#SWAN WAKE THE FUCK UP

[honeyedlashton]

“YOU’RE A REAL LIFE ANGEL”

“YOU’RE A REAL LIFE ANGEL”

“YOU’RE A REAL LIFE ANGEL”

“YOU’RE A REAL LIFE ANGEL”

“YOU’RE A REAL LIFE ANGEL”

“YOU’RE A R

[ireallylovethischaracter]

[inkperch]

QUICK BAYONETTA FANDOM, GIVE ME A GENERIC CUTESY SCHOOL SHOW (ANIME OR LIVE ACTION I’M NOT PICKY, SAME FOR URBAN FANTASY OR SLICE OF LIFE), I NEED TO WRITE A CUTIE J FIC, THEY TRIPLED DOWN ON IT-

[isaacathom]

i havent posted about fridays session yet but i need you to understand that a handful of us have been like this for three straight days

[kokofromwattpad]

CUDDLES

Featuring: Dorm leaders

Plot: The way how different twst characters sleep with and without you and their sleeping habits.

Cw: fluff, spooning(Riddle and Vil), snoring (Leona and Azul), mentions of boobs (Kalim), drool (idia)

Note: You can obviously tell who my favorite is. Word count: 913

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

Before you:

He sleeps like a old man. Like, fingers crossed over his stomach, or he sleeps like a corpse. He is very silent when he is sleeping only letting out very soft breaths.

With you:

Riddle is either sleeping fetal position into your arms or being spooned. I feel like after having an extremely long day, all he wants to do is be held.

Without you:

He has zero clue what to do with his hands. So all he does is take one of his pillows and cuddles with that. Sometimes he gets mad just as he is about to fall asleep and just chucks the pillow across the room.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Before you:

He snores like a dad. Like, you know you sometimes when your dad is busy snoring and then he chokes on his own saliva mid snore... yea... thats Leona. Also he sleeps like a hot mess. Half of his body is off the bed and the other is barely hanging on.

With you:

Living blanket. Like, he just lays his entire body weight on top of you like a blanket. At first it felt like attempted murder, but after a while you got used to it and now you can't fall asleep without weight on top of you.

Without you:

He twists his blankets into a long noodle so that it (kinda) feels like he's cuddling you. Also, his tail is swishing the same way an angry cat does the entire time he is sleeping.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

Before you:

Completely normal. Maybe a hand under the pillow(?) Snores. The tweels used to make fun of him for that when they were kids but got used to it eventually.

With you:

Koala mode: activated. His legs are twisted through your legs and arms attached to your torso like superglue. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and sometimes even leaves little kisses there.

Without you:

He refuses to sleep without you. Period. He got so used to sleep with you in his arms that it has become a condition for him to sleep. He will either stay in his office, busy with paperwork, studying for an upcoming test or reading a book you recommended him in his bed.

KALIM AL-ASIM:

Before you:

I headcannon that he sleeps fetal position. But like, on his stomach. His face is smashed into the pillow, which causes bedhead and he becomes scarily still (Jamil sometimes comes in and checks if he's still alive.)

With you:

He does not give a shit if you have tiddies or not, he is shoving his face into your chest like it's no-one's business. You have never slept so damn good until the day you started sleeping with Kalim in his fucking king sized bed made from swan feathers or something close to it.

Without you:

Tosses and turns, ruining the sheets and making it dirty. He usually gets up and starts pacing the room, trying to tire himself out, but failing miserably. Kind of just lays there.

VIL SCHOENHEIT:

Before you:

Looks like a fucking angel. His hair perfectly frames his head and he just looks so damn peaceful. I bet he listens to nature sounds whenever he can't sleep since him losing sleep is a big no-no.

With you:

He likes to spoon. He only big spoons, if not, then he's pushing you (affectionately♡) off the bed. He has gotten accustomed to your light snoring, kind of using it like a non-verbal lullaby.

Without you:

Can sleep, but not as nicely as when you do. Kind of turns a bit, but he does fall asleep normally. Gets a sad gut feeling whenever he wakes up without you next to him.

IDIA SHROUD:

Before you:

Probably never sleep willingly. He probably would just pass out from exhaustion ever once-in-awhile. But when he does sleep, he drools like a fucking dog. Like, entire pillow case damp from his drool. He has gained mild control over this, but is still considered a problem.

With you:

He wants to cuddle like how anime couples do. He specifically likes it when you sleep on his chest, your weight feeling the same as when a cat lays on him. He also gained a condition in order to fall asleep. He must stroke your hair gently while you mutter in your half-asleep state on how much you love and adore him.

Without you:

After he started dating you, he finally decided to get a better sleep schedule so he could spend more time with you, rather than being passed out, looking half dead. So he got a plain body pillow (He didn't get a cover as he thought it would be a betrayal of your trust) He cuddles the body pillow the same way he does to you.

MALLEUS DRACONIA:

Before you:

He slept the same way as Riddle, like a corpse. He is completely silent and does not move at all in his sleep.

With you:

He became absolutely addicted to cuddling once you introduced it to him. He would shove you into his chest, kind of like the two of you were hugging, but he has an absolute death grip on you.

Without you:

The skies have a green hue to them as lightning cracks. He is pissed at who or what made you not want or have the time to sleep with him. He would sneak out of his dorm and (break in) sneak into your dorm. He would then climb into bed with you and then instantly fall asleep.

[marlenesluv]

۵pairing: fem!albonsibling!ballerina x platonic f1 grid. also, reader x lando norris.

۵type: social media au

۵authors note: sorry it’s been so long! if you want a tag for new updates for this series, leave a comment letting me know! i’ll tag you in upcoming posts :)

۵warnings: dark side of ballet (this includes: ed/not eating as much, self criticism, teacher, etc) please be aware of this while reading. i love you. also cussing.

۵summary: a month after the dinner, y/n is still working to perfect her performance for her role as the black/white swan. luckily, she had her “friend(?)” lando to help her and keep her company.

۵this is part 4! please read part 1, part 2, and part 3 before this one for it to make sense. (part 1 is mine, i just made it on my main blog)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: lilymhe, landonorris, and 854,282 others

tagged: lilymhe, landonorris, and alex_albon

y/n.albon: reminiscing bc i start training for ballet tomorrow, missing friends and shit👾💜

view comments…

lilymhe: noooo i miss you, cant wait to crash ur apartment every few days 💘

↳ y/n.albon: my door is always open for u

↳ landonorris: and me???😪

↳ y/n.albon: 🔑

↳ landonorris: 🙂↕️

↳ alex_albon: wait. LANDO HAS A KEY!?????

↳ alex_albon: why do i even comment. you NEVER ANSWER ME😭🤧

user2: alex is just so offended atp😭

f1wags: new wag manifestinggggg🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

fp4albons: my favssss

ln4updates: lando has a key to her apartment?🥲we know they’re dating like js announce it😁

user7: alr, my favorite people ever (real)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You loved ballet more than anything, but the hours were ungodly. Waking up on a Monday morning at 5am to be at the studio by 7:30am was unforgivable.

But then, when you’re there till 11pm…it’s exhausting.

After those fifteen hours of practice, you needed about a week of sleep and four advil. Not to mention you were starving.

Your instructor said “lay off those bagels.” To which you nodded and then rolled your eyes once you were out of sight.

Your instructor was the best of the best, and you knew she meant well. She wanted the best for you, for you to be the best.

Sometimes, this was draining. In her eyes, the best was as thin as paper. Ballet was like this, and it was hard. But you had dealt with it for so long, that you started tuning them out years ago.

Fuck them. Its a sport. So, on your walk home, you grabbed a slice of pizza and a diet coke. You deserved it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, and 879,238 others

y/n.albon: 🌚⭐️🌝

view comments…

landonorris: never letting you drive my car again

↳ y/n.albon: okay (i hate driving so this is perfect)

↳ landonorris: (thank god because i hate being the passenger)

user3: name a more iconic couple? *crickets* yeah i thought so

f1editpg4: lando on the first slide is a mooddddd

workinglateee3: uhhhhh the second pic🤧🤧🙃

francisca.cgomes: if you’re not rooting for portugal…

↳ y/n.albon: uhhhhh, they’re my second fav team😁

↳ francisca.cgomes: fairrr🫶

user6: me waiting for them to date 🙂

user9: mom and dad fr

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your texts with alex:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After deciding that leaving Alex on read would be best for now, you walked into your favorite little italian restaurant that you ordered some pasta from after practice got over.

Should you be eating breadsticks, gnocchi, and a tiramisu for dinner? Eh, probably not, but you were tired and in need of some comfort food.

The whole situation with Lando felt like nothing and everything all at once. You knew he was single, and he knew you were as well. He also knew how upset you were about Ben quitting, but he didn’t pity you which was nice.

Family that had found out had been texting and calling you for weeks. Telling you how sorry they are, but you didn’t care that much. Truth be told, it was just inconvenient and inconsiderate.

If Lando knew one thing, it would how he knew how you functioned. At this point in knowing each other, Lando knew your schedule more than anyone else. He paid more attention. He never missed a planned hangout, a rehearsal, or dinner.

Stopping yourself, you walked up to the counter and grabbed your food, saying bye to the workers and started walking back home. What you didn't know was that Lando had happened to drive by and saw you walking.

Lando debated picking you up. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was stalking you. It really was pure coincidence that he saw you. After having a mental fight with himself, he turned his car around and slowed down by the sidewalk.

You, wearing leggings, a sweater, long socks and tennis shoes and your hair down. Eyes focused on your phone as you struggled to find a good song to play through your headphones. Your ballet bag hanging off your shoulder and takeout in the opposite hand.

Smiling, Lando rolled his window down. "Y/n!"

You furrowed your brows, looking up and seeing a familiar face.

"Lando? What are you- are you following me now?!" You asked, stopping to talk as he stopped his car.

"What? Wha- no! I was driving by and you were just there!" He defended himself, nervous about your reaction.

"Uh huh..."

"Do you want a ride home?" Lando asked, tilting his head a little.

"Are you going to kidnap me if I get in?"

"Y/n! No! Stop that, just-...do you want a ride, or no?" He asked, hoping for you to say yes.

"Um...." You looked at the ground, then the buildings, and finally met his eyes, "Okay, yeah, thanks."

You opened the back door and threw your bags in, placing the food on the ground. Then, you got in the front, taking your headphones off and buckling up.

"How was practice?" Lando asked, pulling onto the road again and heading to your apartment building.

"It was okay. Lots of criticizing." You sighed, toying with your sweater string.

"About?" Lando loved your love for ballet. But sometimes, he wished he could beat your instructor. Always bringing you down, for no reason. In his eyes, you were perfect. He was well aware that he liked you...more than friends.

“Form, diet, you know..all that shit.” You laughed, watching as Lando skillfully pulled into the parking garage of your apartment. “Thanks for driving me, Lando.” You smiled, getting out and grabbing your bags as Lando exited the car as well.

“Care if I come up?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket as you nodded and started walking, Lando quick on your trail.

‘Maybe he does like me…’ you thought as you both walked into your apartment and you started to split up the food you had ordered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.albon, carlossainz55, and 982,194 others

landonorris: nights like this❤️

view comments…

y/n.albon: ♾️

*liked by creator*

oscarpiastri: have something to tell us, mate?

↳ landonorris: nah

f1wags: we have been summoned, WHAT

user3: it’s y/n bro i’m telling you

alex_albon: um…ok…..

ln4editpagee: we all know y/n took that first pic

user8: that’s literally y/n, i know those headphones anywhereeee

williams4life: alex has to be freaking out omg

↳ formula1wags: lily has to deal with the freak out too😭💀

y/ns1fp4: MOTHERRRR MOTHER MOTHER

user1: obsessed with this post, it’s my roman empire fr

user3: do we stay calm or freak out guys??????

↳ vrooms19: BOTH

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

tag: @rhythmstars

if you would like a tag for future parts of this series, leave a comment here and i’ll add you :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 3

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 2.3k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 Possible Warnings: mingyu is only 1/2 idiot. it's gonna make sense soon, i promise. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​ @ca-clover , @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs , @lixisoul99 , @cherrylovescheol , @yuyu1024 , @tacolombe , @black-swan-blog27 , @tulipndtale , @xuimhao , @cookiearmy find other parts here! pt.1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The first rays of sunlight filtered through Y/N's living room curtains, casting a warm glow on Mingyu's sleeping form. He stirred, his face scrunching up as consciousness slowly returned. As he blinked awake, confusion clouded his features. This wasn't his room. This wasn't even his apartment. The unfamiliar ceiling above him swam into focus, and with it came a throbbing headache that made him groan.

Suddenly, the events of the previous night came rushing back in fragmented flashes. The company party. The shattered glass. The burning of soju down his throat. Coming to Y/N's apartment... Mingyu's eyes widened in horror as more details surfaced. Had he really gotten down on his knees and begged Y/N to leave Seungcheol? He groaned again, this time out of sheer mortification, covering his face with his hands.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Y/N's voice came from the direction of the kitchen, tinged with a mix of amusement and something else Mingyu couldn't quite place. Was it concern? Pity? He was afraid to find out.

Slowly, cautiously, Mingyu sat up. The room spun for a moment before settling, and he found himself face to face with Y/N, who stood in the kitchen doorway holding two steaming mugs. She looked tired, with slight shadows under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept much, but there was a softness in her gaze that gave Mingyu a flicker of hope.

"Y/N, I..." Mingyu started, his voice raspy from sleep and last night's excesses. But Y/N cut him off with a gentle shake of her head.

"Drink this first," she said, stepping forward to hand him one of the mugs. "It's my special hangover cure. Then we'll talk."

Mingyu accepted the mug gratefully, inhaling the strange but not unpleasant aroma. He took a cautious sip, and despite the odd mix of sweet and bitter flavors, he could almost feel it working its magic on his aching head.

As Mingyu sipped his drink, Y/N busied herself in the kitchen. Soon, the apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of coffee and something cooking. The domestic scene struck Mingyu as both familiar and achingly out of reach. How many mornings had he imagined waking up to this very scenario? But not like this. Never like this.

"I hope you're hungry," Y/N called out, her voice carrying a forced cheerfulness that didn't quite mask the underlying tension. "I'm making pancakes."

Mingyu's stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since before the party. "Sounds great," he managed, his voice a bit steadier now. "Can I... can I help with anything?"

Y/N poked her head out of the kitchen, a small smile playing on her lips. "Just focus on feeling human again. I've got this."

A few minutes later, they sat at Y/N's small dining table, a stack of fluffy pancakes between them. The sight and smell were enticing, but Mingyu found it hard to do more than pick at his food. The gravity of the situation – of what he'd done and said last night – weighed heavily on him.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sounds were the clink of cutlery against plates and the muffled noises of the city waking up outside. Mingyu stole glances at Y/N between bites, trying to gauge her mood. She seemed calm, but there was a tightness around her eyes that betrayed her own unease.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Mingyu set down his fork and took a deep breath. "Y/N, I am so, so sorry about last night. I was completely out of line, showing up here drunk like that. I never meant to put you in that position or make you uncomfortable. It was selfish and stupid, and I—"

Y/N held up a hand, cutting off his rambling apology. She set down her own fork and met his gaze squarely. "Mingyu, before you say anything else, I need to ask you something. Do you... do you remember what happened last night? What you said?"

Mingyu felt heat creep up his neck, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Most of it, yeah," he admitted, dropping his gaze to his half-eaten pancakes. "It's a bit fuzzy around the edges, but... I remember what I said. What I confessed." He forced himself to look back up at Y/N, knowing he owed her that much. "And I meant it. Every word. Even if my delivery left a lot to be desired."

Y/N's expression softened, a mix of emotions flitting across her face too quickly for Mingyu to decipher. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something. "Mingyu, there's something I need to tell you. About Seungcheol and me."

Mingyu tensed, bracing himself for the worst. Was this where she told him she was in love with Seungcheol? That his drunken confession had ruined their friendship?

"We're not really dating," Y/N said in a rush, the words tumbling out as if she was afraid she'd lose her nerve if she didn't say them quickly. "It was... it was all fake. A plan to make you jealous."

Mingyu blinked, sure he must have misheard. "What?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair – a nervous habit Mingyu had always found endearing. "I know it sounds crazy, but just... let me explain, okay?"

And so she did. Y/N laid out the whole story – Seungcheol's idea, born out of frustration with the tension between Mingyu and Y/N. The band's involvement, their well-meaning but misguided attempt to push Mingyu and Y/N together. The carefully orchestrated "dates," the inside jokes, the lingering touches – all designed to provoke a reaction from Mingyu.

As Y/N spoke, Mingyu's expression shifted from confusion to understanding to something like wonder. Pieces of the puzzle that had been nagging at him for weeks suddenly fell into place. The knowing looks between the other band members. Seungcheol's sudden interest in Y/N's work. The way Vernon and Wonwoo always seemed to be pushing them together.

When Y/N finally fell silent, Mingyu let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So, let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You're not in love with Seungcheol?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, I'm not. He's a good friend, but that's all."

A smile started to spread across Mingyu's face, hope blooming in his chest. "And everything I said last night... you heard all that knowing it wasn't about breaking you and Seungcheol up, but about us? About how I really feel?"

Y/N nodded, a blush coloring her cheeks. "Yeah, I did."

The realization hit Mingyu like a wave, washing away the last of his hangover-induced fog. He reached across the table, taking Y/N's hand in his. Her skin was soft and warm, fitting perfectly in his larger palm. "Then you know how I feel," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Y/N, I meant every word. I love you. I have for... god, probably since the moment we met. I was just too scared to admit it, even to myself. But I'm not scared anymore." He squeezed her hand gently. "I want us to be together, for real this time. No games, no pretending. Just us."

Y/N's breath caught at Mingyu's words, and for a moment, he could see everything he felt reflected in her eyes – love, longing, hope. But then something else crept in. Hesitation. She gently extracted her hand from his, and Mingyu felt his heart sink.

"Mingyu, I..." Y/N started, her voice soft but firm. "I can't deny that I have feelings for you too. Strong feelings. But..."

Mingyu's face fell. "But?"

Y/N sighed, pushing her plate aside and leaning forward, her elbows on the table. "But I think we both need some time. To grow, to figure out who we are outside of this... whatever this has been between us." She gestured vaguely between them. "I need to focus on myself for a while."

Mingyu was quiet for a moment, processing Y/N's words. His first instinct was to argue, to plead his case. But as he looked at Y/N – really looked at her – he saw the determination in her eyes, the quiet strength that had first drawn him to her. And he realized that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

Slowly, he nodded. "I understand," he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. "And you're right. We've both made mistakes, acted out of fear or jealousy or... whatever it was that made us think a fake dating scheme was a good idea." That drew a small laugh from Y/N, easing some of the tension. "Maybe some time to grow individually wouldn't be a bad thing."

Relief washed over Y/N's face. "You're not upset?"

Mingyu smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Y/N's heart flutter despite her best efforts. "How could I be upset? You're not rejecting me, you're just asking for time. And after everything, I think we both deserve that."

He reached out again, this time just lightly touching Y/N's hand where it rested on the table. "You know, whatever happens, know that I'm yours. Whether as a friend or something more, I'm here. Always."

Y/N couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, bright and genuine. "Barely," she joked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

It took Mingyu a second to get the reference, but when he did, he joined in her laughter. The sound filled the apartment, chasing away the last of the tension that had hung between them. As their laughter subsided, they found themselves smiling at each other across the table, a new understanding passing between them.

They finished their breakfast in comfortable silence, both lost in thought but no longer weighed down by unspoken feelings or misunderstandings. As Mingyu helped Y/N clear the dishes, he felt lighter than he had in months.

"So," he said as he dried the last plate, handing it to Y/N to put away, "what happens now?"

Y/N closed the cabinet and turned to face him, leaning against the counter. "Now... we focus on ourselves. On our careers, on our personal growth. We figure out who we are as individuals, not just as... whatever we were."

Mingyu nodded, mirroring her pose against the opposite counter. "And us? Where do we stand?"

Y/N smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made Mingyu's heart skip a beat. "Friends," she said firmly. "Real friends this time. No games, no hidden agendas. Just two people who care about each other, supporting each other as we grow."

"Friends," Mingyu repeated, testing the word out. It wasn't everything he wanted, but it was a start. A foundation they could build on. "I like the sound of that."

Y/N pushed off from the counter, closing the distance between them. For a moment, Mingyu thought she might hug him, but she stopped just short, looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Mingyu," she said softly, "I need you to understand something. This isn't a 'no.' It's a 'not yet.' Can you... can you be okay with that?"

Mingyu felt something warm unfurl in his chest – hope, fragile but persistent. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "I can be very patient when it's for something worthwhile," he said, his voice low and sincere. "And you, Y/N? You're worth waiting for."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her smile was radiant. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Mingyu in a tight hug. He returned the embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo, committing this moment to memory.

When they finally pulled apart, both were a little misty-eyed, but there was a newfound lightness between them. The air felt clearer somehow, as if a storm had passed, leaving behind the promise of better days ahead.

Mingyu glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing with a start how much time had passed. "I should probably get going," he said reluctantly. "We have that radio interview this afternoon, and I should probably change and, uh, look less like I spent the night on someone's couch."

Y/N laughed, the sound music to Mingyu's ears. "Probably a good idea. We wouldn't want to start any new rumors, would we?"

As Mingyu gathered his things and made his way to the door, he paused, turning back to Y/N. "Hey, want to get coffee sometime this week? As friends?"

Y/N's smile was answer enough, but she nodded anyway. "I'd like that. Text me?"

"Definitely," Mingyu promised. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's cheek. "Thank you," he murmured. "For everything."

Y/N's cheeks flushed pink, but her smile never wavered. "Go on, get out of here before I change my mind and keep you hostage."

Mingyu laughed, giving her a mock salute before heading out the door. As he walked down the hallway, he couldn't help but start humming a new melody.

In her apartment, Y/N leaned against the closed door, her fingers lightly touching the spot where Mingyu had kissed her.

[freak-accident419]

That’s A Wrap

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Derek are pornstars. Filming your next video, things start to go wrong and you two just end up messing around and having a laugh together. However, as your laughs diminishes, things begin to become increasingly intimate between the two of you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, pornstar!derek danforth, pornstar!reader, pornography/filming, messing around/joking about dicks, movie references, humor, hand/blowjob, oral (m and reader receiving), unprotected (comtrary to the title lmao) penetration (no specified genitals for reader), creampie, lovemaking afterward, Heelys, porn with plot except the plot is porn, slightly ooc derek, slight fluff

-

“Here, set the tripod—”

“Hold on, it’s—wait—”

“No, just—wait, let me do it—”

After an excruciatingly long while, you and Derek were finally able to correct the camera’s position on the tripod, obtaining the perfect view of the bed.

Being pretty well-known pornstars for your acclaimed couple sex filmography, you and Derek have made easy money through this collaborative career. You have had several subscribers, views, and positive ratings ever since you first started (which was probably around two years ago). The fact that you were a real couple and had a fair amount of authentic, raw, and innovative videos made your channels gain much traction and praise.

The two of you were already fully undressed on the bed in front of the camera. You reached over and clicked the button to start recording. Derek laid on his back collectedly and you went down between his legs, your face in front of his cock.

“You ready?” You giggle slightly before wrapping your hand gently around his dick, moving it up and down along his shaft. He already nodded, which gave you the cue to put your mouth around him, sucking his head as your hand moved. But then—

Huh.

You suddenly pulled your mouth off with a ‘pop’ and groaned impatiently.

“What is it?” Derek asked, looking down at you.

“There was—fuck—there’s a hair in my mouth,” you say, struggling to get it out. “Fuck.”

After a while, you finally removed it from your tongue with your fingers and rolled your eyes, pumping him once again with your hand. “It’s out?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s out,” you answer with a faint chuckle, continuing to stroke him with one hand while the other tucked some strands of hair behind your ears. Then your hand finally pulled away from his dick, making you notice something dire. “Dude! You’re soft!”

He just looked at you quietly, but you could see some smugness, or at least amusement in his face.

“You’ve been soft the whole time and you knew we were gonna film? C’mon, man!” You complain with a light chuckle, starting your hand movements along his shaft again.

“Just hold on, it’s the dick, not me!” He protested.

“Oh, my god,” you mumble under your breath. “‘Ello?” You shouted frustratedly at his dick, slapping his thigh lightly, “zhis is your wake up call!” Your delivery was in a mocking French accent, making you laugh hysterically, resting your head on his thigh. Derek would usually get hard immediately, especially on occasions where he’d hear your adorable laughter, but for some reason, today in particular, it’s taking him a while.

In response to your allusion, he met you with silence, looking at you with confusion, yet also with a growing smile.

“C’mon! The Swan Princess?” You gasp in disbelief at the thought of him not being familiar with the movie you had referenced earlier. “1994?” You sang in a high-pitched mocking tone, “‘Derek, you and I, were meant tooo beeee…’ Even one of the character’s name is fucking Derek! No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“I have never heard of that movie in my lif—”

You gasp loudly again, slapping his thigh playfully. “You uncultured bitch! That movie was, like, my childhood! Derek, you are aware that I can easily just, like, rip off your dick right now, right? Like,” you made a gesture with your fist, jerking it out to mock the action. “Pow!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I just didn’t watch that kind of shit when I was a kid,” he reasons, fucking giggling at your hostility.

“Oh, okay, so—so what I’m hearing is—you didn’t have a normal childhood,” you retort with raised, knowing brow.

“What? Of course I had a normal childhood!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Right, right, but you probably got picked up from school in a goddamn helicopter, you fuckin’ nepo baby,” you teased with a faint smirk.

“Hey, I did not—” Derek cut himself off, “It was one time, and in my defense, it was an emergency,” he mumbled.

“What was the emergency, you wet your pants?” you giggle, lightly slapping his thigh again and getting a playful groan out of him. “Fuck, why is your dick still down? C’mon, man! Rise! Rise, my glorious creation, rise!” You cackled, laughing as your hand still gripped his cock, your head resting on his thigh, trying to sustain your laughter.

“Was that fucking Megamind?” Derek gaped as you accidentally drooled on his thigh from laughing too much.

“Oh, so you do have a little culture in you.” You bring your head up, wiping your mouth and grinned at him, starting your strokes once again. “Okay, okay. No more bullshit, let’s—let’s film this thing.” You pause frustratedly as you watched your hand move up and down his cock. “If only you could get hard, fuck! ¡Levántate, chorizo! Fuck!” You cackle, eyeing the camera, then looking back at Derek.

“Testing, testing, one, two, three, is this thing on?” You say ‘into’ the head of his cock as if it was a microphone, even tapping it lightly with your fingers. His dick was still limp in your hand, even though Derek couldn’t help but be turned on by your playfulness. “What do you call a cheap circumcision?”

You wait for comedic pause.

“A rip off.”

There was a slight pause before the two of you burst out laughing, Derek laughing at your stupid joke as he stroked your hair with his hand. “Oh my fucking god, Y/n,” he huffed, yet couldn’t help but smile. “You are fucking impossible, you know that?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll start, I’ll start,” you giggle. “I’ll be serious this time! You’re not, like, turned off or anything, are you?”

“No. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to turn me off,” he recalls with a soft chuckle, slightly caressing your hair.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I think I’ve become desensitized to your antics ever since the fruit roll-up incident.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh, letting your head flop down on his thigh, trying your absolute best to withhold it, yet of course, failing. “Okay, okay! Serious, I’ll be serious now.”

You begin to press gentle kisses to the soft, pink head of his cock, moving your hand slowly along up shaft. Then you kissed at his thighs as well, slightly removing your hand off his cock to leave small kisses up his length, tickling his faint veins with the tip of your tongue. You heard soft, quiet moans escape his lips as you did so, chuckling to yourself as you continued. Leaving more kisses, you lapped your tongue at his frenulum, gaining a louder noise from him. You chuckled to yourself as you saw him finally get fully hard.

“Fina-fucking-lly, thank god,” you huff in relief. “Holy shit, you’re hard as a fucking rock” you add, stroking him faster in your palm, sucking onto his head again before pulling away and switching positions, laying down on your back.

“We’re gonna have to crop out so much shit from this video, fuck,” he chuckles softly as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Hey, no, you can keep stuff in, our fans love whenever we joke around with each other!” You exclaim giddily as Derek rolls his eyes from amusement. “Hey, we should just, like, make a compilation of our outtakes, like—like a blooper reel!”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as his hands were placed on your thighs, lightly stroking them and spreading them apart in the process. “Bloopers?”

“Yeah, man! People love that shit. You know how when people cum after watching porn and they just feel, like, really dirty and the existential crisis just comes in, like—if there are bloopers at the end of the video, they’ll have something to laugh at, you know? Make us seem more human and therefore, make them feel human again after feeling like creeps,” you explain, surprisingly intricately, as you look up at Derek with an ecstatic grin.

“Okay, you do have a point, maybe you’re onto something,” he smiles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. “Ready, baby?” It was a husky, low mutter, immediately turning you on.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, letting out a soft gasp as you feel his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down your hole, each time threatening to penetrate it. Your eyes moved to the camera lens with a desperate look on your face, patient, yet seductive, low whines escaping your lips.

One of Derek’s hands were holding onto the leg on his shoulder, and the other one gripped on your own shoulder, slowly pushing his cock in through your entrance, getting a soft moan out from the two of you. He began thrusting slowly, emitting occasional wet squelches before he starts to move his hips faster on yours, filling the room with echoed slaps against skin.

You let out loud, high-pitched, pornographic moans that were, of course, exaggerated for the video as you looked into the camera, then back up into Derek’s eyes. While you didn’t have to fake anything for the most part, the porn industry and algorithms were a bit complicated, so to appeal to a wider audience, things had to be a little more exaggerated and ‘sexier’.

Yet, not even after a split second, you burst out laughing which made Derek cease his thrusts, looking at you with utter confusion.

“Y/n, what—”

“I’m sorry, Derek, I can’t take shit seriously today!” You exclaim, cackling loudly in the room as he pulls out of you, laying your leg back down.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he grumbles, except there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “You are—You are fucking ridiculous,” Derek claims as he slaps your thigh playfully. But then he leaned in, kissing your lips softly, trailing them down to your neck and nibbling certain, ticklish areas that got a quiet moan out of you. “You gonna behave now, darling?”

It was difficult to suppress your giggles. “No, probably not,” you answer, cackling. Holy shit, it was like you were on fucking laughing gas.

“Oh my fucking god!” He complains with a slight grin on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you right now, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed apologetically, yet laughing at the same time. “I can’t, I can’t! Okay, okay, fuck, let’s do this, I’ll comply—I’ll comply!”

“Fucking shit,” he mutters, continuing to press soft kisses up your neck and collarbone. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he jokes, and before you could say anything, his lips silenced yours in a passionate, soft kiss. You hum pleasantly in the kiss, feeling his gentle lips moving with yours, his tongue parting them to explore and taste your mouth. You tangle his hair in your fingers when you place your hands behind his head, feeling his own hands grip your waist.

Then his lips finally parted from yours, peppering kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, then to your chest, all the way down to your groin. Derek gently spread out your thighs, his fingernails digging lightly in the plush skin. He looked up at you and grinned to himself, finally lapping his tongue at your sensitive areas. You begin to moan in response, feeling the pleasure that your partner offered.

“So fucking beautiful, baby,” he muttered under his breath as he continued with his tongue, kissing at the area as well. “So damn frustrating ‘n annoying, but so fucking gorgeous, fuck…”

“O-oh, fuck… f-fuck, Derek, ah…” you whimper quietly as he continued with his intricate tongue.

Derek then pulled his mouth away, hovering above you, grabbing your legs gently to guide them around his hips. Leaning down to kiss your forehead and your lips, he finally and slowly pushed his hard cock through your tight, desperate entrance, beginning to moan as you feel his girth stretch your sensitive, fleshy walls, pushing further and further inside of you. He was being very gentle as well, pressing his lips onto yours as his hips were touching yours, then finally thrusted out slowly. “G—Oh, god,” you pant.

His hips then pushed back in until he thrusted at a steady pace, letting out quiet grunts as your own sounds increased. Your legs tightened around his hips as he gripped harsher on your thighs, gradually increasing his speed. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, rocking his hips into yours, “you’re doing so good for me.”

At this point, you forgot that there was a camera beside you.

It happens all the time, you forgetting, because you’re so wrapped up in the sex you were having with your partner, of course. But for some reason, this felt a bit different. It felt more intimate.

You were panting, letting out silent whines and occasional moans as he moved inside of you, pleasuring you with his cock. Then suddenly, with one hand, he reached down and touched you, holding onto your thighs tightly to thrust into you while pleasuring another sensitive area of yours with his fingers.

“F-fuck!” You whine as your breathing quickens, beginning to moan more prominently.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, crying around my fucking cock,” he grunts, his pace increasing as you feel his speed stimulating your walls. “Fuck, you’re so amazing. So fucking tight. Feels so good around me.”

“O-oh, god!” You exclaim before you start to moan more frequently and loudly, your sounds echoing in the room as Derek goes deeper and faster inside of you. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the atmosphere, accompanied by increasing wet squelches and moans from Derek now as well. His balls slapped against the bottom of your ass every time he thrusted in, every sensation encouraging Derek to go even faster.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer with every harsh thrust. He then hooked his arms under yours, gripping onto your shoulders from the back, bringing his body closer to yours to kiss your neck, essentially tackling it with his tongue. You brought your hands up to his back, digging your fingernails in his skin and moaning softly and passionately, hearing his voice falter as well.

“I’m cumming!” You whine, breathing and moaning heavily, clenching around him. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck!” He groans, continuing to push you to the edge with his cock, driving you closer and closer to your sweet orgasm. “That’s it, baby, cum for me, sweetheart, f-fuck—”

Your hips move quickly together, causing friction against your pelvis as Derek attempted to keep thrusting at a deeper and faster pace. And with one final buck of his hips, your body stiffened and—

“A-ahhhhh!” You moaned exuberantly, releasing from the ecstatic sensations, your hips against his slightly twitching, as well as your thighs. “F-fuck, Derek, a-ahh!”

“F-fuck—” Derek groaned as he thrusted a few more times before cumming deeply inside of you, spurts of his warm, white semen spilling into and painting your walls. “G-god, Y/n, ah-ahhh—fuck!” He moans as his body became stiff after making sure he was essentially balls deep inside before collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily.

You panted, letting out a few small whimpers after coming down from your high, until you felt Derek’s hands begin to caress your face and play with a piece of your hair between your fingers in loving curiosity. Then he pulls his cock out of you, leaving kisses at your neck, chest, then stomach as he moved his body down between your legs. He watched his cum slowly and satisfyingly gush out of your hole, letting out an instinctive moan, pecking your thigh with his lips. Then he slipped in his middle and ring finger through your seeping entrance, pushing his ejaculate deeply back inside of you, increasing your heavy breaths and remaining, quiet whines. After he was satisfied, Derek pressed an innocent kiss to your most sensitive spot then sucked his fingers clean before moving back up to meet your eyes, kissing your lips passionately and sweetly, legs tangling together.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you again affectionately, touching your sides with his soft, gentle palms.

“I love you too,” you muttered with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him back giddily.

You laid there together for a while, Derek’s head nuzzling your neck. You were still fairly tired in the aftermath of your orgasm, breathing heavily and panting together as you start to acknowledge the smell of sex filling the atmosphere. Then you looked to your right and chuckled softly under your breath.

“Camera’s still rolling,” you say quietly with a raised eyebrow as Derek moves his head out of your neck.

“Oh shit,” he says, leaving your body for a split second to press the button on the camera across the bed. You giggled as you watched him do this, laying on top of you right after.

“We’ll, uh, schedule its upload on Saturday,” he says, kissing your cheek then placing his head back in your neck. He was truly infatuated with you.

“I totally forgot we were even filming a porno,” you scoff playfully as you rubbed his back and occasionally played with his soft curls.

“Yeah,” he breathes, caressing your skin once more. “Yeah, actually. You know, it almost feels—”

“Too personal, yeah,” you say, finishing his sentence. The two of you reflected the past moment and thought about every aspect of it. How you started off making several jokes, laughing together, before ultimately making sweet love. And while you’ve mostly always did couple lovemaking pornos for your content, this one in particular felt almost too personal. Like, you’ve posted mostly all of the things you two filmed together, and to have something so intimate and so pure on camera… you wanted to keep it to yourself.

He pops his head up from your neck and looks at you curiously. “You don’t wanna post it, huh?”

He knew you too well.

“Well, you know. It was very… intimate. Like, too intimate and too personal, I kinda wanna… I don’t know… Keep it to ourselves. Like, the public already has enough of our sex tapes, I kinda just want something of our own together, you know?” You explain, watching his gentle, hazel eyes as he processed your words.

“Yeah, no, definitely, I agree, baby,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then began to pepper some kisses on your neck. “It was way too… authentic. And, like, we post the most authentic shit,” he chuckles. “You’re right, we should just keep this for ourselves. We could probably just post a blooper compilation in the meantime.”

“Oh my god, seriously? You’re gonna do my idea?” You beam, gaining a snicker from Derek’s throat.

“Hey, I thought about it, it’s a great idea. The perverts don’t have to feel too much of a pervert when they see us just fucking around, being human,” he giggles as you felt your neck tickle from the relentlessness of his tongue.

His phone on the nightstand buzzed, making him groan slightly and reach for it, looking at his notification.

“Fuck,” he says.

“What?”

“Fuck!”

You were confused. “D—”

“I have a meeting to go to, fuck,” he answered, kissing your lips quickly, getting off of you as he tried to retrieve his clothes.

“What the fuck, Derek, I thought you said your schedule was clear this whole day,” you frown, sitting up slightly against the bed frame as you watched him put his clothes back on.

“Well, turns out that was tomorrow. I have a fuckin’ meeting with these, like, international dudes, I don’t fuckin’ know,” Derek mumbles, buttoning up his shirt, then reaching down on the ground for his shoes. “I’m sorry, baby. I really wanted to lay with you the whole day,” he apologizes with a shameful sigh.

“It’s okay, baby. We could always—”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are those fucking Heelys?”

Watching him glide to the desk to retrieve his wristwatch made you physically cringe, looking at him in disbelief with an open mouth.

He looked at you curiously while putting on his watch. “Uh, yeah, they are, why?”

You stifle your laughs. “Oh my fucking god, you’re ridiculous, babe.”

“What? What’s wrong with Heelys?”

“Nothing. Everything,” you reply, snickers beginning to leave your lips. “It’s just… You just made love to me, came balls deep inside of me on camera, and now you’re just—gliding around the room with fucking Heelys, holy shit.”

He pursed his lips then nodded with a slight, knowing smirk. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You are ridiculous!” You exclaim amusedly. With his Heelys, he rolled towards you, and you began to giggle and laugh after he pulled the sheets off of your torso, covering your belly in several, ticklish kisses. “Fuck, stop that!” You cackle, squirming around and trying to push him away.

You two share one more long, passionate kiss on the lips as he smiles at you, walking towards the door afterwards. “See you when I get back, baby,” he chuckles with giddy after seeing your adorable state.

“Mm, don’t party too hard,” you joke with a smirk.

“Oh, please, the closest thing to a party that those old fucks have to offer is their shitty ass wine,” he scoffs with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Don’t be long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And hey, maybe we could try to film another one?” He raises an eyebrow once he opens the door, still looking back at you.

“Deal,” you grin. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[pete-spankoffski]

[Cal stirs slightly in the morning. The first thing they feel is the soreness in their face from that fucking swan. A few dark bruises pepper Cal's face around their nose. They wince, laying their head on Pete's chest so he doesn't see it first thing.]

-@calaverage

[ A moment after, Pete wakes up. He glances around and looks down at them, chuckling. ]

Goodmorning.

[honeyedlashton]

🖤🤠🖤

[nicromancytarot]

A SONG FOR YOU

This is a general channelling based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my content is not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes.

PICK A PILE CHANNELLING

I write songs sometimes in my free time, and I asked my spirit guides to give you guys a song which could have something that you need to hear right now. Pick a card and enjoy some lyrics.

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2

Pile 3 ———> Pile 4

PILE 1

SWAN DIVE

VERSE 1

promise me one thing,

you’ll never let this go,

we’ll be a forever answer,

to the calls of the unknown

VERSE 2

nothing to tear us apart,

it’s the only thing i fear,

not having you anymore,

while i’m still stuck here

PRE-CHORUS

nothing can destroy us,

you’ll be by my side,

til the end of time

(til the end of time)

CHORUS

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

i’m falling from the sky,

so you’ll always be mine,

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

from the clouds into the ground,

i’ll be by your side

VERSE 3

no one can compare,

to the love i have for you,

no one can treat me better,

than the way you do

VERSE 4

when you jump i’ll jump too

i’ll always follow you,

to the deep depths of death,

there’s nothing i wouldn’t do

PRE-CHORUS

nothing can destroy us,

you’ll always be by my side,

til the end of time

(til the end of time)

CHORUS

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

i’m falling from the sky,

so you’ll always be mine,

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

from the clouds into the ground,

i’ll be by your side

LAST VERSE

my heart is tied to yours,

it beats when yours does,

we’ll be inseparable,

in the sky above

Swans mate for life, when their partner dies, the remaining swan flies high into the sky and falls to their death, performing their last swan dive. The narrator is serenading their partner, telling them that their love is to last beyond the grave.

PILE 2

DELUSIONAL WONDER

VERSE 1

sometimes i wish that i could live inside my mind,

so i could figure out what’s going on behind,

you greet me with a smile and open arms,

when i’m with you i feel safe from harm

VERSE 2

you lean in to give me a kiss on my cheek,

and pass me a bouquet of my favourite flowers,

oh how it’s so good for us to finally meet,

i pace around my room and think about you for hours

CHORUS

and you say...

come on, come closer,

let me hold you til the war is over,

and if i ever let you go,

just know that i’m your delusional wonder

BRIDGE

turn the page and dry your tears,

keep pretending that i am near,

and when we meet again tonight,

we can pick off where we ended last time

CHORUS

come on, come closer,

i’ll let you hold me til the war is over,

and if you ever let me go,

i’ll always know that you’re my delusional wonder

BRIDGE

visit me again in my dreams,

like you do everyday of each week,

and when i hold your head in my hands,

i’ll remember it’s a fantasy land

VERSE 3

when i wake up and see you’re not laying next to me,

a fear strikes deep deep inside my being,

you know there’s something wrong when you think something exists but it don’t (though)

VERSE 4

and even when i beckon upon your name,

the sound of silence always stays the same,

the earth is a desolate place when you’re not here and only in my dreams

CHORUS

and you say...

come on, come closer,

let me hold you til the war is over,

and if i ever let you go,

just know that i’m your delusional wonder

BRIDGE

turn the page and dry your tears,

keep pretending that i am near,

and when we meet again tonight,

we can pick up where we ended last time

CHORUS

come on, come closer,

let me hold you til the war is over,

and if i ever let you go,

just know that i’m your delusional wonder,

come on, come closer,

i’ll let you hold me til the war is over,

and if you ever let me go,

i’ll always know that you’re my delusional wonder

the narrator is daydreaming as an escape from reality, and falls in love with a character they have made up in her head just to realise that they are not real.

PILE 3

SILENCE CAUSES VIOLENCE

(This one was written purely for this.)

VERSE 1

i’m like a ballerina in a jewellery box,

when the music stops,

my heart drops,

i cant be alone with my own thoughts,

without thinking about ending it all

VERSE 2

what makes my mind so useless?

an apathetic version of what i say,

i often think that i’m going insane,

but it’s all in my brain,

yeah, it’s all in my brain?

CHORUS

i’m begging you, don’t let the quiet in,

cause i don’t know what is bound to happen,

the silence causes violence,

a rapture in my heart,

i won’t give in,

but the temptation is calling me

POST-CHORUS

they think Im crazy,

they think i’m out of my mind,

embodying the devil,

won’t hear me out this time,

they think that i am crazy,

some part of a losing game,

one they won’t play for me,

confiscated their tokens away

VERSE 3

i’ve got a taste for destruction,

pouring salt on my own wounds,

refusing to heal my past,

lifting the rug to sweep my dooms

CHORUS

i’m begging you, don’t let the quiet in,

cause I don’t know what is bound to happen,

the silence causes violence,

a rapture in my heart,

i won’t give in,

but the temptations still calling me

The narrators biggest fear is to be alone, to have to think about past experiences, so they overindulge in coping mechanisms, like constant partying.

PILE 4

SCARED OF THE DARK

VERSE 1

racing through emotions,

throwing daggers at my friends,

i promised i wouldn’t hurt myself,

putting means to an end,

i’m enclosed in my room,

painting sheets with all my tears,

tearing myself apart,

analysing all my fears

VERSE 2

i’ve got a target on my back,

but i’m the one with the gun,

inflicting harm on myself,

my mind won’t let me run,

i’m trying to let go,

but the storm cloud followed,

darting into alleyways,

i wanna be alone

CHORUS

i’m not scared of the dark,

but the monsters that live within,

i’m terrified of my reflection,

the mirror showcases all my sins,

the ghoul’s under my bed,

and he’s gripping on my legs,

pulling me under with him,

now the cycle repeats again

BRIDGE

i pulled myself out of this before,

pinched myself so hard, blood could be drawn,

pressed my lips to a glass of cherry wine,

drowned my fears in alcohol,

i do this all the time

VERSE 3

come with me into the night,

this time i won’t put up a fight,

i’ll let myself consume the darkness,

even though it don’t feel right,

let me fall onto my knees,

down by your gravestone i will plead,

let me live my life in comfort,

surrounded by the shadows in me

BRIDGE

i pulled myself out of this before,

pinched myself so hard, blood could be drawn,

pressed my lips to a glass of cherry wine,

drowned my fears in alcohol,

i do this all the time

CHORUS

i’m not scared of the dark,

but the monsters that live within,

i’m terrified of my reflection,

the mirror showcases all my sins,

the ghoul’s under my bed,

and he’s gripping on my legs,

pulling me under with him,

now the cycle repeats again

The narrator can feel themself falling back into that dark place, they try to fight it at first, before letting it consume them, becoming victim to their own sadness.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 14

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; minor discussion of cold symptoms; allusions to prior CA; allusions to prior SA; sexual themes; thoughts of suicide.

When Daryl woke, his head wasn’t pulsing as it had been before he’d given in to rest he so desperately needed. The symptoms were still present but improved. If he wasn’t still so tired, he might have engaged in a bit of self-loathing. How could he let himself get so run down? He had people to protect. He had you to protect. 

Drawing in a deep breath, he managed not to cough even when he felt the tickle at the back of his throat. He groaned at the effort of opening his eyes, the pale light on the top of the walls coming from the moon. He had slept all day. Shit. Nothing could be done now, other than maybe offering to take watch from whoever was on duty. 

His tired gaze slid back down, stopping abruptly when he found your arm on the mattress, your hand resting on his. He was careful when raising his head to get a look at you. You were curled on your side, head pillowed on your other arm. Had you left him at all?  

He watched you sleep until his neck protested the awkward angle and he let his cheek rest against the pillow. Would he be able to slip his hand from underneath yours without waking you? Should he put you on the mattress before he left for the watchtower? Why was everything about his companionship with you a fucking guessing game?

Daryl laid there quite a bit longer, actually trying to go back to sleep, but several things stood in the way of that. He was on the mattress with a pillow and a blanket while you slept on top of the thin sleeping bag on the floor. He was accustomed to sleeping on hard surfaces. He grew up with punishments like being locked in the bathroom for two days, forced to sleep in the grimy tub. When he had taken to the woods at such a young age, the forest floor became his bed. 

The more he thought about that, it eventually brought him around to the place from which he had rescued you. You likely had no bed either. The sleeping bag was probably an upgrade from that situation. 

Then there was your smaller hand on his. His thoughts were taking a swan dive right into the gutter. He tried to focus on the simplicity of it. You either wanted to comfort him while he was under the weather or you needed the comfort yourself. 

Regardless of his efforts, he always ended up imagining pulling you onto the mattress and burying his face between your legs; how you would whimper and whine for more friction but he’d take his time to taste every inch of your pussy. He’d show you how intimacy was supposed to feel. Not pain or fear. He wanted to show you soft touches with heated fingers, whispered reassurances, connecting with someone on a level that would leave you feeling safe and wanted. 

He wished like hell he could show you all of that because it was what he needed too. 

Your fingers carding through his hair while he slowly rolled his hips into you. Your soft lips on his collarbone, painting a wet, burning trail down to his cock. Your nails gliding up and down his spine while you held him against you afterwards. Your touches would be without judgment when you’d feel the ridges of a scar. You’d kiss each one of them and he’d let you. 

When he felt his eyes sting, he turned his face into the pillow. He had to get away from you. He was too deep into the habit of running from feelings triggered by things he could never have. He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember. It kept him safe, kept whatever shriveled mess of a heart he had protected from further damage. 

He’d been keeping his distance when he wasn’t training you. He’d wander the fences or skulk out into the woods. And when the desire for you became too strong, he would go into the showers and allow himself to have you in his mind before taking each scene he played out and locking it up tight. 

It was when he’d realized that he wanted more from you than your body that he became really ill at ease. He wanted you, as a whole. He wanted to be the one to give back what those cowards had stolen from you. He wanted to see you smile and laugh while knowing he helped bring you there. As much as he wanted it, he was a coward in a different sense. He had nothing to offer you. He was broken beyond repair, too afraid he’d use your fragmented pieces to only patch himself up while leaving you shattered. You deserved so much more than what he could ever hope to give you. 

Your fingers twitched against his hand, forcing his self-deprecating thoughts onto the back burner. He rubbed his face against the pillow, afraid of any tears that might have managed to escape. That’d be all you needed. He finally faced you to find you peeking over the edge of the mattress. You were silently blinking at him until you knew he was awake, then you sat up with a smile. 

God, he wanted to hear you talk again. 

“Hey.” Daryl whispered, voice still rough from the cold he’d brought on himself. You tilted your head and gave him a small wave that took your hand away from him. He found it alarming how much he missed it so quickly. 

When you touched him again, it was your palm to his forehead. He knew he was still slightly feverish, could feel it in the slight ache in his joints and the lingering fatigue. The way your mouth turned down just confirmed what he already knew. 

“S’jus’ a cold. M’fine.” He waited until you lowered your hand to sit up. He really was okay, aside from feeling like shit. He’d definitely felt worse before and wouldn’t be made an invalid by a silly head cold. “M’ gon’ see if I can help on watch.” Daryl began to slide down the mattress to grab his boots, brought to a stop by your hand on his bicep. You were already shaking your head before he even looked at you. “Told ya m’fine.” His body chose then to betray him with a barking cough. Your frown deepened. 

You were a persistent little thing, weren’t you? He watched with something akin to amusement, unable to find a single trace of annoyance, while you crawled onto the mattress and sat back on your knees. You brought your other hand to join the first, tugging lightly but incessantly. 

The way you looked at him, big doe eyes shining in the pale light, actually kindled a feeling of guilt at wanting to leave. You shook your head again, appearing frustrated with yourself. It must have felt horrible to be unable to speak. With the way you mouthed the words, it was obvious you were trying. Daryl wished again that he had reached you sooner, that he could have stopped those bastards from touching you. He just couldn’t understand how all of this wasn’t his fault. 

You shuffled on your knees to sit next to him, pressing your palm to his forehead, then his chest, and shaking your head. He didn’t need to hear the next word you mouthed to know what it was. 

“Please.”

If you wanted him to stay that badly— to rest, he supposed —then he couldn’t deny you. He owed you that much. 

“Alrigh’, m’a stay.” You beamed at him, resulting in a fluttering feeling in his stomach that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant. When he realized he was staring, he quickly looked away, somewhere over your shoulder. 

You bounced on your knees for a moment and then crawled back toward the edge of the mattress, both actions nearly making the archer groan. He bit the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood coated the side of his tongue. He felt like some horny teenager. 

Luckily for him, you spared him from yet another self bashing by flopping onto the sleeping bag. You appeared settled and content but Daryl still wasn’t having it. 

“Nuh-uh. If m’gonna stay, ya gotta take the bed.” You sat up, brow drawing inward into what he assumed was your attempt at intimidation. If he wasn't serious about getting you to take the mattress, he might have chuckled. “No arguin’, woman. Take the damn bed.” 

You shook your head and crossed your arms for added effect, only making you that much more adorable. A slender finger pointed at him sharply before you made a fist and coughed into it. 

“I’ll live. Don’ need no mother hen.” He grumbled. He was two seconds away from scooping you up and depositing you on the mattress himself. Your easily triggered fear was the only thing giving him pause. When you still refused to budge, he made to get up. “Fine. Goin’ ta take watch.”

This time, when you caught his wrist, your bottom lip was out and there was no resisting the half smile that ticked onto his face, albeit briefly. You scowled at him then, sitting back on your heels and tapping your chin. Your finger stilled as your eyes narrowed, staring pointedly at the pillow. Your expression was troubled. 

Daryl’s amusement faded. “Hey, wha’s wrong?” He asked quietly. Showing so much concern for someone outside of walker attacks and crazy men with undead battle royales was so new to him. He had never been a comforter. A protector in recent months, sure, but never a comforter. He just didn’t have that quality about him. Yet you continued to pull at threads he didn’t even know were sewn into him. 

You shook your head slowly, remaining still for another moment, but then you were moving. Your face was set in a determination Daryl had yet to see from you, leaving him curious. You slid the pillow over and then the blanket before grabbing the edge of the sleeping bag and dragging it up onto the— Shit.

By the time his brain caught up, you were already pointing at him then to the pillow then yourself and to the sleeping bag. 

“Ya wan’ us both ta sleep on the bed?”

You nodded, still looking more determined than made sense. 

“Nah. No.” There was absolutely no way. He and Carol had shared sleeping areas before but that was Carol, his best friend. He had never used thoughts of her to pleasure himself. Until you, it was an automatic thing. Stress relief, chasing the high, before and the two times after the turn. He didn’t need to imagine anyone. Now, it was always you. “Not a good idea.”

You tilted your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You wanted to say something, it was obvious. He could take a stab in the dark as to what it was. 

“I know that yer offerin’ somethin’ tha’s hard fer ya n’ I ‘preciate it. Ain’t a good idea.” He hadn’t realized he was rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip until he bit down on the skin. “Think I should jus’ go n’ take watch.” His voice strained on the last word and he coughed. Still, he tried again to get up, only this time, your arms wrapped around him from behind with your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. 

Ah, fuck. 

You were trembling. He thought, at first, that it was because you were getting more and more upset. That was probably at least part of it. But then, the most surprising thing. 

“Please…stay.” 

Daryl inhaled sharply. Your voice was so rough from disuse, the energy it took for you to force out the words must have been draining. You slumped against his back but your grip on the front of his vest held true. You’d finally spoken. And it was for him. Rough or not, it was like a soothing balm straight to his soul.

He loosened your fingers with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed and twisted to get a look at you. Your eyes held a tired resignation. This was your final attempt before you’d give up and he didn’t have the heart to deny you. 

“Okay.”

You didn’t smile this time, only giving the smallest dip of your chin in a nod. The archer’s insides were twisting and flipping with emotions he didn’t know how to handle, but he crawled past you pushed the pillow over to the sleeping bag. You didn’t argue. Then he gripped the blanket and moved it further, nearly to the very edge of the small mattress. You’d both have to lie on your sides to fit and it would be much closer than he was comfortable with, but he continued regardless, his mind moving too fast to be able to focus on the anxiety. 

You had already laid down before he finally took his spot, thankful that it was close to the wall and he could press himself back a little further. Why he laid down to face you was anyone’s guess. He made a valiant attempt to avoid your gaze until your palm pressed against his forehead again. Why didn’t he flinch away from you? He despised being touched. Nothing made sense. His eyes met yours despite his reluctance, and he could see the relief pooling there. You had been so worried over a cold. 

Maybe it was because he’d taken care of you while you recovered. Maybe it was because you wanted to show kindness to prove it hadn’t been taken from you with everything else. Maybe it was because—

He shut the thoughts down, sealed them up tight. Your fingers brushed across his forehead and swept back the fringe that always fell over his face. Maybe he should cut his hair so you wouldn’t feel the need to do that. You drew back your hand and pressed it against your chest, your eyes trying hard to close when you were obviously fighting against it. He turned over, away from you. It felt like his only option, both to ensure you’d sleep and to keep himself in check. 

He must have exerted more energy than he’d realized because it was mere moments later when the thoughts ceased and he knew nothing more. 

You watched silently as his breaths deepened and evened out. The congestion from the cold gave each breath a wet, smothered sound but he was okay. Truthfully, he wasn’t even very warm. A low grade fever at best but he needed to stay in bed to get over the mild illness. If he pushed himself, you knew it would last longer, maybe even worsen. You couldn’t help but be reminded of being so sick because you were forced to work when you hadn’t felt well. Then you were tossed inside your cage with a pack of several cough suppressants. You had been so close to taking them all and hoping it did you in. Now, you were glad you didn’t. 

You would have never met Daryl. 

That alone, his friendship, almost made all you’d been through worth all the ugliness. He was enough to encourage you to pull your voice from the confines of your mind and force it over your tongue. It had been both a physical and mental battle and a tremendous effort.

You didn’t remember much before your time under Big Jazz. It was like everything human had been beaten out of you, taken away and placed under lock and key, the latter held by each man that put their hands on you for their own pleasure. Little by little, you were reclaiming those pieces of yourself. You could remember men from before, the ones that broke your heart in a much more humane but still painful way. Normal relationships. 

Not one of them looked at you like Daryl did. 

The archer hid behind a mask of indifference, but you could see past that, having been the victim of men who were truly complacent to the hurt they caused. Daryl was different. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. There was always a hint of remorse if he raised his voice. Now, he even made the effort to walk away and gather himself before coming back to make it right. He only sometimes apologized verbally, that just wasn’t his nature. But he didn’t need to. His eyes gave him away. 

Regardless of the hesitance you still felt toward everyone, it was improving. Even with that gnawing anxiety, you felt drawn to the archer. And when he was close enough, there was a stillness in your soul that you could get lost in. You found you wanted to and that was daunting. 

Now that the two of you were settled, you no longer felt tired. You wanted to watch over him, make sure he rested adequately. You wondered if you should go get him some soup and tea like you had planned. 

“Daryl?” Carol’s voice carried up the stairs. There was a moment of silence and then the sound of boots on metal. You sat up, your eyes on Daryl, who had yet to stir. He must feel awful if he wasn’t responding to outside stimuli. Once you saw the silver hair, you put your finger to your lips. Carol stopped just shy of the top step when she saw you, her gaze sliding over to the archer and then back to you. A cheeky grin lit up her face. 

You pursed your lips in distaste. “No.” You whispered, finding the word harder to say in Carol’s presence. “Sick.” You took a deep breath, calming your suddenly frazzled nerves. The situation between you and Carol was still tense, but you could feel the slight shift, something just naturally healing itself. Maybe it was because you subconsciously knew what happened to you was out of her control. 

“Sick? What do you mean sick?” Carol took another step, looking panicked. You held up a hand, absently placing the other on Daryl’s back as if the gesture would coax him into staying asleep. He did. The other woman froze, staring wide-eyed at your hand and a knowing smile replaced the previous grin. 

Your hand swiftly retracted. “Cold.” You coughed, verbally communicating felt like it was literally dusting off your vocal cords. “Broth? Tea?” 

“I’ll bring you both some. It sounds like you could use it.” She turned and took a step but stopped to look over her shoulder. “It’s nice to hear you talking.” There was a slight jerk as if she started to move and forced herself to wait. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. For what happened to you. I know I… I let you down and—”

“Okay.” You whispered, smiling gently. It was still difficult to believe her words. After all, you clung to them when you first arrived and they shattered in your hands. You tried for a reassuring smile, apparently coming close enough that she returned one and called ‘be right back’ from her descent.  

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake. It seemed a shame to wake him for food but he didn’t eat at all the day before. You didn’t know much about caring for a sick person but it was a given that the body needed energy and energy came from nutrition. Maybe it would take Carol a while to find some and the archer could sleep a little longer. He’d slept so much but he must have needed it to not wake as easily as he usually did. 

You ended up lying back down beside him and watching him sleep. Watching over him like he had watched over you. 

Carol didn’t take long to return. She had found a can of chicken noodle soup, and it wasn’t even expired! She thought anyway. Who knew what the date was anymore? The tea was actually an easier find. Apparently everyone wanted coffee but tea was in abundance. Peppermint tea with as much sugar as could be spared. Bowls and mugs were steaming when she arrived with them. They needed to cool a bit and that gave you time to rouse Daryl slowly. 

Or so you thought. 

When you shook his shoulder, he bolted up and pressed himself against the wall, grasping for his knife on his thigh, appearing even more feral when he realized it wasn’t there. 

“Daryl.” You whispered, both to calm him and because your throat ached. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, not quite awake. You reached for him, palm up, but didn’t touch him. “Safe.”

The shift from panic to confusion to realization was gradual but you waited him out. You knew what nightmares could do, how they could leave you feeling lost from reality in those first few moments if you wake suddenly. You hadn’t realized he’d been dreaming at all, he was so still. 

He finally eased down onto his knees, chest still heaving. To your surprise, he hesitantly placed his palm on top of yours for only a second before pulling it back and falling over onto his ass, his back against the wall. 

“M’sorry.” He rasped, wiping at his face tiredly. The rough breaths turned into a cough and then a sniff. He didn’t appear to be crying so that one could be chalked up to a runny nose. 

“Tea.” You carefully lifted one of the cups and offered it. He accepted with little reluctance, staring into it blankly. 

“Yer still takin’.” He croaked, wincing before taking a sip. You hoped it had cooled enough. You received your answer when he hummed appreciatively. 

“Yeah.” You took a sip of your own, sighing in relief at the gentle, soothing burn. 

“Thought I dreamt it.” He was watching you over the rim of the mug as he tilted it to his lips. 

“Dream of me?” You teased, feeling bad when he sputtered and spit back into the cup. Still, you chuckled. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” 

You couldn’t help but notice he didn’t answer. Your stomach fluttered pleasantly, a feeling you remembered from the before. It was both terrifying and relieving. You sat your tea back on the tray and held your hand out for his. The archer took one last sip and relinquished the mug. You traded it for a bowl, giggling when he tried to sniff it but his nose was too stuffy, making him scowl. 

“Eat.” You urged, lifting the spoon to your lips. Studying your soup, you could remember your mother making it for you when you were young. Mixing it with water and cooking it until it was all you could smell. You weren’t a fan of the obviously processed meat but the broth was always just what you needed if you were feeling poorly. 

You lifted the spoon to your mouth, distracted by a slurping across from you. Your eyes lifted to gaze from beneath your lashes. Daryl had placed the spoon on his lap and was simply drinking the soup from the edge of the bowl. The childlike mannerism had you giggling all over again. You couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled so often. It made your cheeks hurt. 

Daryl went still. He lowered the bowl, his face red, his eyes lowered. Had you embarrassed him? It wasn’t something that bothered you. You found it endearing. Yet, you didn’t know how to voice that without shaming him further. So, you did the next most logical thing. 

Blue eyes flitted up when you tapped the spoon against the edge of the bowl and then placed the utensil on your lap. Reaching for his bowl, you rested your palm below his hand and pushed for him to lift it. He obliged with a confused frown but then you were taking back your hand and lifting your own bowl, drinking the broth from the edge. You made no noise, where he slurped at his own loudly.  The red hue of his cheeks was fading but he wouldn’t look at you. 

That was okay because, that way, he didn’t see you smiling from behind your bowl. 

Taglist:

@royaltysuite @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @callmeyn @lilyevanstan1325 @the-lonely-abyss @gutsby @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @hutchersonsgurl @the-milk-is-rotten @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @richardsamboramylove55 @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @atyourmomshouse01 @bultamer @mia051 @memphiscity69 @flowerspetalsthorns @riya12044 @ariacraigggg @morgan556 @carley12041 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @twdislifee @bae-live-0 @elbellmam @aleemendoza2425-blog @ramdomhoe @ren9sstuff

[crushmeeren]

› › › we’ll find a way.

⋆ ⌒ inspired by Red Swan from AOT season 3.

̽ ⋆ main warnings › › angst/comfort, pregnant reader in Katsuki’s part, dealing with the grief of losing a sibling in Shouto’s part. ̽ ⋆

⋆ ft. katsuki & shoto ⋆

master list link

Katsuki works himself down to the bone. Then he whittles away at said bone until he’s nothing more than a pile of dust waiting to be swept off by the wind. Not surprising, seeing as how he’s had this iron clad determination since way before you met him.

And yet…. the past few weeks you’ve watched helplessly as your husband slips through your fingers like sand. Honestly, you knew what you signed up for. So you shouldn’t be so hurt when Katsuki starts missing more dinners than usual. You shouldn’t be so hurt when his patrols run even longer through the night. You shouldn’t be so hurt when he starts working on the weekends.

But you are. You’re so so hurt, and it aches in the hollow of your chest in a way no medication could ever hope to relieve. Recreational or otherwise.

Even so, you’re a goddamn sucker for Katsuki. No matter how much the bitterness swells inside you, no matter how hard you have to bite the inside of your lip so it doesn’t spill out as distasteful vitriol.

That’s why you give him the benefit of the doubt when he tells you for, what seems like the hundredth time, that he’ll be home for the day on Saturday. After all, you promised long ago you’d keep at least one day the of the week for each other, even if he hasn’t been keeping up his side of the deal.

That afternoon comes and you find yourself on the couch waiting for the blonde, clutching eagerly at the gift you’re going to give him. It’s something you’d both wanted for some time and finally, finally it seems luck is on your side. It’ll be worth all the pain you’ve dealt with recently.

An hour passes and you try to call him, fidgeting in your seat. He assures you he’ll be home in thirty minutes. Another hour and a half goes by and this time he doesn’t answer your call.

The evening is rapidly approaching and cicadas sing outside your window when a fury so powerful you can fucking taste it wells up on the back of your tongue and rushes through your veins. Blood flushes your face so hotly it burns your eyes and your heart pulses in your ears.

Looking down at the fabric in your shaky hands, tears bite your waterline and suddenly the rage flips on its head and melts into sorrow. Shoulders drooping, you sigh in defeat and carefully lay out the piece of clothing on your coffee table in plain view. You smooth out any wrinkles carefully.

You move like a tornado throughout the living room, gathering your phone, your purse, slipping on your shoes. Glancing back at the orange and black onesie on the table that reads “daddy’s number one hero,” turns your stomach to knots and you make haste to Kirishima’s house.

You were going to tell Katsuki that you were pregnant tonight, but now you’re sobbing into Kirishima’s shoulder at his house and ignoring your husband’s frantic calls and messages.

Not even a few hours later Katsuki’s calling his agency and telling them shove their extra work up their goddamn asses because you’re his entire fucking world and it makes him sick to see what he’s been doing to you.

He’ll be damned if he didn’t find a way to make it all work. It takes time to return normal, but now you’ll get to spend the weekends waking up to the sound of tiny feet belonging to the miniature spitfire version of Katsuki.

Maybe you will find a way.

Shouto doesn’t think. At least, not very often. To give him some credit, as he’s aged, he’s gotten better at determining the consequences of his actions before he makes important decisions, but that went out the window this time.

It’s why you choke on your sip of water, head jerking in surprise when Shouto chimes in next to you that he’ll take the underground mission his agency is offering to him without consulting you at all. You had a nasty gut feeling when they mentioned something about the remnants of the league of villains but you trusted Shouto to be smart about it.

It’s been years since the war, Touya is gone, but Shouto still is unable to shake off hunting down even a hint of evidence related to the league. It haunts him, and you’re certain it’s because he can’t bear to lose the last piece of something tangible related to his brother, and your agency knows that. Manipulative motherfuckers.

You decidedly keep your mouth shut until you’re alone before turning to your husband with one singular arched eyebrow.

Shouto sighs, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I know what you’re going to say.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Just promise me you’ll be back in time.” You cross your arms over your chest, staring at him with a pinched expression. He tilts his head to study your apprehensive features, the corners of his mouth tilting slightly downwards.

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you alone, you know that.”

You stare at him for a beat longer before averting your gaze. You very much want to believe him, but these kinds of missions are chaotic on their best days.

Turns out you were right to be on edge about it. Shouto does in fact, not, make it home in time to be there with you on the anniversary of your brother’s death. You’re aware it’s not, technically, it’s not his fault. But he is partially to blame. It was cutting it close with the timeline of the anniversary and the mission. Shouto knew that, and still went.

If anyone would understand the grief and sorrow of losing a brother, it’s Shouto. It’s one of the things that brought you together in the first place.

When you wake up alone the morning of the anniversary there’s a tidal wave of heartache so violent sitting on your chest that you can’t stomach leaving your bed. Watching a movie doesn’t help, reading doesn’t help, taking a shower doesn’t. fucking. help. Your mind wonders a one track pathway to memories of your beloved brother. You can’t get him out of your head. Always, always, always his ghost haunts you.

Usually it’s not so hard to shoulder the grief when Shouto is there. He helps you reminisce and shed a warm light onto the otherwise cloudy day. Now you’re alone. It gets to a point that you have to lay any photo involving your brother face down because you may go crazy if you keep staring at them.

When you check your phone it’s empty. No messages, not even a phone call from your husband. Shouto really did abandon you, and you try desperately not to be upset but your heart cracks in half anyways.

You spend the remainder of the day curled up under your blanket, knees tucked to your chest. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and soak your pillow until you’re sure you’ve cried out the entirety of the water in your body.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you peel open your swollen eyes it’s to a significantly warm arm snaking around your waist and pulling you in so tightly to a solid chest that you struggle to breathe.

“Forgive me, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you.” Shouto’s voice is soft and cracks slightly when he speaks, the sensation of his warm breath tickles the back of your neck. You’re too drained to care about being angry with him right now, flipping over to bury your face in his chest and squeeze him back as the lump in your throat becomes too large to swallow around.

The throbbing ache in your chest dulls considerably now that Shouto is home. You stay like that for what seems like hours, and when something like Shouto’s silent tears trickle onto your head, you say nothing and hug him once more.

He may have missed part of the day, but he’ll be there for you in the end. He’ll always find a way.

[endless-ineffabilities]

this world was never meant for a fire like yours

part three.one - lovers adrift

Daemon Targaryen x modern-f!reader / nurse!reader

word count: 5.6k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

series synopsis: After a fatal injury on the battefield, Daemon wakes up in a foreign land - our world (where GoT / HoTD does not exist). He meets the reader, a nurse who tends to him and helps him navigate everything. They grow close, and slowly, but unequivocally, fall in love.

themes/warnings: separation, Daemon in his New Moon Bella Swan era, reader in full/overly hectic nurse mode, Viserys losing (even more) hair because of Daemon, Daemon is severely whipped, language

August 2023 / the 8th Moon, 113 AC

A flash of bright red passes by, your peripheral vision drawn to it as if on instinct. You don’t look back as you turn a corner, not wanting to see if it is a similar vehicle.

If it is, then that’s just fucking cruel. As if the universe itself is mocking you.

Because no matter how much you deny it, every single thing reminds you of him. 

Cars. Broken laptops. Your worn-out couch. Old movies. Pizza. Burnt food in your kitchen. Helicopters. The dog-eared paperbacks on your shelf. 

Damn him. Damn him to his ridiculous seven hells.

It has been weeks since Daemon Targaryen disappeared from your life, as easily and as abruptly as he had entered it.

Without a trace, as if you plucked him from your imagination. Except he did leave a mark so indelible it cannot be denied. He left his mark alright, in the form of constant sleepless nights. In how you space out each time his memory hits you. In how nothing in your little apartment seems to be yours anymore. Every corner, every inch of the space screams his name. He has made your world his own. He had claimed your heart… and then left. And now you’re here to pick up the pieces.

You remember the torture reflected in his face, the rage, when his brother came to take him away. You knew how badly he wanted to go home, so you made his choice for him.

You told him to leave. 

Stupid girl. You want to go back to that very moment, and tell yourself to make him stay. You know you should have held him in your arms, keeping him rooted in place. In this world, with you. 

But you opted for selflessness. You chose to have your heart broken, so that Daemon can go home. You know that he would have stayed if you only asked.

Fuck, I should have asked.

______________________

The Rogue Prince has been unpleasant and volatile ever since he returned from that strange other world. He has been made welcome, feted and tended to, day and night. Everyone was initially glad to have their Targaryen prince again. Until they realized how much he had changed.

Daemon quickly went back to his roguish ways, but it seems as if these tendencies increased tenfold. Something was severely wrong with the Rogue prince. Something other than his usual myriad of dangerous flaws. Only a handful knew of his predicament, of his loss.

When the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, chooses to make some remark about how you were just some woman, and an unknowable outsider at that, someone who might never fit in the Seven Kingdoms, Daemon says nothing at first. 

For an entire minute, he sits at the council table, his mind stirring. 

Some of the small council members think the conundrum solved. Their prince must have finally realized that what he wants - who he wants - is an impossibility. But the more discerning of them, those more familiar with Daemon, know otherwise. 

Lord Corlys could have all but predicted what came next, after a grievous line from Ser Otto that goes, “Perhaps we should finally arrange for a union between the Prince and one of the Ladies of the Kingdom. Lord Baratheon’s eldest daughter might be - ” Of course, he does not get to finish imparting this idea, as Daemon rises in a flash, Dark Sister drawn across the table and directed to Ser Otto’s sternum. 

The Kingsguard springs into action. Any harm conducted during the small council meeting, could of course also extend to their King. 

“Daemon!” Viserys growls, his patience having run out. 

The prince simply warns, “I will not have this snivelling sycophant make decisions about who and when I am to wed. And I will not hear any more slander about the woman whom I love, do I make myself clear?”

Ser Otto merely stands his guard, hands half raised by his sides as a gesture to the Kingsguard to not make any sudden attempts to remove the prince from the room, lest he should suffer any grievous harm to his person as a result.

“Daemon,” Viserys implores again, “Ser Otto was merely making a suggestion. What else is the small council for if not to freely discuss matters of import for ourselves and for the Seven Kingdoms? You are their prince, after all. Whom you wed will be most crucial, indeed.”

Daemon begins to relent. Slowly lowering Dark Sister, a sly smirk materializes on his lips, as if to show just how little this perceived threat to Ser Otto means to him. It isn't even enough to warrant an apology. 

Daemon seats himself once more, appearing to look unfazed as he inspects the calluses on his hands. “There is only one reason as to why I even deigned to participate in today’s council meeting. I wish to know if we have finally received word back from those bloody witches who had me returned… the ones who can apparently travel through our realm and the other.”

Viserys sighs, knowing his brother is not there for anything else. Not for his duties. Not for the realm. But for you. “Nothing yet, Daemon. But we are trying-”

He stands abruptly, without any mind to formalities. “Then it appears there is no reason for my presence here.” 

In a moment, before any plea could be spoken, the Prince was gone from the council chambers.

Lord Beesbury, confused, addresses the table, “Was the Prince not meant to report on the recent dealings of his Gold Cloaks with-”

“Oh, what does it matter, my Lord?” Ser Tyland interjects, with a scornful whip of his hair. “Prince Daemon wouldn’t be aware of all the goings on in the Red Keep, seeing as he’s either holed up in his chambers or too busy hunting down those shameless heretics who can miraculously send him back to-”

“Ser Tyland,” Viserys commands, his voice clear for once. “I shall ask that you leave that matter alone. Unless you can be of any help, which I highly fucking doubt.”

A hush falls over the small council. Their King has never been prone to swear freely like a drunken Lyseni, unlike his younger brother. 

“Perhaps,” Ser Otto says, “we should convene this council meeting for another day, my King.”

Viserys merely huffs in response. “Very well.”

As he departs the room with the Kingsguard, he wonders if things will ever be even just an infinitesimal amount of simple when it concerns his brother.

His conclusion comes swiftly - no, it never will be.

______________________

You lower your clipboard on the nurses station, leaning against it in exhaustion.

“Ms. Carlson is stable now, thankfully.” You address Dessa, an older colleague who has been newly stationed at the desk. “We just need to monitor her blood pressure from time to time.”

“Sure thing.” Dessa gives you a once over, clearly not approving your current state. “But sweetheart, why don’t you go home and get some rest? You’ve been taking way too many extra shifts just out of the blue like this, and you have to give yourself a break.”

Taking a deep breath, you roll out the tension in your neck and shoulders. The bright wash of hospital lighting makes you feel slightly nauseous, so you shut your eyes tight. Briefly. 

But not brief enough. In the recesses of your mind, in your memories, you can almost feel him. Hear him.

Leaving this world for but a moment, and gently slipping from consciousness, is enough to make you remember. 

And you remember everything.

‘My love. Come lie with me,’ he would say. 

Your mind reels from exhaustion, and from the perpetual echo of his voice. Leave me alone.

Come back, is what you meant. It’s what you’ll always mean. But his desire to return to his Westeros, to his Seven Kingdoms, was too strong for you to ignore. He swore he wanted to stay with you, so you had to make the choice for him.

This measly world was never meant for Daemon, whose fire can set everything ablaze. And there surely were plenty of times when he almost let his rage and his usual ways get the better of him, if it weren’t for you. His anchor.

You know that he would be too much to bear, and this world would try to quell him. 

It was the right decision. So why did you have to feel so wretched about it?

Because you love him, you big idiot.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, opening your eyes.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dessa’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, the expletive taking her aback. Poor girl just expressed concern, and here I am over her desk, eyes glazed over like a zombie.

“Oh, it’s just… you’re right, I do need some rest. My shift ends in an hour and I plan to sleep for the next 24 hours. At least.” That isn’t the truth, but you don’t feel it necessary to deepen her concern. You could be upfront and admit that you find it hard to fall into slumber, because almost every time, without fail, Daemon is there to welcome you.

His voice. His touch. His burning gaze. Your dreams could be there to offer a sense of comfort, a safe haven that can temporarily ease you out of heartbreak, but all you can feel is a painful loss. 

You don’t think it right to lose yourself in what was, or what could have been. Where would be the point in that? It isn’t as if this is a typical long-distance relationship, and Daemon simply went off to live in another city. 

No. The damn bastard had to go off to an actual other dimension, didn’t he?

How can anyone expect any less from someone like Daemon?

Dessa relaxes, and sighs audibly. “That’s good. Go do that, hon. If you want, I can cover for your next rounds, whenever that’ll be. You’ve been taking up all the extra shifts around here as it is.”

“Thank you, Dessa,” you say genuinely. “I think I’ll go check on 517 one last time before I go.”

You start to push yourself off of the counter and get your bearings, but Dessa reaches out for your hand, keeping you in place for a moment longer.

She smiles, and you can’t help but notice something lingering underneath her expression of comfort. As if she knows. 

“It’s going to be alright, y/n,” she says, and the sentiment quickly takes root in you, a sense of warmth wrapping around you like a warm hug. Too soon though, she lets go, and you are snapped back into reality. 

Until she adds, still smiling, “Those we love tend to find their way back to us, ñuha riña, if that is truly what is meant to be.”

Everything stops. It feels as if ice has infiltrated your veins, like some sudden shock. That sounds like…

“What… what did you call me?” you croak.

She merely tilts her head, her smile dropping only slightly, taking on a new emotion. Something like pity. Does she know?

“I don’t know what you mean. I merely gave you a piece of advice, my child.”

You slowly look around, trying to shake some sense back into yourself. Shaking your head, you say, “Right, I must have misheard things. It’s just… I thought I heard you speak…” High Valyrian. His native tongue. 

“Speak what?” She asks, a hint of confusion visible on her face.

“Nothing,” you shake your head quickly, stepping away from the nurses’ station. “Thanks for the advice, Dessa. I’m just… a little out of the loop is all. I’m definitely going to rest after this. I’ll go do some final rounds, and check back with you in 5 minutes?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiles again, and you think of how welcoming the sight is. How genuine. Dessa has this seemingly maternal quality to her, and you feel grateful to be at the receiving end of it. 

You mirror her smile, before finally turning and sauntering towards the rooms.

______________________

When you finally reach your apartment, you have to drag yourself up the flight of steps, your legs feeling like jell-o underneath you.

Dessa is absolutely right. All those extra shifts are taking their toll. In your defense, you believe them to be necessary. Your own messed-up version of therapy. Cooping yourself up in your flat would be torture, when Daemon has left his mark on every inch of the space.

The kitchen where he kept trying to make dishes, only for them to end up charred at the bottom of your trusty IKEA pot. The couch where you spent most nights, curled up in each other’s arms, boxes of takeaway shared between the two of you.

You would dramatically relay your worries about your patients in the ICU, and he would muse about the “peculiar sort of idiots” he had to deal with at the auto shop. By that, he meant irate customers and even women who took a liking to him. So much so that they would deliberately lose small parts of their car engines, only to specifically request Daemon’s assistance. 

He would pull you onto his lap and cage you in his arms, smirking at the poorly masked envy in your expression. Soon after, your worries would dissipate in a haze, his lips snaking smoothly all over your skin.

I’m clearly upset now. Where’s my comforting embrace, huh?

Sullen, you make your way to the kitchen. Upon quick inspection of the fridge, it becomes evident that you desperately need to make a grocery run.

“I’m officially a peasant. No wonder the great Prince of Westeros didn’t want to stay with me.” You rack your brain for other alternatives, taking note to push away the thought of what Daemon would suggest. Freshly made pizza, with all his preferred trappings - spicy salami, heaps of cheese, nduja, and basil. Conveniently delivered straight to your door in a jiff. 

No. Definitely not that. 

The thought of Daemon not having access to such a glorious thing as pizza anymore made you spiteful. Take that. That’s what you get for leaving. 

You drag yourself onto the couch, slumping atop the worn out cushions. Silly girl. Do you think he would care? That world has everything he could ever wish for. 

The sound of knocking on the door pulls you out of your thoughts. Thankfully. Two sure raps on the wood to pull you out of your misery, for who knows how long.

“Hi.” Tom stands on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face. “Care for some company?”

This would be the fourth time since Daemon’s departure that he’s shown up at your door, out of the blue, simply asking to spend time with you. And this would also be the fourth time that you acquiesce, and let him in. 

Any and all distractions are welcome. Even in the form of your neighbour, with his puppy-dog eyes and suggestive remarks that clearly indicate that he still has not gotten over you. Despite being rudely confronted with the reality of you and Daemon, many months ago. 

But the reality is… there is no more you and Daemon, is there? Once Tom grew aware of that, his eagerness returned twofold. 

You did not show the same interest. Not in that way, at least. You made sure of that by saying “I’m glad we’re friends again.” when he first came over. Friends. Only that.

Still, there was some part of you that felt as if you were leading Tom on. By letting him in again, being his friend, you were giving him hope that it could turn into something more. Especially now that you badly needed a shoulder to lean on. 

Before you could let guilt rip through you, you force a smile up at him. “Sure, come in.”

I might pay for this later. 

For now, his carefree laugh and animated talk of everything that’s going on in this world might just help piece together the remains of your heart. 

______________________

*flashback* March 2023 / the 3rd Moon, 113 AC 

It was no easy feat to summon a priestess of the old gods to King’s Landing, but when Prince Daemon disappeared, his brother the King Viserys spared no effort in seeing his brother safely returned. 

Every sept of every religion was consulted. The Maesters of the Citadel. What remains of the water-wizards in Dorne. The magisters of the Free Cities. 

Many of the common folk surmised that perhaps, the volatile Prince Daemon simply took off without any word of warning.

However, that supposition may be easily debated with the fact of Caraxes’ presence on Dragonstone. Daemon would not have left Caraxes behind. If anything, he would have almost certainly ridden on dragonback to wherever he planned to go.

It further complicated matters when some of the soldiers present on the battlefield wherein Daemon was last seen profusely swear that their Prince simply vanished into thin air. 

The Maester were quick to dissuade their King of supposed foolhardy lies. One does not simply vanish. It is unheard of, a mere calumny. Their advice had been near unanimous - the Prince left, or was in hiding. Likely he did not wish to be found, which is why he left his dragon behind, the creature inevitably drawing attention wherever it goes. 

Just when the commotion around his disappearance had somewhat dissipated, a triad of self-proclaimed members of an outer sect, an adjunct to the priestesses of the old gods, made themselves known in the Red Keep. Accompanied by the elder priestess, they asked for an audience with the King, who eagerly welcomed them. His council members, on the other hand, were wrought with suspicion.

The women, three close-knit sisters, introduced themselves as Treesa, Verness, and Dessa.

They claimed to be part of a covert sect that sprung from the Old religion. One that remains largely unknown in Westeros, which warranted the suspicion of the small council. 

“Realmwalkers.” Verness declared in a proud tone. “That is what we call ourselves, borne out of the fact that we can jump from this realm, my King, to another strange yet equally fascinating one. The very same realm that Prince Daemon finds himself trapped in.”

“Trapped? And in another realm, you say?” Viserys’ fury was rising to the surface. “I charge you to speak plainly, and do not offer me such calumnies. Where is my brother?”

Treesa smiled wryly, unperturbed by the King’s growing wrath. “He’s been sent to the realm of Korzion. The realm of steel, if you please. Largely inhibited by men. Like us, but not quite. They’re somewhat more… connected to these… these machines.” There was a faraway look in her eyes, rendering her expression almost vacant. Her gaze met that of the King’s, but it appeared as though she did not really see him. Her mind was elsewhere, her skirts moving alongside her gently swaying figure. 

Upon hearing this, Otto Hightower leaned in to whisper to the King, “These so-called priestesses must only be devising some trickery, my King. Perhaps we should adjourn-”

Dessa interjected, “We can prove it to you, King Viserys. We are the only ones who can ensure that your brother is safely returned to this realm. Whether you trust us or not, that does not alter this truth.”

Viserys stiffened, a decision forming in his mind. Ignoring the look of reproach from his Hand, he took a deep breath and responded, “Tell me everything.”

______________________

September 2023 / the 9th Moon, 113 AC

“It took you a long while to allow yourselves to be found again.” Daemon’s voice, while low and controlled, maintains an underlying impatience. As if he could not be bothered, and is only going through everything for the hope of seeing you again. Sitting casually, partially covered by the shadows, he briefly thinks of how you would definitely make a remark of how much he resembles a ‘Bond villain’ from those movies you love. 

You once ran your fingers repeatedly over his hair, mussing it completely, after a couple of glasses of wine white. Daemon sat there, half in surprise and half in adoration. “Mystery man,” you slurred, smiling sleepily, “you’re someone straight out of a book, or a movie, or… or… my dreams.” Your eyes widened at that, at the incredulity of it all.

“You’ve dreamt about me, have you?” He cheekily responded. This was quite some time before the two of you finally dropped all the pretence and acted on your desires. Before the two of you allowed yourselves to fall completely in love.

“Mmm,” you giggled, “Strange how I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”

Daemon, for all his brazenness and devil-may-care behaviour, found himself feeling disheartened at your words. Bad boy, you said. But that had a different, softer meaning for you. You were not aware how bad, how malevolent, he actually is. You did not know how he had dismembered enemies in battle, in his blind rage. You did not know how he had selfishly manipulated and lied his way purely to get what he wanted. You did not know that he would kill anyone who tried to hurt you, without reservation, in a heartbeat. 

He thought of how you were too good for him. Sitting there, after hours upon hours of your daily work as a healer, still managing to offer him a meal and spend time with him after near exhaustion, your smile was still whole and true and good. And it was being directed at him. The strange, angry man who infiltrated your little world and did not seem to want to leave. 

He thought, determinedly, that he did not deserve any of it. He did not deserve you.

Treesa’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. “I think I’ve lost you, my prince. You are no longer in this world, as you were.” Sitting across from him in his chambers, she has half a mind to become irate at how Prince Daemon is regarding her as if she is nothing more than the mud on the sole of his princely boots. A mere inconvenience. But her annoyance is restrained by her understanding of how he must be feeling. 

He regains himself, ignoring her remark, and continues, “Where are the others?” Then he flippantly waves his hand. “Never mind that. You said you will help me. Then can you transport me back to her world? Or her to mine? How soon can this be done?”

Treesa smiles slyly, “So many questions. How powerless you must feel against the tides of fate. What if your story has already been determined by the gods? That you meet your love, stay together briefly, only so that she may change you forever?”

“Careful now, witch.”

“Realmwalker.” 

“Whatever you call yourselves. Make no mistake, I am not asking for your help. I demand it, as your prince.”

Treesa just laughs, the shrill sound as light as air. “Do not take us so lightly, Rogue Prince. The one you claim to love is also one of us.”

“What?” 

“Your love from Korzion? Oh yes. She is a Realmwalker too.”

“Impossible.” Daemon says, shaking his head, but he is already running through his memories of you. Was there something that he might have missed? Were there any telltale signs? Had you deceived him?

“It’s the truth.” Treesa shrugs. “Only she does not know it yet. My elder sister, Dessa, is currently in her world and she is going to make herself known to y/n very soon, as who she truly is. Then Dessa may also let her know who she truly is.”

“But she…,” For the first time since he was tongue-tied around your presence, Daemon struggles to find the right words. “She is not from Westeros, is she?”

“No,” Treesa explains, “but she is a descendant of a woman who was. A Realmwalker of old, who chose to live her life in Korzion.”

“Well then,” Daemon stands, as if prepared to jump through a portal that very moment, “if she is of this world, then she can surely come here, can she not? There is nothing that can hinder this. You claim she is a Realmwalker like you. Bring her to me. Or… bring me to her. You’ve done it before.”

“It was Dessa who transported you to Korzion, my prince. And, it is no easy feat to bring another non-walker to Korzion. It can take a heavy toll on any of us. Much was needed to be orchestrated for the King to momentarily travel realms just to coax you back with him.”

Daemon merely petulantly tilts his head, and clenches his jaw, as if to say, ‘how does that help me?’.

“Sit down, my prince,” Treesa sighs. “You’ll know of everything soon enough.”

______________________

The very first Realmwalker or Vyzh-agon was a priestess of the old Religion.

Aesdella, believed to be originally from Old Valyria, and eventually settling in the North of Westeros, was the very first to travel to the realm of Korzion. Our realm. It remains unclear when she was born and when she perished, but she lived well before Aegon’s Conquest. Another source of speculation is how her abilities came to be, but from her bloodline came those with similar abilities. And so forth. Until this very day. 

Only Aesdella’s female descendants inherited this very nature of being a Realmwalker. This power can remain dormant, hidden under the surface, or it can be practiced and essentially turned into a way of living. Such as with the sect of Treesa, Verness, and Dessa, as well as their other sisters and cousins. 

She was believed to be a formidable woman, garnering respect from even those of other religions, and other lands. Though she made sure that her abilities would not be known by others, seeing as she did not trust the nature of men.  These powers, if in the wrong hands, could bring strife to both Korzion and her realm. It has been said that this is why she made sure that only her daughters and their daughters after them would receive her power, but this is mere conjecture.

There are many peculiarities which concern travelling between realms. The Realmwalker would have to envision her precise destination, lest she should accidentally end up in the middle of some remote part of Amazonia. She would require some tools, if she was not necessarily raised in the practice of realm walking. She would need to prick her fingers or her palm with a sharp sliver of moonstone, let her blood meet the raches of a raven’s feather, and recite a chant in High Valyrian. This is enough to awaken the power passed down to her through Aesdella’s bloodline. The feather will turn to ash in her hands, and swirl around her form, multiplying a thousand fold, and in a moment, this daughter of Aesdella will have travelled realms.

Those with immense power resting inside them, would eventually not need the moonstone, nor the raven’s feather, after a while. The chanting matched with pure will is enough. 

A Realmwalker may also transport another to Korzion, and vice versa, but this can exact a heavy toll on both parties if done incorrectly. Which is why Viserys’ jump to Korzion could not be done in a haste, and also why Dessa was rendered unconscious for an entire moon’s turn after having to quickly transport Daemon to Korzion following his fatal injury.

“Dessa saved you by transporting you to Korzion, as realm travel can sometimes have regenerative effects on one’s person. Luckily, your jump proved to be so.” Treesa reveals, the dancing firelight casting shadows on her angular face. “She did this because, and I am certain that you do not remember at all, but you once saved her son’s life, Prince Daemon.”

“You will have to be more particular, as I cannot recall every-”

“Like I said, you do not remember and it does not matter. What matters is that he is alive and well. Dessa is estranged from this son of hers, but will never cease to care for him. It’s a mother’s curse.” Treesa shakes her head in disapproval. Daemon feels inclined to think that she has no children of her own. “You saved her son in battle many moons ago, and so Dessa found a spell that ensured you had blood moonstone on your person, wherever you went. This is one way we can maintain a connection to someone, keep an eye out for them. When she sensed you had been grievously harmed, she immediately triggered the moonstone with a spell that would cause you to walk between realms.”

Daemon listens, not because he is especially intrigued by the entire story. He simply sits, waiting for Treesa to speak about you. Who you truly are, and how this expanse between the both of you can be eliminated.

“Did you know, it was by accident… well, somehow at least… that y/n was in the vicinity after you arrived in Korzion?” Treesa laughs dryly. “Realmwalkers can send another  individual such as yourself to Korzion so long as there is a beacon there for you to go to. Another Realmwalker, you see. Dessa meant to send you close to Verness who had been visiting with her… Korzioni lover.” Distaste flashes again across Treesa's face, which goes to show that she does not share the same affinity for having lovers, much less children with such lovers, unlike her sisters.

Daemon turns and meets her gaze straight on. “And yet, I was sent to… close to…”

“Yes.” Tressa nods. “To y/n. Dessa did not know she existed until then. Her great-grandmother was one of us, yes. When she disappeared ages ago, it was believed that she chose to spend the rest of her days in Korzion. Little was known of whether she fell in love, or whether she eventually had Korzioni children. Daughters that would also carry her ability. But apparently, she has.”

A scoff of disbelief and amazement escapes Daemon’s lips.

“Now, my Rogue prince,” Treesa leans forward on her elbows, the tone having shifted to something much lighter. “Now do you believe in fate?”

______________________

In Korzion, you sit once again on your couch after another long shift at the hospital. Only this time… and perhaps it has grown out of being a rarity at this point… Tom sits beside you, comfortably slouched a mere few inches away.

You lean away from him, opting to stick close to the armrest, hoping he would take this little hint. But he’s chosen to ignore it, ambling closer to you the first chance he got. 

Your laptop is in the low table in front of you, a new flick playing on the screen. Some new Netflix production that Tom chose, which you weren’t so keen on. But what did it matter?

Company is company. A distraction is a distraction. You probably should head straight to sleep, but you didn’t want to risk having yet another dream of Daemon. Another dream that will end abruptly and wrench you back into this grim reality. 

Remnants of takeout sushi containers are scattered on the kitchen counter. When Tom suggested pizza, you were quick to protest. Daemon loved pizza, and he loathed sushi. So, why not have sushi on this fine evening?

“So when will you get to reading it?” Tom asks, referring to the book he lent you. He initially wanted to give it to you as a gift, but you said you didn’t want a gift if there was no occasion. When he responded with, “I don’t need some special occasion to give a gift to a beautiful girl I care about,” you struggled so very hard to maintain a straight face and not roll your eyes. 

Daemon would hate this. If he still cared.

“I guess I’ll start tonight.” You lie, picking the book from your lap, pretending to peruse the back cover. “Seems like quite the read. I don’t think it will be like any of the other books I’ve read.” Of course it won’t. Because I would never purchase this myself.

“That’s great! You’ll love it, it’s a New York Times bestseller. I found it on BookTok.” He says, as if to reassure you, though it doesn’t really do the job.

You sense his arm snaking behind you on the seat, and before you can make some excuse about having to get some water, an unexpected knock echoes from the front door. 

Thank you. Whoever you are.

You rush toward it, finding Dessa on the other side.

“Nuha riña,” she says, a wide smile on her face. “It’s time.”

She said it again. I knew it.  “What the fu-”

She looks over your shoulder, noticing Tom standing close behind, as if in protection. “What about Daemon?” She asks sincerely.

Daemon? You feel your heartbeat falter, taken aback by someone else saying his name out loud. 

“H-how? You never met him. He was gone before you even came to work at…” you pause, choosing your next words carefully. “Who are you?”

She takes your hands in hers, a firm yet gentle hold. 

“The question, my dear, is who are you?”

end of lovers adrift 

______________________

*preview* of part 3.2 - lovers ablaze

October 2023 / the 10th Moon, 113 AC

“This is real?” Your senses are overwhelmed, and you feel somewhat floaty, as if you’re nowhere at all. Perhaps, you are nowhere, not in your realm and not in Daemon’s, but somewhere in the middle. “Am I doing this? Is it working?”

Daemon, who was frozen at the sight of you,  immediately strides forward. Desperate to feel you, his hands hold onto whatever he can. Your face, your hips, your hands. “My darling, all of this is fucking astonishing, and we can certainly marvel at what you can do to no end, but quite frankly, right this moment I could hardly bring myself to care.”

He smashes his lips to yours. They move relentlessly, as if on their own accord, their master groaning like a starved beast. You feel him, or you think you do, his familiar scent engulfing you, and he feels like home. You feel his silver hair sliding between your fingertips, his sharp teeth gnawing gently at your lips, his fingernails digging into your backside and melding your torso onto his.

Daemon is not one to waste time, that’s for sure.

“I miss you,” you breathe, as he kisses down the hollow of your throat.

“As I do you,  my love.” Daemon purrs, nipping at your collarbone, breathing you in. “You simply have no idea…”

You feel him, but only just… and it’s not enough. But it’ll have to do.

“Daemon… this is…” You try to voice out your concern, despite the moment. Dessa was right, your corporeal forms cannot meet through your projection; the two of you stand in your bedroom, but everything seems to be enveloped in a thick fog. If you press hard enough, you think your fingers will simply pass through Daemon as if he were a spectre. You realize that he knows this, too, but chooses to ignore it. 

“This is the closest we’ve been in far too fucking long, my love. It would have been sooner if those cunts made greater effort to-”

You snort, confronted once more with how brash he can be. “Daemon, those cunts? Really? I am one of them, you know. Besides, it’s not their fault.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” His lips form a desperate, wanting smile, as he connects his forehead to yours. “Let me have this. Have you. I need you.”

He’s right. In physical form or otherwise, he is still your Daemon. And you have craved each other too much to be denied any kind of reunion.

“Okay.” Your hand reaches up to cradle his face, and he leans into it. He then looks around, appraising your chambers, as he used to say.

“Nothing changed.” He hums, while holding you tightly to him, as if he’s afraid that you might dissolve into air. “What’s this now? Ever the reader, my heart.” He reaches for the crisp, new paperback novel atop your dresser. 

“Oh, that’s… yeah, someone lent it to me.”

“It certainly does not seem too suited to your tastes.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Astute observation. It’s my neighbour’s. He apparently thought I needed something new to read.” When he gave you the book, Tom happily explained how he thought you should, “...expose yourself to other things. Things you possibly haven’t tried out before. New films, books, friends. You know to help you forget all about…”

“Your neighbour - what was he called? Tim?” Daemon’s lips curl in distaste.

“You remember his name, Daemon.” You roll your eyes at your lover, and his poorly-veiled jealousy. You were one and the same.

“You’ve been letting him inside your house?” He inquires, voice dropping an entire octave. If looks could kill…

You nod slowly, carefully. “He’s been visiting every now and then. It’s not a big deal.”

Daemon tilts his head, a sinister look appearing on his face. Smirking, he leans in and whispers, “Has that mongrel taken my place, dearest?”

You swallow thickly, his darkened gaze doing much and more to break your self-control. If he doesn’t stand down… well.

“Has any lady taken mine? In that amazing, grand realm of yours, Prince Daemon?” You respond, rising to his challenge. Your fingers snake in between the low-collar of his white tunic. Only Daemon has ever been able to elicit this out of you.

He enjoys the way you directly meet his eyes, unwavering in your stead. No one ever looked at him in such a way; not one has ever seen him as you do. Daemon has always inspired fear and intimidation in others. Those who find themselves comfortable enough to hold a conversation with the Rogue Prince tend to feel ill at ease or on their guard. As if he might turn on them at any moment. 

People usually mosey up to him because of a favour. Because of his status, his reputation. Because they want something out of him. 

But not you. No. Daemon knows that he has only ever inspired love in you.

Well, that and what might have been absolute surprise followed by wariness, when he was suddenly sprung into your world, injured and in a coat of full armour.

He kisses you passionately in response. Once, then pulling away only to breathe, and again, and again.

“No one can ever replace you.” He swears. He has never been a devout man, but in that moment, he curses all the gods that you two are apart. Meeting in this middle-realm is insufficient. He feels you, somehow. But he does not feel your warmth, nor the goosebumps on your skin from his touch. You are there, but you are not. 

But it will have to do. For now.

“Is this ailing you? Sustaining a connection like this, in this place?” Daemon asks.

“Not really,” you admit. “Dessa says I’ll feel quite exhausted afterward, but it shouldn’t take too big of a toll on me. I’m learning the ropes, and there’s a lot to learn. I mean… this is fucking insane.”

“And here you thought me extraordinary. When it was you all along.”

“Hardly.” you smile in return. If you could feel warmth right now, you would certainly feel it blooming across your face. “I’m not the only one, it seems. And, my great-grandmother… she was from your world.” Your smile stretches twofold in awe. 

He brushes a stray strand from your face.

“The Rogue Prince and his Realmwalker. We have always been meant to find each other.”

series taglist: @omgsuperstarg @sebastian025 @iilsenewman @padfootsvixen @teapartydreams @lucytheripper @kindaslightlyacidic @naelys-the-aster @zoleea-exultant @vainillasmil157 @llovinjoonie @outundertheocean @grimistangel @ladespedidas @nanabarnes @pineappleandro @luckythirtxn97 @knockemdeadgirl @stella-cadante @milber32 @canvashearts @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @kryzeria @selahstars @captainweirdo42 @nitimurinvetitumsposts @aemondmyl0ve @eternallyvenus @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince @moonmaiden1996 @mukduk-not-murder @partypoison00 @cookielovesbook-akie @borikenlove @avadakadabra93 @luloveseddie @katsav17 @avadakadabra93

Here we are - it's been a LONG time coming.

Grateful to all of yous for struggling through this wait. I know how much of a pain it is when a fic I'm reading just can't get updated soon enough. You guys deserve Daemon Targaryen at his very best 🖤

Oh and fire like yours isn't losing the somewhat lighthearted tone it might have had. The next part is when mayhem ensues, involving denim, vintage leather jackets, pizza!!!, etc. in Westeros. I just had to get through all this explaining as to how Daemon somehow ended up in our world (Korzion).

Maroon part three up next!

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Then There Was You ❤️

Summary; Eddie's ex left him heartbroken and you were there to pick up the pieces.

Eddie should be happy that Jessie is back but there's you, you who put the pieces of his broken heart back together, who made him smile on his worst days.

(This is just a lil fic to get me back into the swing of writing)

Warnings; Angst, heartache, fluff, minors dni

Likes or reblogs are much appreciated ❤️

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️❤️

Eddie is smiling as you wake up, his fingers gently caressing your hair as you curl into his chest.

Mornings have been like this for a while, lazy and full of sleepy kisses, affection and the urge to do nothing but lay with each other, limbs entwined as the sun rises.

It's bad though... Bad because you can't risk falling even more for Eddie than you already have.

This was just meant to be sex between the two of you, meaningless, mindblowing sex to take Eddie's mind off his heartache from his ex leaving him.

Jessie had broken Eddie's heart two months ago by calling him a loser, good for nothing and driving away with Josh Harris in tow.

"He's actually making something of his life Munson, not working in a shitty garage and being a total loser"

In truth you had never liked Jessie at any point of the almost nine months she had been dating Eddie, she was stone cold but Eddie was too lovesick to see it.

Until it was too late. Then he came to yours a few nights after you left and you both got a little bit drunk and slept together.

It was the best sex you'd ever had and before both of you knew it the two of you were meeting up every chance you could.

Most of the night was about sex but there was lots of talking too, Eddie opening up to you and you to him, a lot of laughter shared and good times.

Two months down the line and pesky feelings had took root, you were hopelessly in love with Eddie.

There was this nagging feeling though that at some point Jessie would swan right back into Eddie's life, begging for forgiveness.

As for as you knew Eddie still loved her though you were too scared to ask and hear the answer for real.

"Hey, sleepyhead. How's my girl?" my girl him saying that makes you giddy even though you tell yourself not to get your hopes too high that he feels the same.

"Hmm, too early. Need kisses" he grins and dips down to kiss you.

"With fucking pleasure milady" you giggle as his stubble tickles your neck, he stops kissing you for a second and stares at you, his expression sweet, full of tenderness.

"You're so beautiful" he sighs and those three words make your heart beat like crazy.

"Right back atcha handsome" his cheeks turn pink and he hides his face in your hair, it's so cute and the morning only gets sweeter as you stay in bed kissing and cuddling.

It's a beautiful morning, you and Eddie in your own little bubble. You should have known it wouldn't last...

❤️

"Eddie, the pasta will get cold" you giggle as he kisses you, one hand caressing your face while the other sneakily grabs your ass.

"Wanna keep kissing you princess" he pouts and you giggle leaving closer to him as your lips capture his and he sighs in contentment.

Unfortunately, as you are getting a little hot and heavy there's a knock at the door.

"Bet that is Dustin, you know he loves your pasta dinners" you grin at Eddie and rush to open the door.

It's not Dustin, no who it is makes your heart sink.

Jessie is standing outside and smiles at Eddie when she sees him, she rushes over and hugs him and he stands shockas at she kisses his cheek and apologises.

"I'm so sorry honey, what I said was out of line, I never should have left. You're my Eddie bear and I've missed you". The sight of her hugging him makes you go cold, she's back and you know Eddie must be thrilled, angry yes but thrilled she came back to him.

She turns to you.

"Oh it's you" she huffs and Eddie goes to respond but you get there first.

"I should go. Leave you two to talk" Eddie shakes his head.

"Wait, sweetheart, you don't have to go" The option is to stay and witness their reunion which will inevitably turn loved up and you don't think your heart can handle it.

"You both need to talk" you repeat and grab your jacket, hiding your tears until your out the door.

Jessie is back and Eddie will be so happy, the tears fall down quickly and you wipe them away, hurrying to your car and heading home.

❤️

The next night Robin takes you to The Hideout and you're trying your very best to not fall apart, she knows all about Eddie and has spent the last ten minutes glaring at him.

Unbeknownst to you he's spent the last twenty sneaking glances at you and longing looks but Robin is too irate to notice that.

"It's fine Robin, I knew it was a no strings attached gig" she huffs.

"You're heartbroken so it wasn't that for you was it? You get tossed aside because the bitch is back" at this point Eddie walks up to you and Robin looks set to cuss him out so you manoeuvre Eddie away from her wrath.

"Hey," he runs his hand through his hair.

"I didn't expect her to come back," he tells you honestly and you know that's true but it's always been an eventuality that you knew could happen, that you dreaded.

"I bet you're happy though, deep down. Sure she apologised and stuff" he sighs.

"She did, wanted to pick things up where they left off. I... I slept on the couch and have had barely any sleep, just a lot of shit rattling in my mind"

Eddie looks pained at that moment, reaching out to you but looking so unsure of what to say so you decide to just cut to the chase.

"Look, It's okay, I always knew she would come back Eddie, this was just fun right?" you try to portray that you're aloof and that your heart isn't breaking but the emotions threaten to spill over.

"Right..." Eddie murmurs and you smile, it feels so fake and you wonder if he can see right through it but Jessie is soon beside Eddie and it hurts your already sore heart.

"Eddie, your friend is here again" she sounds so unenthused and you would love nothing more than to tell her a few home truths but you can't get the words out.

"I'll see you around Munson" You smile weakly and he swallows, big brown eyes gazing at you, full of many emotions, something you can't place.

"See you around? Maybe tomorrow we could... You cut him off as Jessie glares at him, hanging off his arm like a limpet.

"I'll probably be busy for a little while, work is hectic so maybe in a couple of weeks or something?"

"Weeks" he mumbles and you think you hear pain in his voice but dismiss it. You were just a fuck buddy nothing more, you were just getting your hopes up for nothing.

"Goodbye Eddie," you tell him and gently kiss his cheek. You feel his eyes on you as you go and resist every urge to look back at him.

Once you're gone Eddie feels a hollowness in his chest, like someone carved out his heart and stomped on it.

Jessie is fluttering around him and he stares at her feeling fury build inside of him.

"Why are you here?" she stops talking at that moment and looks at him stunned.

"Excuse me?" she demands.

"Why are you here? You swan back into my life like you didn't decide the grass was greener on fucking Josh Harris's side, like you didn't call me a loser and shit. Make me feel like nothing"

She looks lost for words, mouthing wordlessly.

"It was a mistake" he snorts.

"After two months you realise it was a mistake? What shit didn't work out with Josh so Eddie is a good ol back up huh?" her guilty expression gives it away.

"Unbelievable. I'm right aren't I?" she bites her lip.

"Come on Eddie. I apologised, I still love you" he shakes his head, no she loves that he was smitten for her, that she thought he would be easily manipulated.

"No, you don't, I loved you once yeah but it doesn't compare even a fraction to what I feel for... His eyes widen and her expression turns thunderous.

"For who? Yn? Are you fucking kidding me?" her anger makes him even more annoyed.

"You have no right to be pissed. You left and she was amazing, fucking amazing, at first it was just casual, just sex between us but I spent more time with her and yeah I fell in love with her, I love her" It's the first time he's said it out loud and it feels so good to let out.

"I love her," he says again and smiles then immediately face palms. Shit! He loved you bit he had no idea how you felt, you said it was just casual but he knows you so well, you were hiding your emotions.

Because you thought he still loved Jessie, he groans and turns to Jessie, her hand is on her hips and she looks pissed.

"I love her. You left and let's face it, we were never a good match anyway were we? We're done, Jessie, for good. Go find some other poor dickhead to make your bitch instead yeah?" he leaves her standing there and is determined to see you.

❤️

The urge to find Jessie and cuss her out for hurting Eddie is strong, however you tamper that down with some ice cream and a cocktail.

Eddie was a big boy, if he wanted to give Jessie another chance then it was up to him, even though it was killing you inside you would just have to deal with it.

Move on... the despair threatens to overwhelm you again so you decide to watch a movie, not a rom com, something spooky and scary, it occurs to you tonight would be movie night for you and Eddie and it sours your mood again.

Robin insisted you tell him how you feel but you didn't see what good that would do. It would just make Eddie more confused than he already was.

Lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rumbles as rain pelts down on the windows outside, and the storm threatening to hit Hawkins had finally begun.

Listening to the rain was calming to you, in fact, you had almost nodded off when the lights began to flicker erratically before going out completely.

You sure hoped you could find some candles stat, just as you were in the process of lighting a bunch of them your doorbell rings.

Probably Robin.

"Robin? Did you forget your keys again?" you open the door and Eddie is standing soaked to the bone, holding a now extinguished candle.

"Uh, the storm is crazy huh?" you pull him inside, filled with worry.

"You'll catch your death out there Eddie. Could have waited until morning to come you know?" he shakes his head.

"This couldn't wait. I had to see you" he shrugs of his jacket and places the candle on the table.

"Where's Jessie?" you ask even know you're not sure if you even want to know.

He shrugs. ''Don't know, don't care princess" his attitude makes you do a double take.

"I don't understand. This is what you wanted for her to come back? You love her?" his attitude was confusing you, why wasn't he happy.

"I did want her to come back. For a little while it's all I wanted. Then it faded and she came back, you think I would be happy but I'm not because it's been a day and I've barely seen you and I'm going crazy"

He strokes your cheek and you lean into him, hope filling your chest.

"All the time with Jessie and I've never felt a fraction for her or any woman the way I feel about you"

His eyes are shining brightly, full of...love.

"Eddie?" he kisses your forehead and you can feel your heart race.

"I don't want Jessie, haven't for a long time. I've fallen in love with you, head over heels in love with you princess"

His lips meet yours, he kisses you deeply, thumb stroking your cheek. "I love you" he repeats and you can't help the tears that fall down your cheeks, happy tears.

"Oh, I love you too Eddie. I've been wanting to say for a while but then Jessie came back and I thought I'd lost my chance" he kisses you again.

"I should have told you sooner sweetheart. Every day waking up to you in my arms is something I love more than anything, I love you"

His forehead rests against yours and he holds you close.

"Kinda spooky outside huh princess? Might need extra cuddles tonight?" you giggle and wrap your arms around him.

You know full well he loves storms and have caught him outside without a care in the world.

"Mmm, I love you, Eddie" he takes your hand leading you to your room where you make love all night long.

❤️❤️

Jessie was long gone within a few days, she announced she was too good for Hawkins and went off with Josh yet again.

Not that you and Eddie noticed, it was Robin and Nancy who told you the whole story, you had kinda been busy lavishing in the love bubble you and Eddie were in.

You didn't expect to fall in love with Eddie or any of this to happen but you're so happy that it did.

❤️✨❤️✨