off to Viserys’ chambers to share it with him. You also remembered that today was the day that Viserys was due to walk with the Lady Laena to discuss the marriage pact between their houses. You had no doubt he would be feeling discouraged after that, and you hoped the book would lift his spirits.  

You nodded at Ser Steffon Darklyn, who was standing guard outside the King’s solar, and bustled into the room like you did many times before. What you did not notice however, was the man’s panicked look as he remembered the King was busy with another visitor when you entered. 

You swept into Viserys’ solar, a grin on your face, “Viserys, I found something of interest-'' But you nearly dropped the tome as you came to a dead halt, staring at the dismayed figures of both King Viserys and Lady Alicent - who were far too close together for your liking - in shock. A dead silence blanketed the room, before Viserys began appealing to you, “Y/N, this is not what it looks like-” 

Suddenly, Ser Steffon’s voice came from the door, “Your Grace, the Hand is requesting for an audience.” Viserys sighed, looking between the door and your accusatory expression. “Let him in, Ser Steffon.” 

The Hand entered the room, bowing to the King. He didn’t seem surprised to see Alicent here, you realised with growing indignation. Otto Hightower, that cunt, looked a little taken aback at your presence, however it was quickly smoothed over by his grim expression. 

“Your Grace, I’ve called the Small Council to an emergency session. An incident has-” 

“Can the matter wait?” Viserys demanded, walking over to you, but you backed away, unable to look him in the eye as you tightened your grip on the ancient tome. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. There has been a problem,” Otto paused, eyeing you and Alicent, clearly unsure whether he should say it in front of the both of you. “At Dragonstone.” 

Daemon, your heart thudded in your chest. What did he do now? 

“Gods be good,” Viserys muttered. “I understand. I will be there shortly. I have a pressing matter at hand.” With that, Viserys turned to you, his expression becoming sombre as he murmured, “I think I owe you an explanation.” 

“You don’t,” you whisper, a betrayed look on your face. “You owe one to Lady Laena. To Rhaenyra. To Aemma.” 

Viserys sighed, suddenly looking like he aged five years in an instant. You were aware of the Hand’s heavy gaze upon you and Viserys, as well as Alicent’s anxious one. “I swear to the Seven that it is not what it looks like, Y/N.” 

“Then pray tell, whatever good reason can there be for this…gathering?” you whispered harshly. “This does not seem like a one-off incident, am I right?” 

“It is true this was not…a first occurrence,” Viserys looked nervously at Alicent, who was picking at her fingernails again. He placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. A sadness dawned in his eyes at your reaction, “I…I will explain it all to you later. But I need you to swear to me that you will not tell Rhaenyra. I’m afraid she will misunderstand-” 

“Your Grace,” Otto speaks up, causing the both of you to turn your gazes to him. You felt queasy when you saw the intrigued look in his eyes. “I’m afraid your conversation will have to wait. This matter is truly urgent.” Viserys sighed, looking at you pleadingly, “Please, Y/N. I promise, I will tell you everything later. Just…help me keep this secret, just once, alright?” You couldn’t do anything but press your lips into a thin line. Seeing there was no use begging you anymore, Viserys only lowered his head shamefully, patting your shoulder before leaving the room. Otto gave you and Alicent one last look, one that you returned with a glare, before he inclined his head and turned to follow the King. 

As the door closed, you and Alicent stood there, an uncomfortable silence blanketing the room. You were the first to break it, “How long has this been going on?” 

Alicent cast her eyes downward, “Nigh six months, my lady.” Her voice was quiet, timid. You crossed over the room to her, arms crossed in disapproval. “Your father ordered you to do so, didn’t he?” “...yes,” Alicent whispered tearfully. Your heart twists. As angry as you were, it was not directed to Alicent, but to Viserys, and the Hand. For once, you finally understood Daemon’s intense dislike of the Hand, and how appropriate it had been when he called him a leech. ‘Yet again, Daemon is proven correct,’ the bittersweet thought caused your lips to quirk upward. ‘Who knew he was such a patron of wisdom.’ You were silent as you let your thoughts deliberate the information you just learnt, before you spoke up once more. 

“Speak truthfully with me,,” your voice was firm, demanding, “Does the King intend to take you as a bride, instead of Lady Laena?” Alicent was silent for a moment, before she spoke in a trembling whisper, “It would appear so.”  

You massaged your temples. Gods be good. “And is that what you desire?” Alicent hesitates, looking torn. “It would be a great honour,” she murmurs, although her voice was lacking in conviction. “It would mean I would be Queen. There is no greater way to bring honour to House Hightower.” You waved your hand in the air dismissively, “Aside from honour, I’m asking you if this is what you want. And do not tell me that it is, just because your father or your House wills it. What I want to hear is if you, Alicent Hightower, want this marriage.” You lowered your voice, demand turning into solemnity, “The path of marriage…it is no easy one, Alicent. And you are still young, there is much of life you have not yet experienced.” You took a deep breath, voice shaking slightly, “You saw…what happened to the late Queen. The pressure to produce an heir…and eventually, she gave her life for it. Is this the sort of life you want to resign yourself to?” 

Alicent bit her lip, a tear trickling down her face. “I do not have a choice, do I?” You were aghast, “Of course, you have a choice. Everybody can dictate their life the way they choose. You need not resign yourself to the will of others. That is no way to live, Alicent.” 

Alicent gives you a bitter smile, still not meeting your eyes. “It is fortunate that you have the liberty to think so, my lady. But it is a concept I am unfamiliar with, and one that I can never grow to fully experience.” You wanted to protest, but you kept silence as you watched Alicent blink back tears, “I’ve learnt from a young age…the inevitability of duty. Run as you may, in the end, this freedom you speak of…it can never be ours. Everyone has a role to play in life, and the women are expected to play it exceptionally well. Noblewomen especially. We were born in this life to serve our fathers, our lords, our husbands, our houses. The thought of freedom is wonderful yes, but you soon realise, it slips through your fingers slowly, until all that is left is duty. Since duty is inescapable, no matter how reluctant I may be, I have learnt that accepting it earlier will cause me less hurt, instead of thinking foolish thoughts.” She finally meets your gaze, eyes filled with solemn determination. “Thank you for your concern, my lady. But this is a choice I have made. You would not change my mind, and I suspect I will not change yours. However, I hope you will respect my opinions on the matter.” 

You face was impassive, but your eyes were filled with sorrow. How wise she was for a girl so young. And how crushing the weight of knowledge can be. You continued to say nothing, instead gently prying apart Alicent’s clenched fingers, examining the wounds on her fingernails. “Come, let me help you put some ointment on them. I got some from the Maesters after the tourney.” 

Your mind was in a haze as you departed the King’s solar. Alicent’s words struck a deep chord in you. You always assumed that everyone would want the choice to pursue the life their heart desires, regardless of their sex, but you never stopped to consider the people who didn’t have the chance to. You had flouted the idea of duty for years, despising it, but seeing Alicent, who willingly embraced the burden of it…it made you feel ashamed. 

Consumed with your thoughts, you didn’t notice a hurried figure approaching until you both collided, nearly knocking each other to the ground. The other person grabbed you to steady you before you fell. Your eyes widened with shock at the guilty figure in front of you. “Rhaenyra?” The princess shushed you, pulling you to a dark corner. “What are you doing?” you whisper furiously, upon noticing her dressed in her dragonriding gear. “Are you sneaking out? At this hour?” 

Rhaenyra was bouncing on her heels impatiently, looking like she might take flight herself at any moment. “To Dragonstone. Daemon has stolen my brother’s egg, he intends to gift it to his mistress’ bastard child.” You were startled, and outraged at that. He would go to such great lengths just to get his brother’s attention? Sometimes you wonder if being a cunt was just in Daemon’s nature. “Please help me keep it a secret, Y/N,” Rhaenyra implored. If it weren’t for you gripping onto Rhaenyra’s forearms, you suspect she would have fled a long time ago. “Father shot me down when I suggested I fly there to retrieve the egg, and sent the Hand instead, but I have to go get it. It was my brother’s egg, I picked it out personally, Daemon has no right-” she struggled to find the words amidst her anger. 

“I understand, go. I won’t tell a soul.” Rhaenyra looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you…serious?” You nodded, letting go of her. “I think you will be able to get through to Daemon. I believe in you. Now go, before your uncle decides to take the Hand’s head off with a sword and cause a war between House Hightower and House Targaryen.” Rhaenyra laughs, before unexpectedly pulling you into a hug. “Y/N…thank you. It feels nice to know that you have faith in me” You were startled, but you hugged her back, and patted her hair soothingly, a gesture you’ve seen Aemma do with Rhaenyra. “You’re more capable than you think, Rhaenyra. Now go,” you pulled away, eyes fixed with hers. “And make Aemma proud, Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra nodded, a fierce look coming into her eyes. She shot you a brief smile before looking around furtively to make sure that no prying eyes were here to witness her escape, before sprinting away to the stables. You watched her go, biting your lip. Your conversation with Viserys and Alicent crossed your mind, and you felt a little regretful that you didn’t manage to tell Rhaenyra. But Viserys had begged you, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say anything. You turned away, walking to the godswood, intent for some air. You had a feeling in your gut that sooner or late, all these secrets would culminate in an unpleasant ending.

Your words were proven true enough a few days later. You were reading a book in your chambers, when Rhaenyra burst into your room, nearly giving you a heart attack. You were ready to reprimand her, but one look at her furious, betrayed face, and you already knew. “He-” Rhaenyra bit out, “My father just announced he’s taking a new bride. Alicent.” 

You leaned back in your seat, your heart sinking. So Viserys had gone with it after all. You felt disappointment dawning on you, as well as guilt as you watched Rhaenyra pace around the room frustratedly. “I just don’t understand, how? He was going to marry Lady Laena, he swore it to me yesterday, when did he even get acquainted with Alicent?” Rhaenyra swung back to face you again, but she froze when she caught sight of your guilty expression. “Seven hells,” she breathed out, “You knew?” You closed your book, standing up, “I did, but I didn’t expect-” Rhaenyra let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Save it, Y/N. I do not wish to hear it now. I thought I could trust you.” “Rhaenyra-” you beseeched, but she had already turned her heel and left, slamming the chamber door shut behind her. You sunk back down in your seat, your heart pounding. By the gods, what a mess. 

Your chamber was once more the recipient of another visitor, though it might not have been the one you hoped for. “Rhaenyra?” you called out hopefully, only to be surprised when the timid form of Alicent appeared instead. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and you noticed fresh wounds on her nails once again. “Alicent…” you walked towards her, taking her hands in yours. Alicent began to cry then, and you drew her into your embrace, closing your eyes as you felt Alicent’s tears staining the front of your gown. 

A while later, you had seated Alicent on your bed, observing her as she cradled in her hand the cup of tea a servant had fetched for her. “I thought I knew how heavy this burden was,” she spoke, her voice barely a whisper as she looked despondently into her cup. “But I wasn’t expecting it to feel so painful.” You chewed your lip, as you focused on applying the ointment to the fresh wounds on her left hand. “I thought I was prepared, but I did not realise this would mean I would lose Rhaenyra.” 

Your heart was pounding as well, though not for the same reasons as Alicent. Rhaenyra’s backlash towards this announcement didn’t just signal an end to her ties with Alicent, but also with you. You remembered vividly how betrayed she had looked when she came to realise that you had known, and you had not told her. There was no coming back from that. Apart from your guilt however, you also felt a steady sense of despair building up in you. You had spent the past six months relying on the favour of Rhaenyra to prevent your expulsion from court and back home, how was that to go about now? 

“Oftentimes, life changes in ways we cannot anticipate,” you began quietly, trying to think of your next steps. “But it is best not to dwell on it, to move on and adapt.” Alicent looked distraught at that, but she kept silent, save for the tear trailing down her cheek. You finished applying the ointment to Alicent’s left hand, moving onto her right hand. Suddenly, an idea struck you. “Alicent, I know this is a bit sudden,” you said gingerly, “But if I may…I would like to request to serve you as your lady-in-waiting.” Alicent looked surprised, though there was no anger in her expression, much to your relief. You were worried that you might have overstepped, but Alicent only put down her cup of tea and squeezed your hand, “I would be honoured to have you as my lady-in-waiting, Y/N.” 

You had to refrain from sighing with relief, pleased that your gamble had worked out. You were banking on your close ties with Alicent now, and a queen’s power was surely more reliable than a princess’. At least, good enough to keep you at the Red Keep. Once again, you felt guilty for using Alicent this way, but it was not out of malicious intent either: you truly did care for Alicent like a daughter, much like you had with Rhaenyra. Besides…you realised that Alicent’s current predicament was much like that of your worst nightmares. The realisation left a bitter taste on your tongue. Alicent was everything you vowed you would never end up being, and watching all this unfold in front of you while you were powerless to stop it - it felt gut-wrenching. 

“Y/N,” Alicent’s soft voice snapped you out of your reality. You looked at her questioningly, seeing hesitation in her eyes. “If I may ask…why did the King never choose to marry you?” You felt an initial urge to cringe, but then you realised it was a valid question, and a good one at that. “The King clearly cares for you, and values you greatly. And not to mention, you are the sole heir to Highgarden,” Alicent looked unsure, “It would be a prudent decision to marry you, a brilliant match, even. Far eclipsing the advantages of a union with the daughter of the Hand of the King. Why has the King never considered that?” 

You fell silent, deep in thought. The points she made were excellent, and even though you felt discomfited by it, you were curious to know as well. In the end, you could only reply, “I do not know, Alicent.” 

“Your Grace,” you greeted stiffly, curtsying to Viserys, much to his distress. He reached out to you, trying to help you up, but you only stepped away. The hurt on his face almost made you feel guilty for your coldness, but you couldn’t stand to look at him right now. If it hadn’t been for him summoning you to his solar, you would’ve continued giving him the cold shoulder. 

Viserys sighed, giving up as he turned towards his model of the Old Valyria. His next question made you raise your eyebrows incredulously. “How is Rhaenyra coping with the news?” Unease grew in you, “Shouldn’t you be asking about Alicent instead, Your Grace?” Viserys grimaced at your use of formalities. “Alicent seems perfectly content, does she not? It is Rhaenyra whom I should be concerned about now.” 

You frowned, “It is quite the opposite, actually. Rhaenyra is angry, but I’m sure she will calm down sooner or late.” Viserys seems assuaged by that, retreating to take a seat at the armchairs before the fireplace. “I am thankful to hear that.” You took a seat next to him, levelling a hard glare at him. “And what of Alicent?” Viserys looked surprised, “What of her?” “She seems distraught over this match.” Viserys furrowed his brows, “This union brings her more benefit than it does me, what does she have to be distraught about? She will be Queen.” You finally exploded, “And so?” you demanded, rising up from your seat. “It is clear that she is unhappy with this match. She came to me crying today, Viserys. She’s frightened by the prospect of this marriage. And it is clear that she is  being used as a political pawn in her father’s games. How can you say she will not be distraught by this?” You half expected Viserys to get up and order you to leave, but he only sighed and washed a hand over his face. “Y/N,” he began slowly, gesturing for you to sit down. You refused, staring at him with defiant eyes. He sighed, sometimes you reminded him so much of Daemon that it was a wonder you were not a Targaryen yourself. That stubborn persistence and fiery temper…

“Alicent may be unhappy now, but I did not force her into this match.” He sighed again at your disbelieving expression, “Think of it this way, if she had vehemently opposed this match, she wouldn't have willingly visited my chambers every night without fail for the past six months. It was a scheme engineered by Otto, that I can see, but even so, Alicent wanted this. If she had been unwilling, she wouldn’t have taken the initiative to get closer to me, to indulge me in my interests.” 

You were still frowning, but you slowly lowered yourself back into your seat. You didn’t want to believe in Viserys’ words, but he had no reason to lie. “Ambition is a fickle thing, Y/N,” Viserys turned his gaze to the fire. “Some men choose to deny it, to preserve the illusion of their humility. But the truth is, every man is akin to a starving man when he sees a banquet when it comes to power. Do not underestimate the temptation of power, Y/N. Many men claim they do not desire it, but no one can resist it. Alicent is no different. She may feel uncomfortable with this match at first, but there is a small sliver of her that covets this position, and the power she can wield with it.” 

You chose to say nothing, but you tightened your grip on your armrests as Viserys spoke. Viserys sighed, turning his gaze back to you. “I have to be frank with you…my ideal match when I first heard the topic of remarriage being brought up, was you, Y/N.” You finally met his gaze again, mouth agape. “What?” 

Viserys nodded wearily, “It would’ve seemed natural. After all, we grew up together, and you are one of the people I hold dearest to my heart. I would have been happy to take you as my wife.” Your stomach began to churn. “But, I knew…with your temperament, you would never be happy in this marriage with me.” Viserys smiled ruefully at you, “I knew Aemma would have never wanted me to trap you in an unhappy marriage, and I don’t either.” 

“But you’re alright with trapping Alicent in an unhappy marriage instead?” you snapped. Viserys looked resigned, recognising that he would not be able to get through to you. “Alicent’s…distress over this match would fade sooner or late. Furthermore, I genuinely do care for Alicent’s wellbeing, and I will see to it she lacks for nothing as my queen.” “Material possessions do not equate to happiness, Viserys,” you said angrily. Viserys finally slams down his hand on his armrest, shocking you into silence. It was in rare moments like this where you are reminded that Viserys was still of the blood of the dragon, and that he was still your king. You grimaced, realising you might have spoken too carelessly. 

“What would you have me do then, Y/N?” Viserys blustered angrily, “Do you think getting remarried brings me joy? Every time I think about it, the thought sends me into a spiral of despair. That I would have to take a new wife, sire new heirs, with someone whom I might not love. Alicent may not be Aemma, but I care for her a great deal, and I will not have you deny it.” Viserys sinks back into his seat, his rage slowly turning back into that resigned, mournful look you’ve seen him wear so much lately. His voice cracked a little as he spoke, “I’m just…so tired, Y/N. You are my closest confidant, and even you can’t seem to understand how I feel, what I’m going through. After Aemma, I find myself losing the will to go through my days more and more with each passing day. It feels like my life has been drained out of me. I never liked partaking in the intrigues of court either, and without Aemma, it has only grown harder to bear. Alicent lessened the burden of grief on my shoulders. When I was with her, it felt like I could just…be. No kingly duties, no responsibilities, no Small Council on my back, nitpicking my every move, scheming to consolidate power. She made me feel like I was just Viserys, a feeling I only experienced with you, Aemma, and Daemon.” 

“...you really do care for her then?” you asked quietly. Viserys nods, looking earnest. “I do. Trust me, Y/N, I would not do anything to cause her unhappiness. And I believe as time passes, I will grow to feel love for her.” You played with your fingers uncomfortably, not knowing what to make of this conversation. Your insight into Viserys’ thoughts only sowed more conflict into your already torn feelings towards him, and you didn’t know what the right thing was to do anymore. The two of you stared into the roaring fire, as the solar was enveloped in a thick blanket of tense, pensive silence. 

On Driftmark, there was silence as well. But this silence felt more taut, more dangerous, like a provoked beast who was readying to strike. 

At least that’s what Daemon Targaryen thought as he took a swig of Arbor Gold from his goblet, taking in his surroundings. The Velaryons had a strange taste for decor, which he assumed was an acquired taste. 

Lord Corlys sat from across him, a surly expression on his face as he spoke. Daemon couldn’t find it in him to pay attention to the man’s incessant complaints. His mind kept wandering back, much to his frustration, to his conversation with Mysaria a few days ago. Her words, her caution, her fear…so unlike a certain someone he knew.

His mind couldn’t help but chase thoughts of her wellbeing. Had she heeded his advice? Had he gotten through to her, even with her stubborn insistence? Surely she must know that he only wished for the best for her. She was like family to him after all.

Lord Corlys clears his throat, and Daemon slid his focus back to him, a bored look on his face. “You are aware the King has taken Alicent Hightower to wed?” Lord Corlys asks, a shifty look that Daemon couldn’t quite place filling his eyes. Daemon shot him an irate look. It was hard not to know, particularly since this matter was what led him to be sitting in this exact chair, listening to Lord Corlys blather about angrily. 

“I heard that the Hightower girl has announced Lady Y/N as her chief lady-in-waiting.” This snapped Daemon back to attention. He took another sip of his wine to hide his smirk, ‘So she is cleverer than I gave her credit for.’  

“I don’t see how that relates to why you asked me here, Lord Corlys,” Daemon’s voice was annoyed. Lord Corlys’ expression turned sly, “In all honesty, I had expected that the King might have taken Lady Y/N to be his bride instead. He gave off the impression he might.” Daemon’s eyebrows shot to his forehead, and he nearly choked on his wine. “I can assure you, Lady Y/N would never let that happen,” Daemon told Lord Corlys, voice dripping with amusement. “But he is the King. It is quite impossible to refuse an order from the King. And besides,” Lord Corlys’ lips quirked upwards, “I have heard that Lady Y/N is rather fond of your brother herself. She has been dining with him each night since Queen Aemma’s passing.” 

Daemon tried to keep his expression impassive, but his grip on his goblet tightened. The thought of his brother taking Y/N to wed…it sent an odd, visceral feeling through him. Something that was akin to possessiveness and…jealousy? Mayhaps he was drunk. There was simply no way. No way at all. 

Lord Corlys smirked, the Prince’s dark expression told him that he had been successful in inciting some anger in the Prince against the King. Which was exactly all he needed. And soon enough, it was official: Daemon Targaryen had just agreed to wage war on the Stepstones.

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes @salembridger @itszzmoon @kmmg98 @travelingmypassion @zae5 @norestfortheshelbywicked @soleilgrec @anehkael​

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98​ @norestfortheshelbywicked​

those who are bolded are those who couldn’t be tagged! let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 

A/N: so if you made this far, bless you. This was a very long chapter, so hats off to you for finishing it 💗 the next chapter will be much shorter, I promise, although it might take longer because i’m going on a short trip. hopefully i can get it done by next wednesday! 

as always, if you loved this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you for your support 💗 

[stickywhiteash]

Down with the Sickness // Kakashi x Reader

Warning: None! Only fluff

An hour ago you were in a deep peaceful slumber. Nothing in the world could have disturbed you; that is, until your alarm to take your medications screamed at you. Every ten minutes it sounded off, blaring into your eardrums and every time you ‘woke’ back up a cough followed by sniffling came with.

You‘ve been sick for 3 days now and it doesn’t seem to get better. You writhe in agony from the body aches and fever.

A pill or two with some water would ease your pain, but the glass is empty. Dry swallowing the pill is an option; however, you’d face the chance of it not going down properly and tasting the bitter medicine melting in your mouth. Getting up to refill the glass is would be another option if it weren’t for the fact that outside your warm cozy covers awaits a cold cruel world. Thus your current predicament of snoozing the alarm for an hour straight whilst falling half asleep every time.

With all of your whining underneath the blankets, you miss the front door’s handle jiggle a couple of times before opening wide.

Kakashi steps into your home with an arm full of groceries. The first thing he notices is how the place looks barely lived in. Last he recalled, you weren’t on a mission for the past week. Placing the food on the counter, he investigates where you could be. On cue, your alarm goes off again, drawing his attention to the room at the end of the hallway.

An endless amount of tissues scatter all over the place, coupled with a few take out boxes, and plastic bags. The giant lump shivering in the middle of the bed catches his eye. Hand reaching out, he pets you as if you’re a house cat.

His sudden touch jolts you upright, swinging the covers off. Your fist narrowly misses Kakashi.

“Woah,” he heartily chuckles, “Still feisty as ever”

“What’re you doing here..?”

“Making sure you’re still alive. I haven’t heard from you in a while—“

Coughing in between words, you sarcastically reply, “You’re worried about little old me? That’s sweet.”

Kakashi places the back of his hand on your forehead, confirming his suspicions. You wrap yourself tightly with the blankets, now feeling the chilly air you accidentally exposed yourself to.

Pulling you into a warm embrace, he asks, “When’s the last time you ate or showered”

You lean into the hug, taking in his scent. “Can’t recall.. I really don’t feel so good.”

“Mm. Well that won’t do!”

Blanket ripped off your body, he picks you up off the bed. You cling on to him tightly, asking what the hell he’s doing. Try as you might to fight the shinobi, your strength just isn’t there. Profanities fill the home coupled with demands to put you down.

“Here we are, Stinky.”

He places you down, feet first in the bathroom. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he closes the door before you can protest once again.

The patter of feet fade into the distance as you are left dumbfounded.

‘That bastard didn’t even give me clothes.’

Huffing, you turn the shower on and let it steam up the room. Once the water is scalding to the touch, you hop in and sit in the bathtub. All of the pain could not be further from the back of your mind. Eyes close, taking in the soothing feeling of the water dripping down your body. Soap carried away with your worries. Droplets hitting your back act as a little massage.

A knock on your door causes your eyes to snap wide open and look towards the source of the noise.

“Are you okay in there? You’ve been showering for quite a while. You didn’t slip and hit your head did you?”

“No I’m fine! Finishing up right now!”

Kakashi unlocks the door using his fingernail and opens it just enough to sneak in fresh clothes and a towel.

“Take your time, but I do warn your food will get cold if you take too long”

Once again the door closes, but his footsteps are drowned out by the shower.

After getting changed, you head out to the kitchen where you find Kakashi leaning against the wall, reading his favorite literature. He looks up at you then place it on top of the table.

“You’re alive. I was worried the sickness had over taken you in the bath,” he jokes, moving over to you.

“Do you really think so lowly of me?”, you reply, feigning hurt.

“Of course not. You’re the strongest person I know.” Kakashi wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss atop your head. “And now, you’re not the stinkiest person I know.”

“Hey!” You attempt to break out of his embrace but he only squeezes you tighter. “I’ll probably die by your hug before this illness gets me!”

A hearty chuckle fills the air as he lets go. Another smooch is placed on your cheek. “I’d kiss you on the lips, but I really don’t plan on catching whatever you have,” Kakashi says, pulling a chair for you to sit. “So are your sinuses more cleared up? If not, this soup should do the trick.”

“If you made it extremely spicy, I won’t forgive you.”

“Cross my heart, I did not.”

Flu medicine sits next to your food. Kakashi also takes a seat next to you but doesn’t start eating. Instead, he’s got this goofy look on his face as he stares at your face. All of the love and adoration in the world can be seen in his eye (and the other one too if it wasn’t closed). Even on your worst days, he’ll be by your side.

[adorejungkook]

Baby got Back!!

CHAPTER 2

Synopsis; Jeon Jungkook has the fattest fucking crush on you meanwhile Jimin and Taehyung don’t find you too hard to look at either. Now Jungkook has to find a way to confess his feelings, maybe even show you, before the other two find their way into your pants during your “staycation”. 

Warnings; series, eventual smut, pining, the boys are horny they talk a bit raunchy about you, big dick!jk, you canonically have a nice booty <3, still exposition but expect smut within the next two chapters... maybe, this chapter seems shorter so I may also update tommorow

chapter. 1 , 2, 3

Jimin somehow felt like the worst friend at the moment, but also the luckiest man alive. He couldn’t decide if having his hands around your waist was better than the look on Jungkook’s face when he pulled you closer.

 “Hyung,” Jungkook said flatly, lip between his teeth as he lifted your bags into the trunk of Jimin’s van, “Come help me with the bags for a second,”

 “Oh wow, the gym rat can’t lift a few bags? I’m comin’,” Jimin chuckles, squeezing your sides one more time before strolling over to the back of the car.

“Thanks for letting me ride with you guys, I was not trying to drive,” You laughed, peeking your head around to give Jungkook a wave and a smile. You don’t notice the shade of red his ears have turned when you look away.

“You can’t get mad when we’re around her if you don’t even talk to her,” Jimin sighed, nudging his doe-eyed friend who was still staring at the place you had been standing, “You’re like the only guy who can cockblock yourself and everyone around you at the same time!”

“Holy shit, can you be any louder?!”, the younger boy hissed, slamming the trunk closed. 

“Yo, do not fuck up my car cuz you wanna act like you’ve never met a girl before,” Jimin warned, pushing him toward the front of the car. 

“I’m sitting up front this time, Kook,” Taehyung called out, waving him off when he came towards the door.

“Oh. Okay!” 

Oh, not okay. You were in the back of the car so obviously, he couldn’t be back there! Jungkook was sure that if he even looked at you while you were both sitting back there he’d either nut or die…probably both at the same time. 

This was so weird. He’s known you for the longest and he’s been into you for just as long but for some reason, he could barely give you a hello when he saw you lately.  He knew he had to get over it before Park fucking Jimin eats your ass or somethi-

“JK, I got peach gummies anddd barbeque chips!” You say excitedly, shaking the gummy bag before popping a ring in your mouth.

Your warm voice brings him back to earth and makes him realize he was the only person not in the van. Way not to draw attention to himself, right?

“W…wait for me!”

 

About ten minutes into the car ride, Jungkook started to relax a little bit. He was still a nervous wreck, but he managed to push out little jokes albeit very corny jokes but at least now he had a reason to be staring at your lips.

[Tae-Hyung 🤠] : Ur Stuttering btw😶(Sent 9:46 AM)

[Me]: Focus on the road pls? 😐

[Tae-Hyung🤠]: Jimin is driving not me hehe 

[Me]: EW you typed out hehe

Asshole.

Thank you all for the love on the first chapter of baby got back! please anticipate the third chapter :)

taglist:

@yourbobaeyestell @coralmusicblaze @koikooky @jjkrinvgs @distinguisheddestiny @theladyblue @yopjm @jungkooksseuphoria @hollowtree10 @livorna @slutforwwh @hopewxride @namjoonimtheman2 @kooscameras @treethatswithpetra @canarystwin @idkreallys-blog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jalexd @emeraldjade23 @jaehyunsbreadbasket @thatfatbussy01 @bigbootyjoonie @jiimtaee @boys0verflowers @kooklovesu @petalsofink @tornparts @telepathytae @jkjeon9709 @uarmyhopelover @multilingual-kpop @swga-recs

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

My Sweetest Downfall - Chapter Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Work Summary:

Eddie’s back from the Upside Down, but things aren’t exactly how he left them. Hawkins is in pieces, his friends are scattered and the love of his life is… pregnant?

Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3394

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @eddiesgirlforever @harrys-tittie

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

I don't think I mentioned this before but I'm never going to specify whether reader is full/half/adopted siblings with Steve, so she can be of any race/ethnicity. I'll try my best to be inclusive/vague in my descriptions.

Starting this week, I'm going to be updating this fic weekly (every Monday).

Warnings for shitty parents, pregnancy, vomiting (a lot), grief, depression, reader being kinda mean to steve even tho he's a good boy, reader not taking care of her hair (or herself generally), bad relationship with food, nested flashbacks

---

~ FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ~

A sharp tapping on your bedroom door roused you from sleep. You sat up suddenly, dazed and confused. Your bed was cold. You grimaced.

In the time since you’d learnt about Hawkins’ dark underside, you had gotten used to the nightmares.  You could handle them. What you weren’t prepared for were the other kind of dreams.

When you slept, Eddie was alive. He would lounge beside you in your bed, drawing long forgotten laughter from deep inside you. He would hold you, kiss you, tell you that he adored you. Touch you in ways that you never wanted anyone else to touch you.

Awake, you felt hollow.

When Steve called your name through the door, you tried to say, “come in,” as naturally as possible, but your throat was tight.

He opened the door, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Hey. How are you feeling this morning?”

Now that was a question. How were you feeling this morning?

You took a quick inventory: your throat hurt; your eyes were crusty and sore from crying; you hadn’t showered in days so you felt sweaty and gross.

“I’m okay,” you said, and Steve frowned.

“I thought I could make pancakes?” he suggested. Admittedly, pancakes did sound good. “Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll make breakfast, and then we can go for a walk?”

You tried not to groan. Steve had been doing this since your parents left. You knew he was only doing it because he cared, but right now you bristled against even the gentlest suggestion that you should eat, or bathe, or exercise. You knew that Steve wasn’t judging you – you knew that – but hearing the words out loud still hurt.

But he was just trying to help you. You bit back your harsh response and nodded instead.

“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

A smile broke across his face. “Great!” he said, as if the thought of you doing the bare minimum was actually impressive.

You hated all of this. Steve was treating you like you were made of glass. The two of you had always good-naturedly bickered at each other, poking and prodding and making sarcastic jabs, and now the only mode he seemed capable of was gentle, earnest compassion. It sucked.

Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself as you went into your bathroom and turned on the shower. It was a quick wash, dragging soap over your body and continuing to ignore the growing problem of your hair. When you were done, you brushed your teeth quickly and then dressed in clean(ish) sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You put your hair up and out of the way, and then covered it with your hood, trying not to think about it.

Steve was just plating up the pancakes when you made it down into the kitchen. He gave you a weak smile, which you returned even weaker.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Right.” Steve took that as his cue to not ask any more stupid questions.

Staring down at your plate of pancakes, you felt suddenly ravenous. You hadn’t been eating well. As you tucked in, you could feel Steve’s eyes on you.

You cleared your throat. “You’ve got work later, right?”

“Yeah, but not until this afternoon. Plenty of time to hang out.”

He didn’t ask you if you would be okay alone in the house. Not since you’d snapped at him for treating you like a broken doll. Steve didn’t deserve that. He was trying, and you weren’t. So you decided to offer him an olive branch.

“It’ll be nice to get out of the house,” you said, as breezily as you could. Steve’s eyes widened, but a broad smile soon followed. You looked back down at your pancakes.

*

Hawkins being Hawkins, nature walks weren’t advisable, but when Steve suggested driving into town to walk around the mall, you shot him down. You really didn’t want to be anywhere where you might run into people.

So the two of you set off on foot, hiking along the edge of the woods, never straying more than 20 feet from the road. You both knew what dangers lurked in the darkness.

As much as you hated to admit it, Steve had been right about walking making you feel better. The fresh air cut into your lungs, an ache blooming in your chest. It was better than feeling numb.

Steve cleared his throat. “I was thinking that we could do a movie night some time soon. We could invite Robin.”

“Sure,” you said, non-committally.

“Or something with the kids. It’d be nice to all get together in one place again.”

All. You grimaced at the use of the word. There were some people who were never coming back, no matter how much you wished it.

Barb. Benny. Bob Newby. Chrissy Cunningham. Even Billy, for all his faults. Not that you would ever have invited him to your house.

And of course, there was Eddie. You would never get to have a movie night with him again. He’d never crawl through your bedroom window and fall asleep by your side. You would never get to kiss him again.

You stopped in your tracks, throwing your arms out to try and keep your balance.

“What is- Oh my god.” Steve jumped back as you vomited all over the patch of earth in front of you. You swayed on your feet, so he scooted around the splash zone to get to your side and put an arm around you. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head, and then bent forward to hurl again. Steve clutched at your jacket, trying not to let you fall.

You found yourself reminded of something that happened when you were a child. Your parents had been more present then than they were now, although that was a low bar. Your general needs were taken care of by nannies more often than not, but on this occasion, your parents were taking you and Steve on vacation.

It was a long drive down to the lake house, and at six years old, your feet didn’t touch the floor when you were sitting in the back of the car.

“Mommy?” you called out to her, but she was leaning on her neck pillow, sunglasses hiding the fact that she was asleep. “Mommy!”

“Keep it down,” your dad snapped, “I don’t wanna hear your whining.” You shrank back into yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What’s wrong?” Steve whispered to you. He had been staring out of the window until you’d spoken, but now his focus was on you.

“Feel sick.”

He pulled a bottle of water from his door, cracked the lid open and then handed it to you. You took a big gulp, but the water was unpleasantly warm, so you pushed it back towards him.

He must’ve seen the expression on your face, because he said, “Dad? Can we pull over? I think she’s gonna be sick.”

“We’re not gonna make it there before sunset if we keep having to stop for you damn kids. Now shut the hell up.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispered to you. He took your hand in his pressed his fingers against your wrist. “My teacher showed me a place where you can press to make you feel less sick.” As his clumsy, eight-year-old fingers fumbled to find the pressure point, you gripped the seat suddenly.

“Dad-” you tried to say, but before you could say anything else, you threw up all over yourself.

“Dad, she’s been sick.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, readjusting his rear-view mirror to get a look at you, and then let out a deep sigh. “We’ll stop at the next rest-stop.”

Hot tears pricked at your eyes. Embarrassed, you sniffed, trying to keep them in, but to no avail.

“Hey,” Steve murmured. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you all cleaned up and you’ll feel so much better.” You nodded weakly.

The next rest-stop, as it turned out, was very sparse, with only a restroom and a few benches. Your dad got out of the car and opened your door before you’d even had the chance to undo your seatbelt.

“You little shit,” he hissed. “You got it all over the upholstery. Do you know how much this cost?”

Bewildered, you stared back at him. “I don’t know, daddy.”

“Get out of the car.”

“What’s going on?” said your mom sleepily. She had evidently taken her sleeping pills for the drive.

“Get up,” he said to her. “You need to clean this up. Your daughter vomited all over it.”

“Why do I need to clean it up? She’s your daughter too and it’s your car.”

“I’m gonna take her to go get cleaned up,” Steve announced loudly. He helped you out of the car, snagged your backpack from the trunk and then took your hand. Your parents were still sniping at each other behind you as you walked away.

“Mom and dad are fighting because of me,” you said as he ushered you into the bathroom. There was only one stall, so you hoped no one came along and needed to use it.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are they going to get a divorce?”

“No, sweetpea.” That comforted you a little.

With Steve’s help, you removed your soiled cardigan and t-shirt. He dropped them both into the sink to rinse them, and then wet some tissues for you so that you could wipe yourself down.

Ten minutes later, you were dressed in a clean t-shirt and sweater, and your dirty clothes were rinsed and shoved into a plastic bag. Steve got you a cold water from the vending machine, and the two of you sat in the sun on one of the benches while your mom cleaned up your seat in the car.

The memory made your heart hurt. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Now, Steve was ushering you back to the house, one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady. At least this time you hadn’t got any on your clothes. This time, though, throwing up didn’t make you feel any less sick. If anything, you felt worse.

As soon as you were through the front door, you sprinted to the downstairs bathroom and bent over the toilet, hurling up the contents of your stomach. Your knees trembled, and you sank down into a kneeling position. You could hear the creaking of floorboards outside the door, as if Steve wasn’t sure if he should come in or not.

After a moment, his footsteps retreated. Fine. Good. You had wanted to deal with this alone anyway.

But he didn’t leave you to deal with this alone. Thirty seconds later, the bathroom door swung open and he placed a bottle of water on the floor beside you.

“Hey…” He rubbed your back soothingly. Another surge of vomit had you blinking tears out of your eyes.

Without warning, Steve pulled back your hood, probably to get your hair out of the way. You flinched.

He said your name softly, and his pitying tone convinced you that he had noticed the state your hair was in. You screwed your eyes shut and threw up again.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the vomiting subsided. It had left you sweaty and cold, with a horrible taste on your mouth. You opened the bottle of water and drank some down, trying to get rid of the burning acidity in your chest.

As you got shakily to your feet, you found that Steve was still watching you. He had a sympathetic look on his face that made you want to punch him. How dare he feel sorry for you, after everything you’d been through.

You balled up your fists, your face hot with shame.

“Hey…” he said, wincing. “Please let me help you. I want to help you.”

Reluctantly, you let him.

If there was one thing Steve knew, it was hair. At his behest, you took your second shower of the day, this time taking your time to properly shampoo and condition your hair. When you exited the bathroom, you found that Steve had stripped your bed of its sheets, which were starting to get a little musty, and put on a load of laundry.

You put on a clean, dry pair of pyjamas, and found Steve downstairs, cleaning up the bathroom that you’d spent ten minutes puking in, wearing marigold gloves.

“Get comfy on the couch,” he said, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” And sure enough, he returned to you holding a whole box of hair products. “Just trust me on this, okay?”

So you did.

It took many hours, several bottles of conditioner and all sorts of other products that you’d never even heard of, but eventually, Steve managed to tackle your hair into a manageable state. You had been crying on and off – it sometimes felt like Steve was yanking your hair out of your scalp – but now you felt all cried out.

Part of you appreciated the pain. You had hardly cried since Eddie’s death. If the pain managed to break through the numbness to make you shed a few tears, that could only be a good thing.

More than once, you suggested cutting it all off. Your brother adamantly refused.

When he was done, Steve looked exceedingly proud of himself. He held up a mirror like a hairdresser, showing off his handiwork. You just put your arms around him and hugged him tight.

~ PRESENT DAY ~

Eddie couldn’t help but steal glances at you. You were sitting in an armchair, a big, cosy dressing gown hiding your baby bump, clutching a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

Making the hot chocolate had been a struggle, since Steve wouldn’t leave Eddie alone with you. It was like the riddle where you have to get a fox, a chicken and a bag of grain across a river and you can’t leave the fox with the chicken or the chicken with the grain.

Eddie supposed that made him the fox. He balked at the idea that he could ever hurt you. Steve had never trusted him before, but they had found an uneasy truce. Now, that was all out of the window.

Steve had made Eddie come into the kitchen with him while he made the hot chocolate, leaving you alone in the living room. In a brief concession to civility, he had offered Eddie some too, but he’d declined. He thought he might puke if he ate or drank anything right now.  

“Hop’s here,” Steve said suddenly, and sure enough, the crunch of tyres on the gravel of the driveway reached Eddie’s ears.

Eddie took the brief moment while Steve was answering the door to steal another glance at you, and found you looking back at him. He offered you a smile, but you quickly looked away.

It turned out to be not just the chief, but the entire Hopper-Byers clan. Eddie had never met Will, nor Eleven, but he’d heard plenty about them. The two young teens were wearing hoodies and shoes over their pyjamas.

He remembered Jonathan from school. Jonathan eyed him with suspicion, but he supposed he couldn’t blame him for that. Joyce barely glanced at Eddie, beelining over to you to give you a hug, which you received gratefully. Eddie knew that you’d always loved Joyce. She’d been good to you when your own mother would barely even look at you.

“Munson,” said the chief. Or not the chief. Eddie didn’t really know what Hopper’s rank was now.  Still, as a drug-dealer and general troublemaker, he had been all too familiar with the chief.

“Hop,” said Eddie, getting to his feet.

“Last I heard, you were dead.”

“I could say the same about you.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Hopper actually smiled at that. Perhaps Joyce’s influence had mellowed him out. Or so Eddie assumed, as they evidently seemed to be living together now.

“Are you a zombie?” he asked.

“Uhh, no?”

“Vampire?”

“Well, I have a certain thirst for blood, but that’s not new.” Eddie grinned, but Hopper didn’t.

“This isn’t a time for jokes, kid. Are you flayed?”

“Am I what?”

“Sit down. My daughter is going to tell us if you have any connection to Vecna.”

“W-What?”

Hop put one hand on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the couch. Eleven, whose short curly hair was tousled with sleep, perched on the edge of the coffee table. She closed her eyes.

“What’s she doing?” asked Eddie nervously. He’d heard a little about what she could do, and was mildly concerned that she might be about to snap his neck.

“She’s checking to see if there’s any trace of the Upside Down on you. If you’re a zombie, or one of Vecna’s puppets. If you’re dangerous. While she’s doing that, I’m gonna ask you some questions.”

“Maybe we should-” Steve started, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you snapped.

He swallowed nervously, but acquiesced. Eddie could feel all eyes on him. He felt awfully exposed.

“What happened to you in the Upside Down?” asked Hopper.

“I don’t… I don’t really remember?” Eddie tried to think, but a flash of pain lanced through his brain, and he flinched. Eleven flinched too.

“What happened?” Hopper asked her, one hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Keep asking questions,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Well?” Hopper turned to Eddie again.

“We were… we were fighting the demobats. I got overwhelmed. There were too many of them.” He winced, blinking slowly. “They were biting at me. It hurt. A lot.”

“And then?”

“I don’t remember anything else.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Eleven, opening her eyes. “He’s not flayed. Not a zombie. Human. Alive. Something is wrong with him. But he is human.”

“‘Something’ is wrong with him?” asked the chief.

“Well, what’s new?” Eddie forced out a smile.

The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. That was, until you huffed out a laugh. Eddie turned his head towards you, and found you wiping tears from your eyes.

After that, Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. Hopper and Joyce were talking to you and Steve about what to do now. The gist of it seemed to be to keep a close eye on Eddie. Eddie wasn’t listening. He was watching the way tears kept rolling down your cheeks sporadically. Steve was tense beside you, arms folded across his chest.

“We could take Eddie home with us?” Joyce suggested. “That way we could keep an eye on him to ensure he’s safe.”

“No way,” you said. “Absolutely not. He and I have some catching up to do.”

Joyce glanced down at your baby bump, grimaced, but then nodded. “Of course.”

“If anything happens – and I mean anything – you call us, okay?” said Hopper. “But it’s four in the morning, so I’m gonna take my family home. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me,” you said, very abruptly. Then your expression softened. “Thank you for coming over. We really appreciate it.”

“Alright.” Hopper clapped Steve on the back. “You did the right thing, kid.”

You stood up to see them out. It was evidently a struggle to pull yourself to your feet, and Eddie was about to offer you a hand when Steve stepped in and helped you out.

You stepped forward and gave Joyce a hug. Then you gave one each to Eleven and Will. And then the family were retreating out the door, piling into Hop’s car and driving away.

You and Eddie and Steve were left alone. Steve was clearly fighting off a yawn.

“Steve? Can I talk to Eddie alone for a minute?” you asked.

His expression tightened. “What for?”

“Because I want to talk to him,” you snapped. “Why else?”

“Okay…” He looked from Eddie to you and back. “I’ll go and make up the guest room. Yell if you need me.”

Eddie waited until Steve’s footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. He started to speak, unsure of what he really wanted to say, but was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight.

---

Notes:

When I was at university, I went through a period of being so depressed that I neglected to brush my hair for months. The more tangly it got, the worse I felt, and the less I wanted to deal with it. Eventually I went to visit my long distance bf at the time, and he asked me why I wouldn't take my hair down. With his help, I tackled it. Using a shit-ton of conditioner, he helped me brush out some of the tangles, but the stress got too much and we ended up having an argument and me having the worst panic attack I've ever had. He stayed with me until I was calm, and then he went home. I finished my hair myself, using two bottles of conditioner. The next day, it was the softest it had ever been. I never let it get that bad again.

Recently I was in hospital with a broken ankle. My family came to see me after surgery. I was so hungry, I hadn't been allowed to eat all day and I was constantly on the verge of tears. My hair was a mess. It was super tangly, so my mum brushed it for me and then plaited it so it would stay neat and not tangle. I cried the whole time because I've been pretty starved for affection.

Honestly I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all this, but it feels kinda important that you know where I'm coming from here.

Ciao.

Next Chapter

[fandom-chic]

Happy Little Family: Chapter 8

Summary: When Vought asks the unthinkable, you are forced to play house with certified psychopath Soldier Boy. Your life (and dignity) may be at stake, but something about him draws you in.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Y/N

A/N: Second to last chapter! Thanks for sticking it out with me. Hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

You flip through the first few pages of a book you had begun as you sip your morning tea. Since you did not enjoy reading in high school, you decided now was the perfect time to catch up on what you “read” in your youth. 1984 seemed like an adequate place to start. You flip past the second chapter as you feel light movement in your stomach. You place a hand on top of your bump, giving a sweet rub to calm the little bean down.

By your estimations you were about five months along. You were now definitely showing and there was no hiding it. None of your clothes fit anymore and you felt all kinds of lopsided. Although pregnancy did not seem to fit you like you thought it would, today was your first doctor’s appointment. Yes, it was a little far along to have a first doctor’s appointment, but when you are on the run from a major corporation, those kinds of concerns stay on the back burner. You and Ben were able to scout out a small medical practice in town that seemed like a good fit for the two of you. You smile to yourself, knowing that today was the day you find out what you’re having.

You know that if you have a girl, Ben will be beside himself. There was no way he would survive long with a pretty daughter. If death was something he could feel, he would most definitely have a heart attack when she’s allowed to go on dates. Nevertheless, she will be his girl and he would love her more than anything else. If you have a boy, you know Ben will be full of excitement. Your yard would definitely be used to play baseball and you know on Halloween your son will be dressed as Soldier Boy for as long as possible.

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought this far ahead. You were not sure you would still be alive at this point in your pregnancy. With Vought’s capabilities, you weren’t holding your breath; yet, here you were, getting excited about your child and your future with Ben.

As that thought crosses your mind, you hear the door to the porch open and close. Footsteps come up behind you and a pair of lips find their way to your neck, leaving a light kiss. Your hand instinctively reaches up and you brush your fingers through his beard.

“Good morning, doll.” He whispers in your ear before taking a seat next to you.

“Good morning, you sleep at all?” He sighed, already letting out a yawn.

“Barely slept, too busy waiting for Vought to grab you in the middle of the night.” You place a hand on his thigh and squeeze. This was a conversation you have had every morning since he has lived with you.

“Take a nap before my doctor’s appointment. I want you wide awake for this.” He gives a sleepy smile before taking your face between his hands and pulling you into a kiss. You savor it, letting yourself take him in. When he pulls away, you rest your head on his shoulder, watching the wilderness before you. It was quiet and you savored it. 

“I’m going to say something.” You hear Ben mumble under his breath. You look up at him.

“What is it?” He looks uncomfortable, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I… I think I’m in love with you.” He said it under his breath, but you knew he meant it. He finally looked over at you, looking for a response. You smile at him, placing a hand on his cheek.

“I’m in love with you too, Ben,” It was your turn to kiss him, this time you could sense he did not want to let you go. Letting you go could mean never seeing you again and that was the last thing he ever wanted. It wasn’t until you heard a stick crack that the kiss broke and Ben jumped up from his seat. Thankfully, it was your neighbor Diane chasing one of her chickens through your yard. You smiled at her as she finally got a hand on the runaway. She looks over at you both and waves.

“Sorry about that you two, you know how this one gets.” She smiles and Ben sits back down. She makes her way off and you giggle to yourself as Ben lets out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, Diane’s harmless.” You say, stroking his back. He doesn’t relax but instead stays tense.

“I know, it’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like how I’ve loved you.” He mumbles it out, waiting for you to reject him. He was a man used to rejection from his loved ones, but not you. “Not Countess, not my father, I don’t even know if I’ll love my child like how I love you. You got your grip on me, sweetheart, and I don’t want you to let go.” There was worry but excitement in his hushed tone. You take his hands in yours and look into his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ben.” You give his hands a squeeze. A rare smile comes to his lips as he brings your hands to his lips, kissing them. He leans in and kisses your lips lightly before standing up.

“Time for the doctor’s appointment, you ready?” You nod.

“Barely.”

It takes an hour to drive into town. By the time you both arrive, you have to take a massive piss and he needs to stretch his legs. You only wait for about 10 minutes before your names are called. You lay on the exam table. Your body immediately stiffens. The last time you were on one of these was the worst day of your life. Ben can sense your discomfort, taking your hand in his. Today should be a good day, a great day even. One of the happiest of your life since you get a first glance at your child. The pain of that day cannot help but linger in the back of your head like a dark cloud. After what feels like too damn long, the doctor enters the room.

“Hello Mom and Dad, are you two ready to see the baby?” You feel Ben’s hand tighten on yours. He cannot answer.

“Yes we are.” You say for him. You peak over at him to see his leg bouncing and his eyes darting around the room. He was nervous. Maybe more than you were. The doctor smiles at you and takes out the ultrasound equipment. She rubs a cold blue goo on your belly before bringing the machine to your stomach. It was also cold, but manageable. Your eyes go to the monitor as she looks around for your baby. Finally, a beautiful blob pops up on the screen. It truly looked like an alien to you, but it was your alien. 

You look over at Ben and smile but he cannot seem to take his eyes off the screen. He was entranced by your child, like it was a painting that spoke novels to him. This sight was one you would remember for years to come.

“The baby is looking healthy, growing properly for its age. Want to know the sex?” The doctor said, smiling at you both. You try to catch Ben’s eyes, but that is impossible right now.

“Of course.” You answer. 

“It’s a boy.” Your heart flutters. A boy. A beautiful little boy. And he was half you and half Ben. A perfect boy. You turn to Ben to see what he has to say. As your eyes meet him, you notice a tear in his eye.

“I’m having a son.” He says in disbelief. You nod at him and smile. He wipes away a tear as the doctor lets herself out. Once the door closes, he picks you off the table, brings you into his arms and spins you around. He puts you down and holds you as your arms wrap around him. “Thank you.” He whispers in your ear. You just smile, happy.

When you two arrive home, you make your way to bed, tired from the driving of the day. Ben follows you and lays beside you as you cuddle up in the blankets. 

“We’re having a boy.” He says again, a hint of excitement in his voice. You smile and nod.

“Yes we are.” You humor him, wanting so badly to close your eyes.

“What should we name him? John?” You immediately shake your head.

“No, that's too boring.”

“Max?” 

“That’s an old man’s name.” You mumble.

“Well, I am an old man.” You snicker.

“Sure you are.” You put your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. He was more comfortable than the blankets and sheets. He strokes your back lightly before saying:

“I just want him to be better than me.” He pauses before continuing, “I don’t want him to be like me or my fucking Dad. I want him to be happy.”

“He will be happy Ben.” You didn’t know if this was true, but as long as you both were in this together, it should be ok. You start to drift off in Ben’s arms, letting yourself relax.

Hours later you wake up to the sound of the phone ringing. You feel Ben kiss your forehead before getting up to grab the phone.

“Hello?” You hear from the other room. Then silence. The silence was too long. You sit up and try to get a view of Ben from the Bed but he was just out of your sight lines. Finally you hear a gruff, “Fine.” Before you hear the phone get ripped out of the wall and flung at the wall. You jump up and see Ben fuming. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, running over to him and grabbing his arms.

“Vought… they found me.” He was breathing fire, wanting so badly to destroy more objects around the house.

“What? How?” He points in the direction of your neighbor’s home. Diane. 

“I’m gonna kill that fucking bitch.” He begins to move and you chase him, grabbing onto his forearm before he can do anything rash.

“Wait, how do you know?” You cry out. He stops his war path toward Diane’s home.

“She recognized me, called the tabloids who called Vought first before putting out any story.” You were in disbelief but you weren’t surprised. In disbelief that your privacy did not matter but not surprised that America’s beloved Solider Boy did not have any privacy. 

“What the fuck do they want?” You ask, terrified for the answer. He pauses, turning toward you.

“Me.” He took a deep breath, “Payback has a mission in Nicaragua and apparently they need me. I can’t say no or…”

“Or what?” You plead.

“They kill you and the baby.” Your heart stops. 

“But, why would they do such a thing? They’re literally the assholes that got me pregnant.” 

“They would rather punish me above everything else.” Then there was silence. You felt tears gather in your eyes, wanting to spill down your cheeks. 

“So, now what?” You whisper. 

“I go and pray to God I come back.” You both knew there was a high probability he wouldn’t. He was going to a different country with many Supes and Vought was in control of the situation. There was a 50-50 chance he came back home. You both were helpless, powerless. 

You look up into his green eyes and pull his lips down to yours. He kisses back with a ferocity that drives you mad with desire. That night, you spend it in his arms. And when he finally falls asleep, you watch over him like he does for you. 

You weren’t sure what time you fell asleep but you do know that you woke up to an empty bed. You expected this but it still made you sob. You were alone. He is gone and who knows when he will return. You take his T-shirt and throw it on. His scent was all over you now, making you feel even weaker. You walk into the kitchen to start your morning tea but you get distracted by a bright scrap of paper. It’s on the kitchen table, looking as though it was written in the five seconds he had before he had to leave.

Wait for me. It was scrawled across the page. It was messy and broken but it gave you hope. You held the scrap to your chest and wiped away a tear.

You would wait for him. And wait for him you did.

Taglist: @globetrotter28@bowlegsandbiceps@bxdbxtxh15 @curlycarley @deliriouslybi @spn730015@valkyrie418 @lacilou @siospins2 @little-x-wolf @ackles79 @lokigonnakmsforbucky @sithlordpadawan @planet-ashtroid @capswife @azgucci @lovepeaceorelse @whitequeenasitbgan @ria132love @zamfir707 @liuope@muiltishipper@deans-baby-momma@this-is-me19@likearaindropfilledwithgoldust@kyrieshoka @dohmeti @infinityonhighhhhh @moonshineinasippycup@spopovich @impalaspixie@ryethebrokengae@spnwoman@love-jackles @quixscentsposts @jassackles @iamtranscending @junie-keene @mrschapter

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 3- Into It Deeper

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Genre: angst?

Word Count: little over 1.7 k

Warnings: sword fight with Sammy (no one gets hurt)

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You stand, stretching before you make your way towards him. He hesitates at the door, his hand unmoving on the knob.

“Wait- before we go out there, you need to know something. I know the Kiszka’s very well and if they don’t decide to kill you, they’ll make you prove your usefulness. Do you know your way with a sword?”

You nod, offering no other explanation.

“Good. Knowing them, they will make you fight one of us, my guess is Joshua or Samuel. We all have weaknesses, and I’m only telling you now to give you a fighting chance.”

Saying nothing, you wait patiently for him to continue.

“Joshua is partially deaf in his left ear. He’ll tell you it’s because the first man he killed screamed so loud it ruptured his eardrum but, he actually stood too close to a cannon firing when he was a kid. Jacob has a bad knee, took a bullet to the right one when he was 16. It’s not bad enough that it impairs him when fighting, but if you hit the side of it, he immediately crumples. Now Samuel has the worst weakness, if they give you an option of who to fight, choose him. He gets too cocky when he notices any sign of weakness from his opponent, when he knows he’s bound to win. He’ll draw it out and tease them, makes a real show of it. If you fight him and you fake near defeat well enough, you’re bound to catch him off guard.”

He finishes, waiting for any reaction from you. He gets none as you stare blankly at him.

“And you? What’s your weakness?”

He throws you a sheepish sideways smile. “I get too focused, especially if I have a bow in my hands. I can think of nothing other than that, which is great if I’m fighting one opponent, but not so much if there’s multiple. What about you?”

You think for a moment, deciding you could trust him with this as he just did with you.

“I underestimate myself. Especially if I know my opponent has a better chance of winning. Once that gets into my head, I’m bound to self-sabotage.”

“Well, when they do make you fight, stay out of your head. I’ve known them my whole life, if you remember what I said, you have just as much a chance of winning as they do.”

He goes to open the door before you stop him, placing your hand on his forearm.

“Thank you, Danny.”

“Of course. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by pirates, knowing some of them wanted you dead. Know that you have a friend here, Polaris.”

With that he opens the door, beginning to walk down the corridor as you trail behind him. As soon as you reach the deck, your eyes go wide at the beauty surrounding you. The ships have docked in a massive cavern, a waterfall at its entrance hiding it from prying eyes. Within this cavern, a “town” sits, buildings set against the rock on high planks keeping them above the water. Lanterns light the space, each building having many hung against their sides. The sound of joyous yelling, laughter, and music reaches your ears as you gaze in awe from the distance of the ship.

“Welcome to The Garden.” Danny says with a smile. “Kellen Kiszka built this place, for his family and our allies. It’s a safe haven for us. Whenever we need to lie low or restock, we come here.”

“It’s- beautiful.” You breath out, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s home.”

“Good to see you still alive, Polaris. Thanks for not killing them, Daniel.”

You turn, seeing Jacob making his way from the helm towards you.

“No problem, Captain.”

Jacob stops next to you, looking you over from head to toe to ensure no harm had come upon you. When he’s satisfied not even finding the smallest scratch, he motions towards the dock.

“Well, shall we?”

You and Danny follow him as he makes his way off the ship, joining the small groups of his and Joshuas crew as they make their way towards the lively city. You hear a sharp whistle from behind you, turning to see Joshua holding a small lantern with Samuel, making their way towards you, Danny, and Jacob through the crowd.

“We need to talk. All of you.” Joshua says shortly, his jaw clenched and body language tense.

He takes the lead of the group, expecting the rest of you to follow him. Just before you reach the town, he splits off to the side, down a lesser worn path towards a small building, its lanterns unlit as it sits alone in the dark. Joshua is the first to enter, immediately busying himself with lighting each lantern in the room with the one in his hand. As the candles cast light across the room, you take it in, seeing nothing but a large open space, the only “decorations” being swords and daggers hung on the walls.

“Our father used to train us here, when we were too young to join him on his travels. We haven’t used it in years.” He turns towards you, glaring as he sizes you up. “But tonight, we will use it to see if you are fit to join us.”

Remembering the conversation you and Danny had had back on the ship, you feign surprise and confusion.

“What-“

“First, you choose your weapons. Then you’ll choose your opponent.” He explains, motioning you towards the racks of blades on the walls. “So, choose.”

You walk towards one, first grabbing a small dagger and strapping it around your hips, the blade laying against your right side. Next, you take a sword off the wall, testing its weight in your hands, your back to the group as they watch you.

This one. Perfectly balanced, like it was made for me.

You turn back towards the group, taking its hilt in your hand and holding it lazily at your side as you flash your most innocent eyes at them.

“Is this a good one?”

Samuel and Joshua erupt into laughter, thinking you surely had no chance in a match against one of them. Jacob’s mouth draws into a thin line, his jaw clenching at your “lack” of knowledge. Daniel is the only one who has not lost faith as he tries to keep a smile off his lips at your act.

“Yes, it’s a fucking good one.” Joshua says pointedly when he stops laughing. “Now, choose your opponent.”

You eye the group carefully, putting on your best show at making it seem as if it was hard to choose between them.

“Samuel.”

Your response shocks the group, as all but Danny expected you to choose Jacob or Daniel, knowing they would show the most mercy. Samuels eyes glint with a raging fire as he grins maniacally.

“Finally. I’ve been wanting to cut you down since the moment you stepped onto our ship.”

“My ship, Samuel.” Jacob cuts in.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. You can’t protect them here.” He draws his sword as he takes a step towards you. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll make your death quick.”

You remember how you had fought when your father first began teaching you, mirroring your old clumsy motions as he walks towards you. You grasp the hilt with both hands, your arms stiff as you hold it in front of your body, pointing at Samuel as he hungrily eyes you. Both of your feet are planted under your hips, fully facing him as his body rotates, his sword hand closest to you.

He makes the first move, slashing at your blade with his own as he steps forward. Your grasp loosens, and the hilt drops from your left hands grip, still managing to stay within the right as he laughs.

“C’mon, at least try. It’s no fun to kill such an inexperienced opponent.”

You back away from him, intentionally backing yourself into a wall. He sees his chance and takes it, jabbing the tip towards your stomach, jumping forward as he does it. You manage to step to the side, but his free hand catches you, drawing your back against his front as he holds the blade to your throat.

“Told you I’d make it quick.” Is all he says before you elbow his gut, slipping out of his grasp and away from him as he recovers.

“So, we’re playing dirty, huh? I was going to show you mercy.”

He arcs his blade towards you once more, and you bring your own up to block it, instantly stepping out of his reach once more. He growls, baring his teeth as he makes another advance. Once again, you block it, attempting to step away from him. His left hand shoots out to grip your arm, throwing you to the floor, your sword clattering against the wood feet away from your hand.

He walks towards you slowly, his blade pointing straight at you as you crawl backwards on the floor. The point reaches your throat, nudging your chin up to force you to meet his gaze, your face twisted into an expression of terror.

“Beg. Beg for mercy.” His face is alight with elation, already imagining your blood pooling on the floor beneath him.

You let your act drop, your face deadpanning as you stare up at him. “No.”

Before he can process the response you kick his hand, sending his sword flying across the room. You stand rapidly, tackling him around the middle and sending you both to the floor. You land on top of him, straddling him as you unsheathe your dagger, holding the edge against his throat firmly enough for him to feel the sting of it.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his mind racing as it catches up to the events that just unfolded.

“Beg.” You spit, rage dripping from your words. “Beg for mercy.”

His hands come up in surrender, his breath catching as you press down into his throat with your dagger.

“Mercy- Mercy.” His voice is broken, fear clawing at his insides as he breathes heavily.

You remove the dagger, placing it back in its sheath as you stand. You pick your sword up, intentionally flashing it around in a show of your true skill with a blade before grabbing Samuels as well. You flip it in your hand, catching the tip before offering the hilt to the man still on the floor. You turn towards the three men still standing, Joshua and Jacobs jaws dropped in awe as Danny smiles at you.

“So, am I good enough to join you?”

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A/N: the title, of course, is taken from the lyrics to The Indigo Streak

[shallowbreaths]

This is Mary Vincent, she is the biggest badass alive! At 15 she was attacked, brutal raped, hit in the head with a hammer, she had her arms hacked off with a hatchet, and was then thrown off a cliff by the side of the freeway to die. Her survival story is the shit! She says she heard a voice telling her to keep moving or else others would die, so without arms she managed to pack mud into the wounds so she wouldn’t bleed to death, and then she proceeded to scale the cliff with no arms!! She was completely naked, she had severe head trauma, no arms, and they say she had lost 50% of the blood in her body. After scaling the cliff (which she says took her most of a day), she then walked 3 miles before seeing a car with two men that slowed down, but after getting a good look at her they sped off. To which this badass woman said, “I looked terrifying, I don’t hold it against them at all.” Needless to say, she survived. Before allowing herself to even pass out though, she demanded a sketch artist and provided such detail that the monster’s friend saw it on the news and immediately knew it was him and turned him in. Then she testified against the man, and he somehow managed to whisper to her, “if it takes me the rest of my life I’m going to finish what I started.” Oh yeah, btw, it was HIM that released that detail!

Her family could only talk about how it effected them, it was as if they didn’t realize that it was effecting her too. So she was homeless for a while and she obviously had trouble making and maintaining any meaningful relationships. Her attacker got charged with a long list of crimes and got the maximum sentence at the time…. 14 years! He was released for good behavior after 8!!!!

He then tried to sue her after his release, (as one does after brutally raping someone and then cutting their arms off), but the court threw it out. He then moved to Florida where he was an “upstanding member of the community, and great neighbor.” His neighbors said things like, “of course we didn’t like what he’d done, but life goes on.” Yuck! I know this is shocking, but the asshole killed again and a witness saw it. The police arrived at his house and he was covered in blood still. He tried telling some BS story. The woman he killed (a mother of 3) wasn’t highly thought of because she was a sex worker, that’s one reason why they are so often killed, it’s easier to get away with. SOOOO, Florida asked Mary if she’d face the monster again in order to testify to the man’s nature. This badass said, “Hell yes” and flew down. I really hope she whispered to him, “I’m here to finish what I started.” He was convicted again and put on death row. Unfortunately, God got him with cancer before Florida got to finish his story.

This isn’t about him though, he was a disgusting creep that doesn’t deserve a name. This is about Mary fucking Vincent, the biggest badass of all time. Because of this story, there are now laws instituting mandatory life sentences for certain violent crimes. This is about a woman who uses her experience to help teenagers who are sexually assaulted, even though she STILL suffers from such terrible nightmares that she has woken up trying to escape with such violence that she has literally broken bones doing it several times. This is about the woman who went on to have two sons who she says gave a clear and definite reason to keep going. This is about a girl who at 15 says she couldn’t draw a straight line but grew up to be an artist with no arms, who fashions her own custom prosthetics in order to do the things she wants to do.

I’ve never met this woman, but she is one of my heroes! She is magnificent. Fuck that loser who wound up rotting in a cell alone, it could have been a car crash or a tree falling that caused that damage, he is a gross and barely necessary tool that lead to forging something truly amazing. What she has done, overcome, and made from the pieces is so fucking incredible that she should inspire us all. She was NOT disposable, but how easily she could have been. All she had to do was close her eyes at the bottom of that cliff and go to sleep. I’ll bet she could have quit on herself a million times over the years since 1978, but Mary Vincent doesn’t quit. She took the unimaginable and turned it into art. She IS art!

In Mary’s own words, “This is the third phase of my life since that awful day. I went from victim, to survivor, to artist.” Hell yeah you did Mary!

[mothxart]

Shake you I need to know more about the masked lad

:]

:DD

-Willow and Peapaw never met each other when they were still alive. On 85-Rend, they finally got to know each other as masked :3

-I already talked about how Peapaw became a masked! Here’s the infos!

-As for Willow, heheheh I’m slowly drawing something for it. It may or may not involve someone else’s oc, I won’t say too much as I want to keep this a surprise

———————

-It’s Peapaw who found Willow, all curled up and whimpering near the fire pit. He can’t barely walk with his torn up ankle and he’s too afraid of who might be lurking in the shadows.

-Peapaw would help him out the best she can. She’d try to find something that would look like an ankle brace to stabilize Willow’s poor ankle.

-They always travel together no matter what.

-I’ve already talk about Willow’s walkie-talkie and why he kept it, so here’s where you can read that info.

-To make it short, Willow keeps his walkie since it briefly reminds him of his lost friends. It makes him feel calm and secured. He doesn’t fully know why he feels that way as his memory shortens everyday.

- Willow’s memories are still pretty fresh in his mind. However, he tempts to forget easily as the mask is slowly possessing him. He’d try to remember his friends, but sometimes he would just forget their face, their names…little details like that.

-Willow has a taciturn behavior and he rather be alone sometimes.

-Peapaw, on the contrary, prefers to be near other masked or masquerade (group of masked).

-Willow’s ankle would heal as time goes by…but any sudden or rough movements would tear the muscle tissues apart from his wounds, causing its ankle to bleed out again…